trials Archives - Gina Brenna Butz

The Blessing of a Weathered Soul

Post author:Gina B
Post published:June 4, 2020
Post category:growth identity trials

We have a weathered wooden board in our bathroom that we repurposed as a towel rack. It is deeply weathered from wind, rain, and probably sand (I don’t remember where I found it). There are layers of paint or maybe stain that have worn off to varying degrees. It has cracks in it. There’s discoloration on the edges I can’t identify.

I love that board.

Who knows what hands it has passed through or how it came to look the way it does. I love it because when I look at it, it tells me a story.

It’s beautiful. And you could never, ever, make another one exactly like it.

Our souls are that board.

Beautiful, unique, telling a story unlike any other. Meant to be a blessing just the way we are. Worn and useful for the Maker’s hands.

But gosh the world tells us we should be anything but, doesn’t it? It pushes us to be bigger and better, to go higher and faster. It says, “Be put together, spiritually sound, never struggle, do it right.” This country was founded on a pursuit of happiness that leaves no space for suffering or failure. It’s a game of “avoid the heartache and you win.”

You don’t get beautiful that way.

The Blessing of a Weathered Soul

The apostle Paul knew that. He wrote, “Not only so but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

I think of our kids. When they encounter challenges, I want to rescue them. Instead, I try to remember that this weathering is necessary for their souls. He’s doing something beautiful in them through it.

I think of the painful seasons God has brought me through. I hold the lessons I learned from them like treasures. They are the marks on my soul that bear witness to His work, His faithfulness, and His goodness, shaping me into my true self.

I think of our world right now, and what we’re going through. And yes, it’s awful and I wish it weren’t true, but I know that once we’re through this, there will be good that comes. As we weather the storms, God doesn’t stand far away. He is right here, next to us, in the middle of it all. He has compassion on us, but He knows how it shapes us too.

We aren’t called to an unscathed life. So we patiently endure. We trust that nothing is wasted. He uses everything to beautify us, to reclaim us as His. May we surrender to the process of weathering.

God Owes Us Nothing

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 26, 2019
Post category:dependence on God

This summer, I almost threw a Tim Keller book out the window of our car.

That’s not normally how I respond to Keller-we’re generally on the same page. But his book, Walking with God Through Pain and Suffering, kicked me with a simple conviction, “God owes you nothing.”

Earlier this spring, God had me in a wilderness of ill health. I learned a lot there, so much so that when my symptoms went away for a brief time, I was a little disappointed. I didn’t want to lose the intimacy I had with God.

But then, the symptoms came back. And left. And came back.

I have to say, I didn’t respond well.

While I had come to a point where I could even thank God for the wilderness initially, being led back in again struck a nerve in me. I couldn’t find my way back to the contentedness I had claimed. I went from, “I have stilled and quieted my soul” to “forget this, I’m out.”

What We Think God Owes Us

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe God could use this in my life. I just couldn’t see the point of it anymore. I wasn’t hearing His voice speak comfort or encouragement to me like before. Or maybe I just grew weary of trying to listen for it.

In essence, I held my hand up to God in an act of defiance: I do not want this suffering.

And to be honest? My resistance rested on a simple idea: I don’t think this is a good thing for me. Follow that thread and you’ll see it’s based on a lie that I know what is best for me, and this ain’t it.

We might be OK with suffering for a time, but when it wears on our souls, it’s easy to believe: God owes me better than this.We might be OK with suffering for a time, but when it wears on our souls, it's easy to believe: God owes me better than this. Click To Tweet

We are so quick to claim, “All things work for the good of those who love Him” but we have such a narrow, shallow view of what that good entails.

And it leads us to think that He owes us. If He claims to always do good for us, then we think good should include our health. And while we’re at it, our jobs, our marriages, our kids, our general happiness. Doesn’t suffering mean God is lying down on the job of giving me a good life?

But what Keller pointed out in his book is that God has already done more than enough. The breath in our lungs is because God breathed it. Life itself is an unmerited gift, in whatever form.

And so much more than that: He gave everything by giving us Jesus-the ultimate gift we did not deserve or earn and can never repay. Do we really have the right to ask anything of Him?

Why not us?

