I am a magnet for strange. Seriously. A few years ago I was outside with my three dogs soaking up the sunshine. We had gotten a new puppy named "Willow" for Christmas. Well, our other dogs, Champ and Chelsea, weren't sure what to think of precious, little three-pound, Willow.
I don't like open heights. I can't stand narrow balconies. And when driving across a bridge, you'll find me hugging the rail along the inside lane.
My daughter Hope is one of those people who knows how to dress. She'll put on a blue and white striped shirt, throw on an army jacket and black pants, finish the look with brown ankle boots and look like a fashionista.
It's usually very subtle. I'll think about something I want to do or sense God calling me to, and a feeling of uncertainty comes over me. Doubt whispers You can't do that. You're not good enough.
What makes a woman tender also reveals her vulnerabilities.
What makes a woman transparent also exposes her wounds.
What makes a woman authentic also uncovers her insecurities.
Have you ever been in a pit? Yesterday I was. And you know what pits make me feel besides frustrated and down? Hungry. Usually my pit comes when circumstances roll into my life that I can't control. Circumstances that affect me, but that are beyond my control, make me want to find comfort in things I can control. And eating sure does feel like an easy to get comfort.
So familiar can some of our relationships be, we forget. We rush. We assume. We feel like we have forever. And feeling like we have forever cheapens the right now feelings.
As I stood there looking at the humongous shadow, I sensed God whispering to my heart: Renee, you can only see the shadow because you have turned away from the light. Turn back toward the light. Slowly I turned back toward the lights above the mirror, and realized I was no longer standing in the shadow. And, I also realized I had created the shadow by blocking the light.
Do you ever have days where someone tries to rip the joy right out of your life? I do. And it's really hard. It's a battle. The good girl part of my brain says, "Be nice. Honor Jesus with your actions. Your response is your responsibility. Self control, Lysa, self control." But the mean girl part of my brain says, "How dare they act that way! I'll show you!" One part of me says fold your hands in prayer. But another part of me says throw your hands in the air and pitch a good old fashioned hissy fit.
"God works all things together for good." "You were created for a purpose." "God has a plan for your life." What do you feel when you read these promises? Do you believe them, or do you sometimes question if they're true for you?
Do you ever ask yourself: What's wrong with me? One day I noticed how many times I do. It dawned on me that every time I asked, "What's wrong with me?" I was actually telling myself something was wrong with me. Then I would try to figure out my elusive fault so I could change it. I realized what I needed to change was the way I talked to myself. I didn't want to keep convincing myself something was wrong with me every time I asked, What is wrong with me?
"You are not liked." "Who are you to think you could do that?" "Why did you say that? Everyone thinks you're annoying." "You are invisible." Have you ever been taunted by these thoughts? I have. Why do we let such destructive words fall hard on our souls? Toxic thoughts are so dangerous because they leave no room for truth to flourish. And in the absence of truth, lies reign.
As the days get shorter in December, it seems the time I spend with God does, too. I long for His presence. I know I need His perspective and peace. But as I prepare for the holidays, my heart can get so focused on planning and buying gifts that I forget to unwrap the most important gift—the gift of Immanuel—God with us. In all the hustle and bustle, it's easy to fill our heart with everything but Him, and miss the calm hush His presence brings. I felt an unusual void around the holidays several years ago, and wrote a Christmas prayer to help me keep my heart where it needs to be. I display it where I'll see it often - to remind me of what matters most.
She was a strong Christian woman who loved her family but the attraction to this other man seemed unavoidable. She tried to talk herself out of it but her heart played tricks on her mind and the justifications for letting things go just a little further soon led her to a very dangerous place. She was becoming emotionally attached to this other man.
I found myself being challenged by the realization of how subtly this had happened. It starts off simple enough - a comment made that you mull over one too many times, a conversation in which you find a surprising connection, a glance that lingers just a second too long, or one of a thousand other interactions that seem innocent yet aren't. These are the dangerous seeds that can easily sprout into an emotional affair.
