faith Archives - Page 4 of 10

Soldier On, Friends

Post author:Gina B
Post published:April 21, 2017
Post category:courage faith trials

There is a constant battle waging for our souls, and I for one sometimes grow weary of fighting it.

There are days I battle discouragement, pessimism, lies, apathy. It would be the easiest thing to let them sideline me.

I know there’s truth that cuts down all those negative emotions, but it takes energy to fight my way back to it. It takes time, and intentionality, and faith.

It’s a tiring battle. Every day we have to take up our cross and follow.

We have to start again, knowing that there will be arrows of accusation and condemnation from the enemy. There will be lies we’re tempted to believe about ourselves and others. Every day we have to fight our way back to the truth. We have to remember who we are and whose we are.

And friends, it’s tough.

The Battle Is Tough

It’s easier to lay down our weapons and surrender.

We wallow in complaining and negativity rather than take up gratitude, especially when it’s hard to find the gold.

Holing up with Netflix and ice cream hoping the battle will cease is the path of least resistance. Easier than the hard work of dragging those lies into the light.

Staying in isolation is easier than inviting others to speak truth into our darkness.

I’m reminded of one of my favorite books, Hind’s Feet on High Places. In it, the protagonist, Much Afraid, is called to the High Places by the Good Shepherd. What she hoped would be a joyous journey with Him is marred by her relatives with names like Resentment, Bitterness, and Pride, who constantly call to her along the way. They cause her to doubt and fear and wonder if she hasn’t chosen the wrong path.

She learns to cover her ears and turn away from their voices. She holds doggedly to the promises the Good Shepherd has made to her, however much they might not feel true at the moment.

So do we.

Keep Fighting the Battle

I want to tattoo all His promises across my arms so they sink into my soul and take up permanent residence there.

If only I were not such a leaky vessel when it comes to the truth about Him and me.

Would that I never find myself in those places where I realize I have listened to the wrong voices and strayed away from that solid ground in Him.

I wish fighting was not part of the Christian life, but it is. We are meant to fight hard against the enemy, and we are meant to be victorious.

Are you fighting the good fight? [ictt-tweet-inline]Fighting is hard and tiring but it’s worth it.[/ictt-tweet-inline]

There is truth to be claimed.

Joy that is ours for the taking.

Peace offered to us.

Solid ground on which to rest.

There is victory to be had.

Yes, there is much that will threaten to knock us off that rock of truth, but there is One who wants to hold us there. He is greater than our enemy. He gives us what we need for the battle.

So soldier on, friends.

Take every thought captive. Fight hard for what is yours. Cling to the truth that combats the lies you’re tempted to believe. Lift your eyes to the hills. Listen to your commander’s voice. Press on to take hold of that for which He took hold of you.

We don’t get to claim truth once and stay there. We fight to keep claiming the ground that’s ours. The more we do, the more we win.

Related posts:

Tell Me the Truth

When Gratitude Is Hard

This Kind of Jesus

Post author:Gina B
Post published:April 13, 2017
Post category:faith

What Kind of Jesus Do You Know? — photo by Greyson Joraleson

When I worked in campus ministry, I had a student insist to me that Jesus was white, because she’d “seen the pictures.”

Yeah. I’ve seen the pictures too. Jesus always looks so serene and other worldly, like in that one where He’s standing outside the door in a halo of sunlight. I get the feeling that if I were to ask that Jesus what He’s thinking about, He’d say something like, “Heaven” and I’d be all, “Oh” because I was thinking about chocolate, and then feel like maybe He and I couldn’t relate very well.

But a few years ago I watched The Bible on The History Channel. It was a great series, even if Noah had a Scottish accent and Moses seemed a little unhinged, and Satan looked like a cross between Obama and Voldemort. What I liked the most about it was Jesus.

When Jesus was with Peter in the boat, He just seemed so, well, human. He needed help getting into the boat. He sat casually and looked amused at Peter’s lack of faith. He spoke earnestly to him, and with conviction. He looked at Peter like you would look at someone you just really like.

Throughout the series, I watched Jesus’ face with fascination. I saw His joy when He was in the midst of friends. He was delighted with children. He was compassionate toward even the guard who came to arrest Him. His face filled with sadness and tenderness as He was betrayed by a kiss. He was human.

