Blog - Page 11 of 35 - Gina Brenna Butz

A Willing Sacrifice

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 30, 2017
Post category:expectations grace

I stood scrubbing the dishes with gritted teeth. This was my kids’ job, and they had failed to do it before bed. This was the job I had just asked my husband to come help do, and while he had verbally committed, he was still sitting on the couch watching YouTube. So there I was, alone, doing a job that was not mine, and I did not want to do. Yes, a sacrifice of my time and energy, but willing? Anything but.

I too was tired after a long day of meetings and driving kids. I wanted to relax. A small part of me knew this was an opportunity to serve my family with a joyful heart. The rest of me wanted them to see my service and feel guilty, or show up too late to help so I could feel more justified in my self-pity.

Not my finest moment.

Is it sacrifice if it isn’t willing? After all, I still gave. I still served. But I walked away with a heart tinged with bitterness, in need of forgiveness. Making that a practice is a sure way to harden me to the people I say I’m serving.

I’ve wondered, since that night, what it takes for me to sacrifice with a willing heart, even when it is challenging.

I know what gets in the way.

Pride. And pride can take so many forms.

Sometimes it looks like using serving others to gain approval. It happens when the giving of my time and energy seems like a worthy transaction to earn the good will of others. It feels willing, but if the response of others is tepid, my pride will hunt for more. What seems like sacrifice is nothing more than using others to prove my worth.

Sometimes it looks like being willing to carry others’ burdens, but denying others the opportunity to carry mine. It stems from the lie that what I offer is all people want from me, not my heart, not my desires, not my needs. Pride whispers that I am only as good as what I do, so I must give.

And still other times, pride says I am better than you because of my giving. It shows up as self-righteousness, stubborn obligation. I give because it is expected, because I outwardly fit the model of Christian service, while inwardly I stew over the dinner dishes.

But a willing sacrifice? Sacrifice means I have to give up something I value for the sake of others. Willing equates to ready, eager, prepared. To be a willing sacrifice I must walk away from self, and lay down the pride that gets in my way.

In Philippians chapter 2, Paul paints a picture of humility, asking us to be like Christ as he emptied himself and became human. Humility bids us to empty our souls of this focus on self. It requires us to die.

But there’s a difference between dying to self and shutting down our hearts.

In dying to self, I own when it is hard to sacrifice, when it feels like too much, when I have no more to give. Like Christ in the garden, I lay bare my weary heart and my desire to step away from the task.

When I die to self, I acknowledge that my motives can be selfish and self-serving. I call out pride where it exists, and turn my eyes upward. I choose to walk the road for His sake, and no one else’s. Only then am I unencumbered and free to serve with joy.

I think back to that night at the sink, and I wonder how I could have done it differently. I imagine stopping for just a minute to let myself feel my humanity. I picture giving myself space to acknowledge my fatigue, my reluctance, my desire to do anything else, as all valid.

I wish I had taken my angry, messy heart to God, confessing-let’s call it what it was-my hatred toward my family in that moment. I needed to spill out the prideful attitude that set me above them. God wanted to empty me of self-righteousness, my attempt to make a martyr of myself, so that I could move toward my family with an open heart.

And I wish I had simply done it for God; not my family, not for recognition or justification. I wish I had let that moment be a holy gift back to God, done out of love for Him alone, from the low ground He calls us to walk.

Humility leads to a willing sacrifice. When our giving is tangled up with pride, we are bound to the responses of others. But when our sacrifice is for Him, we walk freely.

Don’t Forget to Breathe

It’s All in How You Look at It

What I’m Learning about Loneliness

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 23, 2017
Post category:identity trials

Confession: in this season of life, loneliness is a frequent companion of mine.

If it were up to me, my life would be a constant episode of Friends, Cheers, or Seinfeld, living in the assurance that I belong to a tight-knit group of people whose doors are always open to me, and who are seemingly always available.

Perhaps my expectations are a wee high.

But we all want to be known, to belong, to be pursued, and to be loved. Loneliness feels like a stamp of disapproval. You somehow missed the invitation to the party.

Whenever loneliness entered in my life in the past, I begged God to take it away. This time around, I feel Him asking me to linger in it a little longer, because loneliness teaches me something.

This is what I am learning about loneliness:

It is not an indictment. I keep silent about being lonely because it feels like a judgment; there must be a reason I’m lonely. Like maybe I’m really unpleasant to be around and no one’s telling me (although I’m confident enough to doubt this is the case. I like me. I can’t be the only one). In the void, the enemy speaks shame to the lonely, keeping us locked in silence.