I know the heart-ripping hopelessness of a relationship unraveling. The coexisting. The silent tension. The tears. The first five years of my marriage were really hard. Two sinners coming together with loads of baggage, unrealistic expectations, and extremely strong wills. There was yelling. There was the silent treatment. There were doors slammed. There was bitterness. There was a contemplation of calling it quits. There was this sinking feeling that things would never, could never get better. That’s when I first started hearing the 3 lies.
Craving acceptance from friends and attention from boys. Because that’s what I thought would fix me. And that’s why I partnered with Shaunti Feldhahn to write "Made to Crave for Young Women" that moms can use with their girls to address this exact issue. Unlike the original "Made to Crave" book, "Made to Crave for Young Women," goes beyond just addressing cravings for food. It addresses three major longings of a young woman’s heart and explains how God is the only true source for getting our “soul needs” met.
Has this ever happened to you? Voices within remind us of all the reasons we’re incapable. Voices around us all seem more confident. And the voices of the naysayers are just flat out rude. Oh, how impossibility loves to scream into gaps of silenced dreams. But here’s the thing about impossible- there is some part of what we’re attempting that isn’t impossible. All impossibilities have a weak spot. And that’s the exact place where we must attack.
I threw the cup of orange juice across the kitchen. It felt good to do something, anything, to release all the surging anger and frustration. And I didn't even mind cleaning the pulpy, sticky mess. It felt soothing to know how to clean something. I knew how to wipe away this mess. And I liked seeing the mess disappear. If only my marriage mess could be fixed with soap, water, and a handful of paper towels. If only. I whispered, God, why does this have to be so hard? Have you ever been there?
I would beg God to show me how to raise a good child. One that stayed in her stroller. One that other people would comment about how wonderfully behaved she was. One that made me look good. But God seemed so slow to answer those prayers. So, over the years, I changed my prayer. "God help me to raise Hope to be who You want her to be." Emphasis on, "God HELP ME!" I think I changed my prayers for her because God started to change my heart. I sensed He had a different plan in mind for my mothering of Hope.
If I lived in the days of Jesus, I like to think I'd have been moved by His miracles. Changed by His miracles. Repentant and willing to live differently because of what His actions proved. He is the Son of God—the miracle worker. But would I really? After all, sometimes I act as though Jesus can work miracles for other people, but not for me. Not in my issues.
I was completely blindsided. I'd been called into a meeting at my church with another woman in leadership who had been upset with me for months. But I was just finding out about it.
There are things mommies aren't ever supposed to find. They aren't supposed to find themselves in a firehouse frantically looking for their child. They aren't supposed to find their child's name on a list of those who won't be coming home. They aren't supposed to find a dress to wear to their child's funeral. They aren't supposed to find that grieving for a child is like navigating a path with chasms so wide their continued steps seem impossible. Terrifying. Hopeless. I know these chasms. I watched my mom stare at them. I wept over everything she found reminding her my sister was gone. That's how I know what God would have me pray right now. For the families of the loved ones that lost so much last Friday. But especially for the mommies.
I love my kids, but I haven't always liked being a mom. Once my boys became toddlers who wouldn't listen to me or obey consistently, I kind of panicked.
I am a magnet for strange. Seriously. A few years ago I was outside with my three dogs soaking up the sunshine. We had gotten a new puppy named "Willow" for Christmas. Well, our other dogs, Champ and Chelsea, weren't sure what to think of precious, little three-pound, Willow.
I don't like open heights. I can't stand narrow balconies. And when driving across a bridge, you'll find me hugging the rail along the inside lane.
My daughter Hope is one of those people who knows how to dress. She'll put on a blue and white striped shirt, throw on an army jacket and black pants, finish the look with brown ankle boots and look like a fashionista.
It's usually very subtle. I'll think about something I want to do or sense God calling me to, and a feeling of uncertainty comes over me. Doubt whispers You can't do that. You're not good enough.
What makes a woman tender also reveals her vulnerabilities.
What makes a woman transparent also exposes her wounds.
What makes a woman authentic also uncovers her insecurities.
It seemed kind of trivial when I told God how sad I felt that we couldn't afford a Christmas tree. Then I felt guilty knowing there were others who needed so much more. But that year, I discovered how much God cares about the longings of our hearts and, if we're looking, He'll show us His heart for us in them.