Recently there was an incredible interview between Anderson Cooper and Stephen Colbert, the latter being a man of some measure of faith. Anderson Cooper referenced a comment Stephen had made, “All punishment is a gift from God.”

Through tears, and perhaps some doubt, Anderson asked, “Do you really believe that?”

Stephen’s response essentially was ‘yes.’ He said that “all life is a gift we don’t deserve.” And suffering is part of that life. It’s all a gift from God.

They went on together to agree that while it’s tempting to ask, “Why me?” maybe the better question is, “Why not me?”

I confess I was humbled by their words. They keep turning over in my heart.

Why should I be exempt? Why should you? Is there a reason God owes us more than the next person? Do we deserve a “better” life because we follow Him?

He has already given us life. The fact that we breathe air every day is an undeserved gift of grace.

But more than that, He has given us salvation. He has given us His Spirit. We did not earn or deserve that in any way. It is grace upon grace.

He owes us nothing, yet He is always giving us what we need, if we let go of our idea of what that looks like.

So instead of holding my hand up in defiance, I ask Him to help me hold it out to receive.

Related posts:

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier

What to Do When It’s Hard

Finding God in the Wilderness

Post author:Gina B
Post published:May 16, 2019
Post category:dependence on God faith transition trials Uncategorized

In March, I spoke at a women’s conference about finding God in unexpected journeys.

I talked about the Israelites as they left Egypt (when a season isn’t the good you expected), wandered in the wilderness (when God makes you wait and you don’t know why), and experienced the promised land (when life is just the way you want it to be).

Last fall, when I was writing these talks, I was living in a pretty good season. I resonated with the promised land experience.

And then God invited me back into the wilderness.

Suddenly, I need to listen to my own words.

Finding Myself in the Wilderness

I warned the retreat attendees about this: our real promised land is ahead. God doesn’t leave us long in those seasons. He has more for us to learn. Hence, the journey back into the wild.

See, for most of 2019 so far, I’ve experienced bouts of dizziness and headaches that at times have been debilitating. At the least, they are rarely completely gone (thanks for nothing, new year).

Finally, after an MRI (thankfully clear) and a trip to the neurologist, I was diagnosed with basilar migraines, a diagnosis that still leaves me skeptical, but at least gives me some direction.

It’s been a strange season to walk through. It’s hard not knowing how I will feel from day to day, how long it will last. I’ve wondered what He is doing, what He wants to teach me through this.

Like the Israelites, once I realized I was back in the wilderness, I started asking God for the shortest way out. Sure, You can teach me something, but could you make it fast? And easy?

It’s hard to be in a place where we realize we aren’t the ones in control. The wilderness is tiring, humbling, and at times confusing. A friend of mine put it recently, “God has you in a fog.” Indeed.

I don’t know about you, but I can’t see well in the fog. Yet as I said at the retreat (curse my words coming back to haunt me!) we can find God in the wilderness, no matter how foggy it is.

Better yet, He can see through the fog. He knows the way out of this wilderness.

So I’m looking for God in all of this.

And I’m finding Him.

Finding God in the Wilderness

He is using this season to slow me down even more (I swear pretty soon I’ll be going backward). As much as I hate doing less, He reassures me that it doesn’t diminish me.

Prayers I have prayed are being answered through this (be careful what you pray for!).

In my hardest moments, I have heard His voice speak tenderly and consistently to me words of comfort and invitation. He has felt closer than ever.

Friends have stepped in and wrapped my weakness, fears, and grief with love and care, and in the process taught me more how to let others care for me (a much needed and on-going lesson).

In a sweet moment, our daughter asked me, “What would you do if this was happening to me?” It invited me to consider how to extend compassion, kindness, tenderness, and patience to myself as I would want to give to others.

Finding He Is Enough

I believe it’s in the wilderness where God tries us to see what we really want. Do we want Him? Or do we just want what He gives us?

Will we sit in this desert place long enough to experience His sufficiency, regardless of our circumstances?

This has been a hard season, yes. At my lowest times, I beg God to just make it better. I decide I don’t want the lessons I know He wants to give me.

But God is with us in the wilderness. He meets us in the middle of it to show us more of Him, to transform us, to shake us loose from the trappings that hold us.