Sometimes loneliness just is. It’s not the result of doing something wrong, or something wrong with you. It’s just a plot thread in this chapter of the story. God’s writing a good story for each of us.

There is a difference between loneliness and being alone. Several weeks ago, my husband went on his first long trip in a while. I was achingly lonely, even though I interacted with plenty of people. Last week, he was gone again for another week, but I felt content to be by myself, breathing in the silence and enjoying more time to think.

You can be alone and not lonely. And you can be surrounded by people and feel terribly lonely. It’s good to recognize the difference.

Lots of people are lonely. Sometimes I wonder how many of us sit in loneliness, wishing someone would reach out. Imagine all of us finding each other if only we stopped being silent about our loneliness. But again, shame wants us to believe we are the only ones.

The lonely ones are probably the most unexpected. My guess is most leaders are lonely. Think of our pastors, our bosses, the famous men and women we admire from a distance.

You know what that distance does? It isolates. The pressure to fit an image, the way position or status makes it hard to relate to others-they make it a challenge for many to find people who relate to them as peers. They might need companionship the most.

Loneliness pulls back the veil. One of the most frightening aspects of loneliness is that it exposes what we hide in our busy activity. It shows how much we hunger for companionship, what we most deeply desire, and how easily our souls settle for lesser things. That is something to be explored, not avoided.

It is an invitation to solitude and silence. Sometimes I shy away from solitude and silence because they feel too much like loneliness. But loneliness invites us into these very practices so necessary for our souls. Here, loneliness is not only a teacher, but a friend in itself, leading us to places where God will meet us.

In the allegory Hind’s Feet on High Places, the protagonist, Much Afraid, has two companions for her journey: Sorrow and Suffering. She loathes to take their hands, but the more she does, the more strength she receives.

Loneliness is another unwanted companion for many of us. But as we take its hand, we may learn it is not to be feared as much as we believe. Rather, it is a place where we can meet God in our deepest hunger and desire, where He can teach us.

Lean In

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier

On Learning to Be Quick to Call for Help

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 16, 2017
Post category:dependence on God faith

“Ring! Ring!”

It was a common call in our house when our children were younger, usually accompanied by giggles, peppered with a little desperation.

They were the distress call from our daughter, translating to, “Daddy – my big brother’s playing with me. He’s getting a little too rough. Left to my own devices I’ll probably retaliate in a way that I’ll regret. At least he will. Save me!”

We obviously needed a code word.

It started as a simple conflict resolution skill. If it’s getting past “this is fun” into “he’s sitting on my head and it hurts,” she called out, “Ring! Ring!” She knew daddy would come to her rescue.

Initially, her “Ring! Ring!” cries were a little frantic and uncertain.

She had to stand her own ground with her brother when they wrestled, and she didn’t know if she would be rescued. After a while, she realized daddy came readily when she called.

Not only did he come, but he scooped her up and whisked her away. A distressing moment transformed to joy. He was her knight in shining armor.

I think she secretly hoped for a chance to call. She loved it when daddy showed up.

Whenever I think of her “Ring! Ring” I am reminded of my heavenly Father.

He comes when we call

I am a fiercely independent, “thanks, but I’ve got this” kind of girl when it comes to life. I am often so convinced I can handle life on my own that I forget my Father is so able and willing to respond to my “Ring! Ring!”

I’m not talking about the kind of faith that uses God as a last resort, or sees Him as only a lifeline when we’re in trouble.

I want my “Ring! Ring!” to change from the hesitant, questioning cries that mark young faith, to confident, joyful expectation that believes our God is never far away.

May we have faith that does not trust in our own ways, our own strength. Instead, we immediately recognize our need for help and His great power and love.

Last night as I went to bed, the weight of the details of life hung heavy. Between work and writing and parenting and impending visitors and a soon to be traveling husband, I was tempted to be anxious and wonder if I could make it all happen.

I was reminded that our Father longs to intervene. He wants to take those burdens. In exchange, He wants to give us the peace, energy, wisdom and power to do what He has called us to do.

So this morning when I woke up, I called for help. And God came to my rescue, reminding me that He’s got today. He’s got me. Help us on the way. He’s got us. So call, friends.

“The Lord your God is with you; He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you; He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:17

When You Just Have to Do One Day at a Time

I Don’t Need Rescuing (Except I Do)

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.