Plans for the perfect Christmas danced across the stage of my mind. Inviting our out-of-town families to our home for the holidays for the first time was a dream come true. The fact that they could all come at some point between Christmas and New Years was just short of a miracle. I'm so embarrassed to admit this, but by the time everyone got here I couldn't wait for them to leave.
As the days get shorter in December, it seems the time I spend with God does, too. I long for His presence. I know I need His perspective and peace. But as I prepare for the holidays, my heart can get so focused on planning and buying gifts that I forget to unwrap the most important gift—the gift of Immanuel—God with us. In all the hustle and bustle, it's easy to fill our heart with everything but Him, and miss the calm hush His presence brings. I felt an unusual void around the holidays several years ago, and wrote a Christmas prayer to help me keep my heart where it needs to be. I display it where I'll see it often - to remind me of what matters most.
There are things mommies aren't ever supposed to find. They aren't supposed to find themselves in a firehouse frantically looking for their child. They aren't supposed to find their child's name on a list of those who won't be coming home. They aren't supposed to find a dress to wear to their child's funeral. They aren't supposed to find that grieving for a child is like navigating a path with chasms so wide their continued steps seem impossible. Terrifying. Hopeless. I know these chasms. I watched my mom stare at them. I wept over everything she found reminding her my sister was gone. That's how I know what God would have me pray right now. For the families of the loved ones that lost so much last Friday. But especially for the mommies.
When I was a young mom, I was desperate for a formula. I truly thought there must be a formula I could plug my family into that would yield great kids. And there were plenty of moms that tried to convince me they had the formula. Well, here's the deal. I now have kids ranging in ages from 22 to 11 and this is my very best advice in regards to the formula.
I would beg God to show me how to raise a good child. One that stayed in her stroller. One that other people would comment about how wonderfully behaved she was. One that made me look good. But God seemed so slow to answer those prayers. So, over the years, I changed my prayer. "God help me to raise Hope to be who You want her to be." Emphasis on, "God HELP ME!" I think I changed my prayers for her because God started to change my heart. I sensed He had a different plan in mind for my mothering of Hope.
I love my kids, but I haven't always liked being a mom. Once my boys became toddlers who wouldn't listen to me or obey consistently, I kind of panicked.
Do you ever compare yourself to others and feel like you don't quite measure up? Maybe you think you're not as smart, capable, personable, or as godly as they are. It is so easy to think that if we had more or knew more, we'd be secure. But the truth is, even people who "have it all" still struggle with feelings of insecurity. The Bible opens with the story of a woman who had everything, but it wasn't enough (Genesis 2).
We have the choice either to let doubt beat us up or to let God's truth build us up. If we have Christ in us, we have full access to God's power and His promises to live with a confident heart. But it won't just happen because it's possible. We have to take action.
Have you ever avoided dealing with pain because it would take too much time? Or have you tried to pray away the pain only to realize healing is a process, but one you're not sure you want to go through? Although we can't go back and change circumstances or relationships that wounded us, we can go back and process our pain with Jesus. In fact, we won't heal from our hurts unless we do.
Has this ever happened to you? Voices within remind us of all the reasons we’re incapable. Voices around us all seem more confident. And the voices of the naysayers are just flat out rude. Oh, how impossibility loves to scream into gaps of silenced dreams. But here’s the thing about impossible- there is some part of what we’re attempting that isn’t impossible. All impossibilities have a weak spot. And that’s the exact place where we must attack.
There are things mommies aren't ever supposed to find. They aren't supposed to find themselves in a firehouse frantically looking for their child. They aren't supposed to find their child's name on a list of those who won't be coming home. They aren't supposed to find a dress to wear to their child's funeral. They aren't supposed to find that grieving for a child is like navigating a path with chasms so wide their continued steps seem impossible. Terrifying. Hopeless. I know these chasms. I watched my mom stare at them. I wept over everything she found reminding her my sister was gone. That's how I know what God would have me pray right now. For the families of the loved ones that lost so much last Friday. But especially for the mommies.