He uses these places to bring us to our knees. They humble us to receive from Him and others what we’ve wanted all along but have been too proud and self-sufficient to cry out for.

So I’ve tried to sit patiently in this. Keep my eyes focused on Him. Giving thanks for the good I see, trusting Him for the things I cannot see.

It’s easier to have peace on the days when I feel better. But I want peace no matter what. God keeps bringing to mind Psalm 131:2, “But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content.”

God grant us that kind of trust in the wilderness. Calm and quiet souls who wait on Him.

I know it won’t last forever. God will lead me out eventually.

Maybe you’re in a wilderness too. He will lead you out as well.

So let’s stay close to Him. Let’s trust. Know that He is with us. He will do good to us in this place.

Related posts:

It’s Going to Be Okay

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier

What to Do When It’s Hard

Storm Preparation: Principles for the Spiritual Life

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 7, 2017
Post category:trials

This week we, along with other Floridians, are staring down a major hurricane. Riding on the heels of Hurricane Harvey, emotions are higher. Fear is strong. Already by Tuesday, supplies were out, though the storm shouldn’t hit till Sunday. As we prepare for this storm, I reflect on how our actions translate to principles for the spiritual life as well.

When we see a storm coming, our first response is to gather supplies. I’m thankful I had the foresight to ask our son to pick up water on his way home Sunday because yesterday there was none to be found. People get salty when supplies are scarce. And often, in our spiritual lives, we act out of a scarcity mentality. The truth we need to ride out storms we gather in short supply. We reach for it in moments of desperation, instead of storing up for a rainy day.

But friends, the truth that sustains is there for the taking. It never runs out. We must constantly feed ourselves a supply of truth so that when the storms of life hit, we have a storehouse. And we can be the ones generously sharing that truth with others.

While my husband is traveling until Friday, I’m thankful for my team from work. All day Wednesday we continued an email thread checking with each other. Who’s staying? How do we prepare? I confess I was reluctant at first to admit my ignorance. I’m a Minnesota girl. All our storm preparedness is, “When the sirens start, grab some snacks and head for the basement. Turn on the TV.”

But in admitting my need, I receive help. There is comfort in connecting with them. We know we are not alone. Others will walk with us. When we weather the storms in life, we desperately need others. That requires owning our needs, ignorance, and poverty, so that others can help us. We were made to weather storms together.

Part of our preparation is checking for safe places. Our house has few interior rooms-just a small room under the stairs and decent-sized closets in the kids’ rooms. (Looks like we will hunker down Harry Potter style).

We need safe places. In God, we have the greatest one. He is our solid place, rock, refuge, our anchor in the storm. Too easily I wander from that home and look for solid places elsewhere; it is a pointless search. He is the best hiding place.

Despite our best preparations, we know this storm might cause damage. Our backyard is wooded. Surely branches will fall and trees may be uprooted. While our house was built to withstand strong winds, it can’t bear everything. How will it all hold up against the storm?

In our spiritual lives, there is where I see God work so much good. Storms are when we see what we’re made of. We see if we have built our lives on solid ground. There’s uprooting that needs to happen so God can plant something better. We come through a little battered and worse for wear, but humbled as well. They bring us back into dependence.

I confess, through all this preparation, I am fearful. There are so many “what if?” scenarios. There is too much out of my control. In the face of a storm, God calls me back to rest in His goodness. He reminds me that He is greater than any storm, even the biggest one I’ve ever seen. His perfect love for us drives out fear. While we remain vigilant and alert to the destructive forces around us, we are trusting, hopeful, and deeply loved.

So we store up truth along the way, guarding our hearts for whatever might come. We keep building our lives and identities on the solid ground of who God is. That way, when the rain comes and the wind blows, we rest secure. We do it together. We do it knowing that however great the storm, He is greater.

Related posts:

Peace and Hope Amidst the Storm

It’s All in How You Look at It

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 9, 2017
Post category:gratitude perspective trials

So I live in my car.

I mean not really, but it feels like it sometimes. It’s not unusual for me to spend 3-4 hours driving on a given day. And suffice to say it’s not my favorite activity.

Lately, though, my perspective on my mobile prison has been changing.