When Gratitude Is Hard

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier

Redefining Success

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 2, 2017
Post category:expectations identity

It’s no secret to people who know me that I like to be successful. I shy away from activities if I know I can’t do them well. And by well I mean better than anyone else (ugh-it sounds worse outside of my head). Average is Gina’s F.

The story of the talents from Matthew 25 comes to mind here. One servant receives five talents, another two, and another one. Those with five and two make the most of what they have, investing them wisely and doubling what they have. But the servant with one talent does nothing with it. He wastes what he has been given.

I’d like to think that I have five talents, nay, ten talents. Oh, what I could do with ten talents! But in some situations, I realize I might only have two. Maybe even just the one.

That shouldn’t make a difference, but it can to me. I allow what I think I have to influence how much I will put myself out there. I’m focused more on how using these talents will make me look than on being a good steward of them. Comparing my talents with the talents of others distracts me. I think more about what those talents can do for me, than what I am doing with them for Him.

Take writing, for example. The more I am exposed to successful writers, the easier it is for me to doubt that what I write is worth putting out there. Am I successful if I don’t have the same following as them? Am I good enough if my posts aren’t wildly popular? Should I even bother? I see the success of others, and it’s tempting to think that if I can’t do that, I should just give up.

I need to redefine success.

According to this story, success is not about how much you have, how much people recognize what you offer, or even what an impact you make. Success is being faithful and obedient with what he has given you, whether it’s a little or a lot.

So being successful as a writer is not about the number of likes and followers and retweets. It’s about listening to God’s voice and sharing whatever words He gives me because He asked me to share them.

Being successful as a parent is not about our kids’ achievements. It’s about believing that God has given us responsibility and resources to pour into our kids, claiming grace for what we lack, and leaving the results to God.

Being successful in our work isn’t about attaining more financial security or that corner office, but using the gifts He has given us to the best of our abilities in whatever space God has called us to work.

And being successful in life isn’t about creating the perfect amazing outward life, but about walking the long and dusty road with Him day in and day out, taking each next step as He leads regardless of who sees it.

In all these activities, our responsibility begins and ends with faithfulness and obedience. What He does with what we offer is up to Him. Whether He brings great fruit and influence and world change, or whether it falls on deaf ears and closed eyes, we have been successful if we show up.

So how have you been looking for success in your life? And what would it look like to simply be faithful and obedient today?

We Are All Glorious Messes

When You Just Have to Do One Day at a Time

Warning: Don’t Forget to Breathe

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 23, 2017
Post category:anxiety dependence on God faith grace prayer rest

In the quiet of a dimly lit room, standing unsteadily on a foam mat, wondering if everyone behind me was judging my form (they weren’t), I tried to focus. Arms up, down to prayer, bend over. Lift halfway, down again, now back up and reach . . . and oh yeah, don’t forget to breathe.

It seems like the lamest command one human could give another, “Don’t forget to breathe.” We breathe on average 17,000+ times per day involuntarily. I have done it for over 40 years. That’s, . . . (I don’t do math) a lot of breathing. I should be practiced by now.

And yet.

Every time our sweet yoga guide said it, I realized I was not breathing. So focused on the action I forgot to inhale and exhale.

When I did breathe, my body relaxed. I sank deeper, and became more aware of everything I was doing. The places that were tight, needing more attention, spoke to me.

Our instructor pointed out that the Jewish name for God-Yahweh-was meant to be breathed. It’s the only consonants in the Hebrew alphabet not articulated with the lips and tongue. So as you breathe in and out, you can say the name of Yahweh. That is what we practiced. Yah-weh. Yah-weh.

A way of breathing that reminds us who is with us and what He offers. It calls us to slow down, lean in, be aware that the very breath of God is in us.

So, in the moments when life feels a little rushed, too overwhelming, too hard, I’ve been trying to practice this.