I know the heart-ripping hopelessness of a relationship unraveling. The coexisting. The silent tension. The tears. The first five years of my marriage were really hard. Two sinners coming together with loads of baggage, unrealistic expectations, and extremely strong wills. There was yelling. There was the silent treatment. There were doors slammed. There was bitterness. There was a contemplation of calling it quits. There was this sinking feeling that things would never, could never get better. That’s when I first started hearing the 3 lies.
I threw the cup of orange juice across the kitchen. It felt good to do something, anything, to release all the surging anger and frustration. And I didn't even mind cleaning the pulpy, sticky mess. It felt soothing to know how to clean something. I knew how to wipe away this mess. And I liked seeing the mess disappear. If only my marriage mess could be fixed with soap, water, and a handful of paper towels. If only. I whispered, God, why does this have to be so hard? Have you ever been there?
Do you ever struggle with the mean mom trying to come out? Or the mean girl? Or the mean sister? Or the mean wife? How is it I can be marching along to the sweetest tune and then veer off so suddenly into a bad attitude?
I would beg God to show me how to raise a good child. One that stayed in her stroller. One that other people would comment about how wonderfully behaved she was. One that made me look good. But God seemed so slow to answer those prayers. So, over the years, I changed my prayer. "God help me to raise Hope to be who You want her to be." Emphasis on, "God HELP ME!" I think I changed my prayers for her because God started to change my heart. I sensed He had a different plan in mind for my mothering of Hope.
It all started one morning when I was reading a particularly stirring verse in Isaiah. About half way through I spotted a nugget. Not of wisdom. But a literal nugget made of chicken. Yes, there it sat on the end table in my living room. Right then and there I decided to do a little test. I left it just to see how long it would take for another human in my home to notice it and recognize where this day-old, unrefrigerated nugget of pieces and parts belonged.
When you try and try, always feeling like the answer is just around the corner, and then it isn't, it can split your heart wide open and leak dry all your reserves. It can make you feel unsatisfied and frustrated with everything. Even those you love. Maybe especially those you love. So you fake a smile and keep putting one foot in front of the other. But eventually you stop peeking around the next corner hoping the answer is there. History tells you it isn't. And wrapped in that perception is the noose that strangles out all hope.
Sadly, this is where many women live. I know this place because I lived there. I struggled there. I'm just wondering if you or someone you love might be there as we begin another year. A New Year. It's tough when everything around you screams "Happy New Year!" and you feel anything but.
A much healthier approach to the inevitable conflicts we all must deal with is to face the issue head on with grace and humility having asked ourselves one very crucial question. This question is so crucial that might I dare say not asking it could lead to extreme conflict escalation rather than relationship restoration. So, what's this crucial question?
Whenever I face situations I am having a hard time understanding, I have to park my mind with what I know to be true. Keeping my mind saturated with truth, keeps Satan from being able to whisper dangerous assumptions, false accusations, and faith-eroding perspectives. So, what is true in this situation? What is true no matter what situation we are facing? God is a good provider.
Five years ago I sat beside my youngest sister and listened as she boldly rejected my views of God. She's always been a free spirit, much too non-conventional for traditional religion.
She twisted her face as if half expecting a lightening bolt to strike us both. "But you ARE religious."
I laid my head against the back of the lounge chair, closed my eyes to the sun now washing over me and simply replied, "Nope."
Have you ever faced a personal struggle and wondered how God could possibly bring good out of it? How could Romans 8:28 apply to my hidden issues -- the ones I don't like to think about, deal with, or even admit I have? If you would have told me 10 years ago that God could bring good out of my weight issues and food struggles, I would have seriously doubted you. I would have rolled my eyes and excused myself to the bathroom. Bathroom stalls are great places to cry in secret.
Several years ago, God challenged me to recognize and refute selfishness by seeing — really seeing all that I've been given. And never looking at a blessing I was given as something just for me. I always make myself think two things...
I was standing on Hollywood Boulevard looking at the stars walk of fame when a woman approached my friend, Amanda, looking for money. It took my brain a few seconds to figure out why her face was familiar. So familiar. It was my friend from skid row, Juanita. We'd gotten Juanita off the streets the day before and taken her to the Dream Center. A safe place for her to detox and find healing. But less than 24 hours later she'd walked away. Away from help. Away from hope. Away from restoration.