I’m coming to appreciate this time. After all, usually it means I’ve got kids in the car-not just mine but others. I am privy to conversations they have with one another, about subjects I would otherwise not know. Other times it’s just me and my own kids, talking, laughing, observing, and just existing together. It might be the only time of the day I have their undivided attention, and they mine.

This is also a forced time of solitude. I do some of my best thinking, blog post/book brainstorming, praying, and, naturally, just talking to myself, in the car. I can’t multi-task in here (truth be told, I am writing this post in my car. Yep, I’ve just given up trying to exist in my house). I have to slow down and just be.

Someday I won’t have to spend this much time driving.

I will miss that time with my kids, eavesdropping on their lives. The silence it affords allows me to actually hear myself think. I will have to carve out other time for prayer and pondering, find other ways to be unhurried.

So I could look at all these hours as wasted, or I could see how God is redeeming this time. I could write them off as an inconvenience or I could be thankful for what it brings to my life.

It’s all in how I look at it.

This is true of so many aspects of my life. I despise cooking (is there a stronger word than despise? I would use it), but I’m thankful I have people for whom to cook. Cooking reminds me I don’t have to be the best at something in order to still be a blessing.

I’m not a fan of how much work our house requires, but boy am I glad we have one. I wish there were a way I could clean my house and have it stay that way, but the cleaning humbles me and gives me an opportunity to bless the ones I love.

I would gladly never look another receipt, budget, or anything else related to our finances again. But when I do, I am reminded that we are so very blessed to have what we need, and more.

I wish I didn’t have the responsibility of feeding and walking a dog, but I know how much I would miss her company. She slows me down and forces me to get out into nature. She literally helps me stop and smell the flowers.

Working with people is hard, but what a blessing to have meaningful work. The problems that arise are an opportunity to move toward others with truth and love. The challenges keep me dependent on God.

I would love a struggle-free life, but the trials are what keep me returning to Him. They highlight my humanity and His divinity, and remind me that I always have a place to go for what I need.

What’s the thing in your life you wish you didn’t have to do?

What asks more than you feel like you can give? What road would you rather not walk?

Maybe it’s changing diapers or grocery shopping or homework or conflict management at work or driving all over kingdom come. Maybe it’s something much more wearying and painful.

Whatever it is, none of it is wasted. Someday we will look back and see the blessing in it, God’s hand at work, how it changed us for good.

So why wait? Why not look now for the blessing? Why not choose to see how it can be used for good? It might be a challenge, like panning for gold. But it’s there. God redeems it all. He uses it all.

It’s all in how we look at it.

Related posts:

When Gratitude Is Hard

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier

What to Do When It’s Hard

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 9, 2017
Post category:dependence on God faith grief trials

In the last couple of weeks, I have witnessed all manner of hardship around me. The sudden death of a son. Adopted children wrestling with trauma and fear. Inconclusive test results. Two attempted suicides. A mysterious illness in a child.

Moments like this rattle us to our core. They remind us that the world is fallen, and we are frail. They speak to our smallness, and our need for a solid place.

Pleas to God for comfort and peace and hope are intermingled with the aching questions of, “Lord Jesus, why?” and, “What now?” and “Where are You?”

There is desperate clinging to that which is good, mixed with a wonder and confusion of how we continue to navigate this world that is so hard and uncertain.

And when I ponder it myself, here’s what keeps resonating in my soul:

Lean in.

Lean into His voice whispering through the questions and the confusion, “Come closer, sink deeper. Find a place of solace where your soul can exhale and rest. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.” We set aside what we do not know and grab hold of what we do.

Lean in, friends. Hard. Lean into the One who sees it all. Fall on the One who loves you. Collapse in the arms of the One who is more than able. Lean to the point where your feet don’t even touch the ground anymore and you’re just carried by Him.

He can handle it. There is nothing beyond His strength. He is our ezer kenegdo, our warrior helper, who fights for us and helps us.

Don’t just throw your worries at Him hoping something will stick, hoping for the best. Lean into His promises like your life depends on it. Let your leaning be full of faith, hope, and trust.

Don’t let your unanswered questions drive a wedge of bitterness or hopelessness between you and the very one who knows what you need and wants to walk with you in this.

As Hudson Taylor said, “It does not matter how great the pressure is. What really matters is where the pressure lies-whether it comes between you and God, or whether it presses you nearer His heart.”