We must remember to breathe.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when that guy in front of you is driving 40 in a 55 and there’s no possibility of passing . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in patience, peace and the knowledge that we will get there eventually. Then we breathe out grace toward those who slow us down when we want to be fast.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when we ask our children to do something and we can see the objections forming in their heads before they’re even words . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in time to speak to the heart. Then we breathe out words that love and invite.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when one more person presents one more need for us to meet . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in the space we need to question if this yes is for us or not. Then we breathe out an honest, humble answer that offers the best for everyone.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when our best-laid plans fall to pieces . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in the grace we need. Then we breathe out a good laugh at the idea that we were ever in control in the first place.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when anxiety grips our hearts and warns us to step away from the brave paths God’s calling us to take . . . Yah-weh . . .We breathe in his peace, his promise that He’s the one who brought us this far and He won’t let go now. Then we breathe out the determination that says we will keep walking this way because He is with us.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when the pressure to be all things to everyone threatens to weigh us down . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in our humanity and let ourselves off the hook. Then we breathe out the tension as we remember that we are not the Saviors of the world.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . at the end of the day when we realize we’ve made it . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in the joy and the blessings. Then we breathe out gratitude and worship to the One who gives it all to us. He is always with us, closer than our own breath.

Practice this Yah-weh breath with me. It slows us down, makes us conscious of the areas in our lives that need our attention, and brings a consciousness of His presence in our lives.

Don’t forget to breathe today, friends.

Keeping a Sabbath Heart

Lean In

You Are Loved

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 16, 2017
Post category:identity loved

How was everyone’s Valentine’s Day? Mine was less than stellar. In the morning I woke up feeling off, and by afternoon I had a fever, aches, a head that felt like it might explode, and what sounded like a case of tuberculosis. All this added up to me as the lamest Valentine’s date ever. We spent the evening eating Tijuana Flats in bed watching videos on our phones. It was everyone’s Valentine’s dream.

Tis the season to talk about, think about, hope for, and cherish love. But I wonder how many people, even those of us who are married, even those who have deep relationships with others, long for something more.

We long to be loved. Our hearts ache for a love that is solid, never-ending, secure. We want to be fully known and at the same time deeply loved for all our good, bad, and even ugly.

Oh yes, please even for the ugly. Please tell us it’s possible to be consistently loved even at our worst, so that we can stop hiding our less-than parts behind closed doors and be fully ourselves instead.

Tell us there’s someone from whom we never have to fear rejection, abandonment, for whom we are never just too much, too hard to love.

I’m here to say today: it’s possible. It’s more than possible. It’s true. That is how we are loved. As I thought about what I wanted to share this week, every part of my being wants to tell you this truth:

You are loved. Period. The end. No ifs, ands or buts. You are deeply, without hesitation, loved, with an all-encompassing love.

How do I know? Because the whole of scripture tells me it’s true. The Bible is a love story, friends. It’s one long epic tale of the hero who stole into enemy territory under cover of darkness to rescue the ones He loves, because the thought of eternity without us was unacceptable to Him. We were worth everything. We are worth everything.

He first loved us. That’s important to remember. He doesn’t love us because, or when, or if. He just loves us, with a love that is unshakeable, unchanging, unconditional.

I love how Henri Nouwen puts it in Life of the Beloved,

“My only desire is to make these words reverberate in your being, ‘You are the beloved.'”

Seriously, my one prayer for all of us today, it is that we live loved. We stop wandering, searching for lesser loves to satisfy our hungry souls. We stop doubting. Stop believing the lie that there’s something that gets us voted off His island. Stop listening to the voices that tell us to prove our worth, and we just soak in this truth today:

You are loved, you are loved, you are loved.

So maybe your Valentine’s Day was a bust. Loneliness gnaws at the corners of your life and questions your value. You’re feeling let down by people in your life. Maybe you’re feeling the sting of rejection. We’re all hungry for just a little more love.

So let me say it again: You are loved. May this thought echo off the walls of your hearts today. Repeat it to yourself until it becomes the place where you live. He loves you.

The Lies of “Too Much” and “Not Enough”

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.

Let Go and Let Him Hold You

Cease Striving

Peace and Hope Amidst the Storm

Why I Don’t Teach Sunday School . . . or . . . Finding My Yes

Post author:Gina B
Post published:January 26, 2017
Post category:expectations grace identity

Why I Won't Teach Sunday School . . . or Finding My Yes — photo by Jorigė Kuzmaitė

You will never see me teaching Sunday School to children.

It took me years to be able to say that without embarrassment. What kind of person isn’t willing to teach children? Does Gina not like children? Does she not see the great potential in shepherding young souls? These are the questions I was sure people would ask.

When my kids were little, and someone stood up front at church to talk about how important children’s ministry is (I swear in the background I could hear Whitney Houston singing, “I believe the children are our future . . .”) I would sink down in my seat, refusing to make eye contact, feeling terrible.