And then He swirled his hand around in the water and brought tons of fish to the boat and reminded me, “Oh yeah, this guy’s God.” He walked on water, He healed lepers, He gave the religious leaders looks that penetrated to their souls. When asked, “Are you the son of God?” He answered, “I am” and I thought, “These men stood in the presence of God and they didn’t know it.”

God with skin on. It’s such a gift. Yes, that was just a TV show, but the fact is that He was human for a time, and He did feel all the feels. He knows what it’s like to live among people. He knows what it’s like to be us.

I can relate to a Jesus like that. That’s the kind of Jesus I want to know. I can imagine him, as I go through my days, responding to me. I think He would laugh with me. He would cry when I’m hurt. He would speak words of conviction with kindness and tenderness. He would raise my head when I’m weary. He’d high five me when I’m having a great moment. He would tell me that he likes chocolate too.

And because of Easter, because of the resurrection, there is nothing to keep us from experiencing a relationship with that God, the one who knows all that we go through, who felt it with us, who still feels it with us. He is not someone who stands at a distance. He wants to walk through life side by side, doing life with us. Do you know that Jesus?

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

I Don’t Need Rescuing (Except I Do)

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.

Related posts:

Keeping a Sabbath Heart

Lean In

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

Climbing 2017 One Step at a Time

Post author:Gina B
Post published:January 5, 2017
Post category:faith grace rest

Two days into the New Year, and I whined to my husband, “I have too much to DO!”

“Like what?” he reasonably asked.

“I don’t know. EVERYTHING,” I told him (let me have this dramatic moment, mister). I have big plans this year, and those big plans are looming.

It didn’t help that I spent most of the last week and a half sick and fairly inactive. New Year’s Eve I was in bed by 9 pm (oh, who am I kidding? I’m always in bed by 9 pm, even on New Year’s Eve. A night owl I am not). After all that laying around, I came into 2017 like a racehorse fresh out of the box, like Pac Man ready to gobble down all the pac-dots and level up.

In all that down time, I was able to reflect on last year and dream big for this one. I filled that new planner with goals I want to accomplish and habits I hope to keep and books to read and ponies to ask for. I even added an extra page to capture the other roles and responsibilities I know God’s put on my plate for this year (I’ll send my planner 2.0 version to subscribers soon!). I immediately found myself wanting to chase down every goal, check every box, fulfill every hope that sprang to mind as I thought about this new year. And I wanted to do it before the end of the week.

It’s good and right to look ahead and hope for bigger and better, to plan for change and set our hearts in new directions. We want to lift our eyes from the path we’re on to see the next mountain we could climb. The problem is: mountain climbing is hard. Where to even begin?

Some of us look at that mountain and think, “What was I thinking? I can’t mountain climb,” and we give up. Others, like yours truly, think, “Well, if I run, I’ll get to the top faster.” Moron. You can’t run up a mountain.

It’s no secret I’m not the best at pacing myself. This may be why so many resolutions fall by the wayside: we who are so accustomed to instant results struggle to see the mountain and know how to conquer it a little at a time. We don’t know how to do the long journey. We have seen what could be, and we want it now. We see how hard the journey will be, and we doubt our ability to endure. It’s easier to decide not to climb.

The Chinese have a saying, “千里之行，始於足下.” (Qiān lĭ zhī xíng, shĭ yú zú xià for those of you who are familiar with Mandarin, or who just want to have a slighter better chance of reading it) We know it as, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

It’s important to lift our eyes, to dream of what could be. We must keep it in mind, as we live with the reality that today, maybe I only inch toward it. Tomorrow, maybe I leap. Tomorrow, maybe I check a box, or I accomplish something big. Then the next day, maybe I rest, or I go back and do the same step again. We keep our eyes on the top while we take the next step.

This morning as I walked, I prayed about this. I was reminded that I want to hold goals and dreams and hopes that are God-honoring, that are from Him. I want to do what He has called me to do, nothing more, nothing less. So if these are the mountains He has given me to climb, He can help me climb them, one step at at time. He can guide my pace, give me grace for the days when not much happens, and strength for the days I need to push through.

So I ask Him, “What step should I take today?” Do that, and it is enough. Remember: we don’t just have all year. We have our lives to keep moving in the direction He’s leading. The journey continues each day, one step at a time.