If ever there was a drowning with no water involved, this is where my friend is. Maybe you have a hurting friend, too. Yesterday, I sat down to write my friend a card and send her a little gift. I desperately wanted to love her through my words. My heart was full of care, compassion and a strong desire to encourage but I struggled to translate all I felt on paper. As I prayed about it, the word "value" kept coming to mind. Remind her she is valuable. Remind her how much you respect her. Remind her she is a woman who has so much to offer.
It all started one morning when I was reading a particularly stirring verse in Isaiah. About half way through I spotted a nugget. Not of wisdom. But a literal nugget made of chicken. Yes, there it sat on the end table in my living room. Right then and there I decided to do a little test. I left it just to see how long it would take for another human in my home to notice it and recognize where this day-old, unrefrigerated nugget of pieces and parts belonged.
When you try and try, always feeling like the answer is just around the corner, and then it isn't, it can split your heart wide open and leak dry all your reserves. It can make you feel unsatisfied and frustrated with everything. Even those you love. Maybe especially those you love. So you fake a smile and keep putting one foot in front of the other. But eventually you stop peeking around the next corner hoping the answer is there. History tells you it isn't. And wrapped in that perception is the noose that strangles out all hope.
Sadly, this is where many women live. I know this place because I lived there. I struggled there. I'm just wondering if you or someone you love might be there as we begin another year. A New Year. It's tough when everything around you screams "Happy New Year!" and you feel anything but.
Right smack dab in the middle of one of the longest recorded interactions Jesus has with a woman, He starts talking about food. In the midst of offering salvation to the Samaritan woman, Jesus seems to wander off on this tangent about food. But it's not a tangent at all. Actually, it fits perfectly. It relates directly to the core issue of spiritual malnutrition. Specifically, it's about trying to use food to fill not only the physical void of our stomachs but also the spiritual void of our souls. For years, I've been physically overweight but spiritually underweight.
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Psalm 139:14 (NIV) God made you wonderful. Psalm 139 says so. You are beautiful and loved just the way you are, whether you're a size 0 or a size 30. But, if your size is a struggle or a place of defeat, God loves you so much He doesn't want you to stay there.
I know the heart-ripping hopelessness of a relationship unraveling. The coexisting. The silent tension. The tears. The first five years of my marriage were really hard. Two sinners coming together with loads of baggage, unrealistic expectations, and extremely strong wills. There was yelling. There was the silent treatment. There were doors slammed. There was bitterness. There was a contemplation of calling it quits. There was this sinking feeling that things would never, could never get better. That’s when I first started hearing the 3 lies.
I was elated one day when the number on my scale dipped below the plateau weight I'd been stuck at for two weeks. I did a little happy dance and thought, "Finally, I'm making some real progress in this journey. It's going to be such a great day. I'm super motivated. Bring on the raw veggies. Nothing's gonna stop me now!" Too bad things didn't stay that way. Variables are those daily triggers we didn't account for but will detour even the best of intentions. Triggers have nothing to do with physical hunger or the need for legitimate nourishment. They are lies that we've thought so routinely they've become well-worn paths to careless eating.
The other day a friend asked me if I ever get disappointed. I said yes and threw out a spiritually sound answer. And then the next day happened.
One minute I’m determined to trust God. In the next, I feel myself slipping. The “why” questions tumble in so hard. My heart hurts. My eyes leak. And in those raw moments I just feel a little mad and a lot confused. Ever been there?
Craving acceptance from friends and attention from boys. Because that’s what I thought would fix me. And that’s why I partnered with Shaunti Feldhahn to write "Made to Crave for Young Women" that moms can use with their girls to address this exact issue. Unlike the original "Made to Crave" book, "Made to Crave for Young Women," goes beyond just addressing cravings for food. It addresses three major longings of a young woman’s heart and explains how God is the only true source for getting our “soul needs” met.