The promise of abundant life is not the promise of a painless life.

It is not the promise of a happy life. It is a promise of resources plentiful for what we will walk through. Here is where we can always lean in and find what we need for the journey.

So lean in with your fists, if you must. Lean in with your wailing and doubts and anger, and beat your hands against His chest until it dissolves into grief and you let Him hold you.

Lean in with the faith of a child and rest. Rest in His comfort and peace, knowing you don’t have to have answers or direction-you just know that someone holds those for you.

Lean into His embrace. Listen to His heart beat for you. Hear His voice speak over you the very words you long to hear. Find what you need.

You can never lean too hard, or push too much. There is no way you will topple Him or ask more than He can offer. He is our solid oak, our life raft, our shelter, our rock in the storm.

Lean in.

Related posts:

Let Go and Let Him Hold You

Cease Striving

Peace and Hope Amidst the Storm

Panning for Gold: What to Do When Gratitude Is Hard

Post author:Gina B
Post published:November 22, 2016
Post category:gratitude trials

This is the month of the year when we are reminded to be thankful. Pinterest is cluttered with suggestions for ways to count our blessings. At work one year, someone put up a thankfulness tree, and a sign inviting others to write on a leaf and add to it. Among the turkey and pilgrim decorations are plates and napkins and signs bearing the word, “Thanks.” But the fact is, sometimes, it’s hard to feel thankful.

Sometimes we have seasons when the blessings are hard to see. The job is stressful, and you wonder if it’s even where you belong. Your kids are struggling in school. The loneliness lingers, or your marriage feels old and empty. Depression is a cloud you can’t shake. The test is positive, or negative. Sometimes the hard is so overwhelming the thought of looking for the good feels beyond our reach.

At times like that, when we don’t feel grateful, what do we do?

We pan for gold.

Now I’ve never actually panned for gold, but I imagine that it is hard work. Time-consuming. It requires great focus and a trained eye to look for the smallest bits of gold in the mud. All your energy goes into finding that precious metal. Those willing to look harder found more.

So when I’m in a season where it doesn’t feel like the gold nuggets are right there for the taking, I imagine myself as a gold miner (side note: I HATE the word nugget. Hate. It.). I take more time to look a little harder, sift my life around a little more, asking where I do see Him at work. I look for the smallest blessings. Sometimes I start with, “I am alive today.”

And then I thank Him for them. I thank Him for food, clothes, shelter, health and all that I take for granted every day. It’s good to start there.

Here’s the reality: there’s always gold.

It might only show up in little flakes and specks. But when we look, we see it is there in abundance. We might not experience the big nuggets of victory, but we can claim the gold dust of everyday grace. Click To Tweet It’s breath in our lungs, feet to move us, hands to work, eyes to see. We see salvation, grace, life, and His love and presence. It’s all that does not leave us even in the darkest moments.

The more we pan for gold, the better we become at finding it. We see gold in a kind word, a safe drive, a quiet moment. It’s found in sunrises, fresh air, and every day we get to start again.

We are not asked to give thanks for every circumstance but in every circumstance. Whatever the season brings, there’s gold in them there hills. We can be grateful people in the midst of trial, heartache, pain.

Seek out the evidence of goodness mixed in with the dirt of hardship. Search for the reminders that we are never forsaken, even when the road is rough. His blessings carry us. Pan for gold, friends. Our lives are rich.

Our Inside Out Moment

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 7, 2016
Post category:grief loved parenting

It started out rough, but it ended well, that day on the field. In fact, it called to mind a moment from Inside Out.

If you’ve seen the movie, you know there was a pivotal moment that formed one of the main character, Riley’s, core memories. It was the memory of her hockey team gathered around her cheering. What we learned later in the movie is that the moment happened because there were coming to cheer her up after a loss that crushed her. Here’s how it happened for us:

Our daughter’s soccer team played in the first of a series of three weekend tournaments a week ago. In order to progress to the next weekend, her team had to win their group of 4. I wrote the details of their weekend in my previous post. Suffice to say, they didn’t win.