Then, one day, it hit me, “I am not called to this.” And suddenly I was free. I felt like Phoebe, in the pilot episode of Friends:

I don’t want to because it’s not what I’m supposed to do.

My calling is to other activities, things that you probably don’t want to do. I know this, because often when I tell people what I enjoy doing, they get a look on their face like they just smelled something weird. They would hate what I love. And that is as it should be.

We weren’t all given the same passions or gifts. How boring would that be? And ineffective. This isn’t Divergent. Five factions isn’t going to cut it.

Since coming back to the States, I have had opportunities to minister in a variety of ways unavailable to me overseas, which is fabulous.

What’s hard is discerning what I should and shouldn’t do.

At first, I felt I should say yes to everything because if I didn’t they might stop offering. Over time I’ve learned that when I say no to less ideal opportunities, it leaves space to pursue that which I love. God knows the good way I should walk, and He can guide me to the best yeses.

There is great freedom and joy in knowing that I am learning to give my time to what I am created to do, rather than just doing what I see, or what is asked of me. I want to give my energy to the activities God has for me, not what others want me to do.

In saying no, I am leaving space for someone who truly IS called to do that.

And I hope she does. She probably will, because she wants to say yes. And I will say yes somewhere else. There, we will both find joy and life.

So go ahead, ask me to teach Sunday School. I will politely decline and feel no remorse. It’s just not my calling.

What about you? What are you saying yes to today?

Related posts:

Stand at the Crossroads

Learning to Respect My Limits

Drop the Hot Dog – Learning to Feed on What Truly Satisfies

Post author:Gina B
Post published:January 20, 2017
Post category:dependence on God expectations identity loved

Confession: While I deeply want to be loved for who I am (and fear that I might not be), I settle for admiration. It feels like love. But that’s like eating a hot dog when what I need is rich soul food.

It’s easier, feeding off admiration. Admiration is more accessible. It’s more within my control to seek out the praise of others than it is to lay myself bare before them and hope I am enough in myself. I pour my energy into dazzling others with my gifts and tell myself I’m satisfied while my true hunger lies under the surface, unmet.

We all have our hot dogs.

Our hot dogs are those easy, cheap, artificial substitutes for what our hearts deeply crave. We eat the worldly foods we hope will bring us life. Because we don’t believe our true needs will be met, we settle for less.

We all settle for something lesser to satisfy our souls.

We want to be wanted, but we settle for being needed.

Our souls need true connection, but we settle for false peace, fueled by a fear of confrontation.

We want intimacy, but we settle for staying in control, hiding our weaknesses where they cannot be touched.

We feed on competence, reputation, usefulness, perfectionism, security, self-righteousness, self-sufficiency, busy schedules and so much more.

A few years ago, the taste of success began to sour for me.

Oh, don’t get me wrong-I love the feeling that I have accomplished something. I never fail to appreciate admiration. But I could feed off success all day long and twice on Sunday and never satisfy the deep hunger of my soul to be known and loved for who I am. That is a desire for which admiration is a pale substitute.

It’s like I woke one day and realized I have been feeding myself bread made from sawdust. Worse than a hot dog. That is the act of a person who is starving and must feed herself any way she can. It is the act of a person who doesn’t believe there is manna for her to eat instead.

God in his mercy keeps showing me ways I am trying to find life and love where it is not meant to be found. He keeps drawing my eyes back to Him and His provisions. God loves me too much to let me go hungry.

He calls me to drop the hot dogs.

He tells me to stop trying to feed myself something that isn’t going to satisfy. (We can have a pretty tight grip on our hot dogs. Sometimes He has to outright smack them out of our hands. Word to the wise-just let go. It’s easier).

Instead of our hot dogs, God is offering us a feast.

When we stop scrambling to feed ourselves, we see how He is providing rich food all around us. We see the manna of His presence, peace, joy, and love in all the ordinary moments He gives us throughout the day. He is constantly trying to feed us.

As I step back from seeking admiration, the deeper hunger of my heart has come to the surface. I am learning to own the hunger, to feel it more deeply rather than ignore it. I hear His invitation to the feast. The call to feast on Him alone is more satisfying than anything I could feed myself.

Don’t believe the lie that the hot dog will satisfy.

It’s not what you need. What He offers is better. Ask Him to show you what you are settling for, and how you are trying to feed yourself. What you hunger for is found best in Him. He is the source of love, the bread of life. Be satisfied in Him.

Stop Telling Me to Be Amazing

A Story of Two Houses

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