What I’ve Learned About Seeking God

Post author:Gina B
Post published:December 8, 2016
Post category:dependence on God faith hope word of the year

Ask God For the Pony

Post author:Gina B
Post published:December 1, 2016
Post category:dependence on God faith prayer

Ask for the Pony — photo by Cristian Newman

Every fall, kids make wish lists of all that they want for Christmas. When our kids were young, I feared Toys-R-Us. I was terrified they’d set their hearts on something huge we couldn’t afford. One year there was a giant toy pony that kids could actually ride. I think it cost $400. Ridiculous.

Years ago, my friend’s son was celebrating his 4^th birthday. Just before he blew out the candles, we said, “Make a wish, Luke.” Without skipping a beat, he took a breath and said, “I wish I could fly,” then blew.

That’s how kids think. I want the pony. I want to fly.

Somewhere along the way, we make our lists more reasonable. More practical. We stick to the budget. That’s good in some respects, but there’s an aspect of how kids ask that we aren’t meant to lose.

What are children like?

They are weak, needy, and unashamed. Boldly they bring their needs and make them known. They’re trusting. They don’t analyze whether or not the ask is too much or out of line-they’re just honest with desire. Faith that their parents will take care of them drives their asks.

In the gospels, I see Jesus inviting this kind of boldness in our relationship with God. He’s always asking people to come closer, calling out their desire, “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus honors faith, even when it’s just a desperate grab at his cloak. He makes space for children, calling us to be like them. We too are invited to come and ask.

So why don’t we? Why don’t we go to God with all our hopes and dreams and wishes and ask big?

The vulnerability of audacity

Prayer is vulnerable. It’s a raw and scary prospect to bring all our desires before someone who could choose not to fulfill them in the way we hope. We are tempted to hedge our prayers and only ask for what we think he’s willing to do, what’s in the budget. We wonder if we’re asking for the right things in the right ways so much that we end up asking for nothing at all. It’s easier not to ask than to ask and be disappointed.

But prayer is about so much more than getting what we want. It’s about drawing closer in trust to our father, letting him have our whole hearts, and in the process being shaped to his will. He can’t do that when we hold back.

Be childlike

I now try to be more childlike in my prayers. I go to God bare hearted, telling him everything I wish were true, everything I hope will happen, everything I want. Go honest, raw, angry, scared, confused, hopeful, searching. We don’t have to censor ourselves, but instead, trust that he can see through our aching.

As we do, he sorts out the aching. He is at work in these areas. Listen to him remind us of what’s true. We will feel his delight. He pours out peace and comfort. When we bring our whole hearts, he can fully sift them and give us the right perspective. It leads to gratitude and worship.

What’s on your list today?

Be audacious, bold, needy, honest. Be childlike in your faith and your trust. Ask for the pony. Tell him you want to fly. Bring your whole heart to your father who loves you more than life and trust that he will give you what is good.

“Which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” -Matthew 7:9-11

Related posts:

Ask Audaciously

The Power of Asking What If

Post author:Gina B
Post published:November 3, 2016
Post category:courage faith

I’ve always thought it was wrong to focus on the “what if’s” in life. It seems like a recipe for anxiety to imagine all that could go wrong, all that could be hiding in the darkness of “what if.” We could spend a lot of unnecessary energy trying to manage the “what if” scenarios.

But I’ve found that if I just try to ignore the “what if’s,” they don’t go away. They linger in my mind as nebulous possibilities with the power to hold back my hand from being brave. They hide in the darkness just out of sight, allowing the potential threat to grow. I’ve been discovering that there’s a lot of power to demolish lies and face the fears that grip us when we let ourselves get curious about the “what if” questions.

It started for me like this: One night this spring, as I was wrestling with my fear of failure (one of my go-to fears), I felt like God prompted me to ask, “What if you do fail?”

Which, honestly, felt like kind of a mean question. God, you’re supposed to tell me I won’t fail. You’re supposed to tell me everything will be fine.

But the truth is, it might not be. I will acknowledge that failure is a possibility, as much as I would like it not to be.

So I asked the question, “What if I fail? What’s the worst that could happen?”

If I fail, people might see. They might be disappointed. They might turn away. I might feel like an idiot (oh please, anything but that. Seriously).