My sweet girl met me after the game and promptly burst into tears. As I hugged her, she cried about how she had played poorly (not true) and how this meant they were out. I tried to remind her that everyone makes mistakes, it was a team effort, they played well, but she was, in a word, inconsolable.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that both her coaches had stopped and turned back, as had her teammates. Soon, one of her coaches stepped in to take her from me. He pulled her in for a hug and talked quietly to her for the next few minutes, telling her, “It’s good that you are sad. It means you love it, it’s important to you. That makes you play hard.” When he was done, her team gathered around her for a huge group hug.

Meanwhile, one of the girls who plays goalie on her high school team happened to be watching the game because she’d played earlier. When I told her Megan was disappointed with how she’d played, she asked if it would be ok if she talked to her for a minute. After her team dispersed, Sarah stepped in and encouraged Megan as well.

Watching it all, I was so grateful for the loss.

Sure, it was painful to watch her be sad. We were all disappointed – they’re a good team and could have continued. But in the world of youth sports where there is often so much criticism and pressure on kids, to see our daughter loved so well by her coaches and teammates, was a rare gift.

Sometimes the best memories are formed when someone loves us well in a hard place. I’m so thankful our daughter has one of those because of this team.

Promises to My Children

Living a Better Story

Post author:Gina B
Post published:November 2, 2015
Post category:dependence on God faith trials

When I look at this next month, I’m tempted to think, “How am I going to get through this?”

My fallback is, “With a lot of caffeine and chocolate,” but there’s probably a better option.

This is my point of need, and it is a good place.

When life feels overwhelming, when the waves are just a little higher than I’m comfortable, and the current is strong, it is tempting to switch into battle mode and just barrel through.

The problem with that style is that I tend to leave people in my wake. I get short with my family. I am not present with people. My body responds physically to the stress of swimming harder. My focus becomes “I just have to get through.” I miss so much.

This morning, as I stare down this week when I know that sitting will be a luxury, there probably won’t be actual meals on the table, and if we looked at what we’re spending in tolls we would cry rivers, I know I don’t want the story to only be, “We made it.”

There’s a better story I could write this week, because God is in the picture.

All morning He has been reminding me that this week is an opportunity.

This is my point of need, where He wants to show His power in my weakness. He wants to carry us. He wants to give us the strength and peace and patience and joy to do this week like it’s the best week ever.

It begins by laying down my own efforts. If my worries become prayers, my task list becomes my places of dependence. It can happen if I navigate this week by the power of His Spirit alive in me, and not by anything I bring to the table.

If that’s where I’m resting, then I can love my family. I can be present with people. I can breathe rest into my body. My focus can be, “Let’s see what He can do with this week.” I don’t want to miss Him in it.

We can write a story of dependence this week.

We can write a chapter that says, “I can’t do it, but He can.” We can write love and joy and peace and glory, if we remember where to look for all we need.

He is bigger than whatever I face this week, whatever you’re facing. We don’t have to live any differently in the deep waters than we do in the places where our feet can touch. We can live a better story.

When You Just Have to Do One Day at a Time

Just When You Think You’re There

Post author:Gina B
Post published:October 6, 2014
Post category:transition

I walked onto the field a few weeks ago for our daughter’s first scrimmage with a new club soccer team. It dawned on me that I had no idea which sideline parents were ours.

So I did what any person who is plain tired of initiating with others would do, and I used a lifeline to phone a friend. Safe in that conversation, I watched the game for 30 minutes until I had firmly established that I was, in fact, sitting with the opposite team’s parents.

Just when I think maybe we’re over this whole transition drama, it comes along to bite me in the behind. It crops up in the kids realizing that they don’t quite know what to do with themselves on the weekend because there aren’t a dozen friends within walking distance like there used to be, and it’s a fresh grief. Or when I once again get blindsided by the “present proof your children are immunized” process and I feel like an idiot outsider who can’t seem to get with the program.

Thankfully, we have a little more emotional bank account to draw from these days, but it’s still tough. It’s no fun explaining to your kids that it might just be this way for good, or at least for awhile. It’s embarrassing to admit that you didn’t keep great records of your kids’ shots overseas because you never knew you’d have to produce them in order for them to go to school. It’s tiring to once again be the new girl trying to break in.

It’s a whole lot of emotions that keep getting stirred. The journey continues, and we press on.