“OK, well, what if they do see? What if they are disappointed? Will they really think differently of you? Probably not. They’ll probably be glad to see that you’re human. Does that define your value? No, it does not. Are you still loved? Oh yes, so very, very much. And not just by God, but most likely by those same people who have seen you fail.”

Asking myself these worst case scenario questions was not an attempt to build up my defenses to protect from the pain of experiencing them. Instead, it helped me see where I am trying to rest in others for life and love. As I overlaid God’s grace and truth on it, I realize I would survive a “what if.” Would it be painful? Maybe. Probably. But would he walk with me through it? Yes. And I have hope that I would come out better on the other side. More human. Less self-protective. Braver. More restful.

So much energy in life is expended in avoiding the “what ifs.”We try to ward off the evil, the painful, the uncomfortable, instead of trusting that a) God will walk with us through it and b) however hard it is, God can redeem.

Since then, I’ve been making a more regular practice of facing the “what ifs” head on. Confronting them is like pulling back the curtain on the Wizard of Oz and finding he’s not nearly as imposing as he’s making himself out to be. In fact, he might even be able to teach me something about what it is I want, what I fear, and how to look to God for provision and protection instead of to myself.

So ask the “what ifs.” What if I fail? What if I don’t get this job? What if things don’t turn out the way I hope? What if this situation never changes? What if my needs aren’t met? What if I don’t know what to do? What if I make a mistake? What if people see it happen?

Ask them not to guard from what could happen (or isn’t happening), but to remind yourself that whatever comes, he’s going to walk with you through it. He will help you see what is true about him, you, and others. Each time we do, we gain more courage to step with faith into the unknown.

Related posts:

When Fear Is a Dictator

He Makes Me Brave

Are You Looking for God in the Right Places?

Post author:Gina B
Post published:October 20, 2016
Post category:expectations faith

One morning last week my husband told me there was a hawk in the backyard. I glanced out the kitchen window and observed nothing. Later, he came in again and asked, “Did you see the hawk?”

“No,” I replied, assuming it flew away.

“It’s still there. It’s been there all morning.”

I looked out again, scanning the trees. No hawk. Maybe he was blending in with the trees. Erik led me upstairs to our 2nd floor deck and told me to look with binoculars. “Ah,” I thought, “it’s probably way back in the trees and that’s why I couldn’t see it.”

Nope. That hawk was right in the middle of our backyard, pecking away at bugs in the grass. Turns out I couldn’t see it because I wasn’t looking in the right place. I wasn’t looking hard enough.

There’s so much we miss if we aren’t looking for it.

That hawk, on the other hand, wasn’t missing a thing. Between pecks, he hopped up on the soccer goal and stayed alert, scanning the ground. Every minute or so he jumped down with lightning speed and pulled up a frog or a worm. He was focused, and it served him well.

I want to be like that hawk. I don’t want to miss what God is doing because I’m not looking for it. I don’t want to hold so tightly to what I believe his goodness should look like that I miss his actual blessings. I don’t want to be someone who loses hope, or doesn’t expect God to work, simply because he isn’t conforming to my plans.

Last spring, I spoke with a good friend about how easy it is for me to do this though. I have been in a long season of loneliness, brought on by a number of factors mostly beyond my control. While I have cried out to God to ease this pain, it seems he has been
silent on the issue.

But when I stop and look harder, I see ways that God is providing relationships for me. My life may not look like an episode of Friends (and let’s face it-whose does??), but I have people. Yes, it’s hard to grab the quality time I would love to have with them, but I am thankful for the moments God does give me. It might be a last minute serendipitous lunch with a friend, an unexpected phone call, a canceled appointment that gives me sudden time with someone else. It’s not so much that I am alone-I am simply so focused on what I think a lack of loneliness looks like that I miss what he is giving me.

That hawk, it appears, has made our backyard his home. He’s learned there’s life here for him, and where to look for it. He trusts that this place will provide for him.

You and I, we know where to look.

Life is here, being given to us day after day. He is with us, giving us what we need. Sometimes it’s in ways we wouldn’t expect, so we miss it. Let’s pry our hands from the preconceived notions we have of how life should be so we can grab hold of what he is offering. He’s at work. We just have to search in the right places.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all of your heart.” Jer. 29:13

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Looking for Jesus