I'm not always so courageous. In fact, I can be really hard on myself when I fail, and it doesn't even have to be a biggie. You see, I have what I call a "meanie in me" who replays my mistakes over and over, reminding me of how badly I've disappointed someone, or how impatient I was with my husband, or how harsh I was with my kids, or all sorts of ways that I fell short that day. But the greatest defeat comes when I allow a mistake, a bad decision, sin, or a broken relationship to convince me that I might as well give up. Perhaps you have also allowed failure to knock you down, tie you up with the ropes of regret and hold you hostage like I have.
Sometimes being sad or mad over stuff like this is a complete waste of my time. I’ve mulled her statement over in my mind a hundred times. It’s good. It’s truth. Indeed there are things to be sad about… but so much of what pulls at my emotions isn’t worth the time and energy I give it.
Has this ever happened to you? Voices within remind us of all the reasons we’re incapable. Voices around us all seem more confident. And the voices of the naysayers are just flat out rude. Oh, how impossibility loves to scream into gaps of silenced dreams. But here’s the thing about impossible- there is some part of what we’re attempting that isn’t impossible. All impossibilities have a weak spot. And that’s the exact place where we must attack.
I threw the cup of orange juice across the kitchen. It felt good to do something, anything, to release all the surging anger and frustration. And I didn't even mind cleaning the pulpy, sticky mess. It felt soothing to know how to clean something. I knew how to wipe away this mess. And I liked seeing the mess disappear. If only my marriage mess could be fixed with soap, water, and a handful of paper towels. If only. I whispered, God, why does this have to be so hard? Have you ever been there?
My heart is stirred today to say it's time to quit. Not ministry. Not a relationship. But quit being critical of someone I love very much. The crazy thing is, I'm not a critical person. But I've found myself slipping into a pattern of giving this person what they give me. They criticize. So, I've started criticizing back. A lot. And I'm feeling very convicted this morning that I need to model a different attitude and approach to life.
Do you ever struggle with the mean mom trying to come out? Or the mean girl? Or the mean sister? Or the mean wife? How is it I can be marching along to the sweetest tune and then veer off so suddenly into a bad attitude?
I would beg God to show me how to raise a good child. One that stayed in her stroller. One that other people would comment about how wonderfully behaved she was. One that made me look good. But God seemed so slow to answer those prayers. So, over the years, I changed my prayer. "God help me to raise Hope to be who You want her to be." Emphasis on, "God HELP ME!" I think I changed my prayers for her because God started to change my heart. I sensed He had a different plan in mind for my mothering of Hope.
If I lived in the days of Jesus, I like to think I'd have been moved by His miracles. Changed by His miracles. Repentant and willing to live differently because of what His actions proved. He is the Son of God—the miracle worker. But would I really? After all, sometimes I act as though Jesus can work miracles for other people, but not for me. Not in my issues.
I was completely blindsided. I'd been called into a meeting at my church with another woman in leadership who had been upset with me for months. But I was just finding out about it.
There are things mommies aren't ever supposed to find. They aren't supposed to find themselves in a firehouse frantically looking for their child. They aren't supposed to find their child's name on a list of those who won't be coming home. They aren't supposed to find a dress to wear to their child's funeral. They aren't supposed to find that grieving for a child is like navigating a path with chasms so wide their continued steps seem impossible. Terrifying. Hopeless. I know these chasms. I watched my mom stare at them. I wept over everything she found reminding her my sister was gone. That's how I know what God would have me pray right now. For the families of the loved ones that lost so much last Friday. But especially for the mommies.
I am a magnet for strange. Seriously. A few years ago I was outside with my three dogs soaking up the sunshine. We had gotten a new puppy named "Willow" for Christmas. Well, our other dogs, Champ and Chelsea, weren't sure what to think of precious, little three-pound, Willow.
I don't like open heights. I can't stand narrow balconies. And when driving across a bridge, you'll find me hugging the rail along the inside lane.
My daughter Hope is one of those people who knows how to dress. She'll put on a blue and white striped shirt, throw on an army jacket and black pants, finish the look with brown ankle boots and look like a fashionista.
It's usually very subtle. I'll think about something I want to do or sense God calling me to, and a feeling of uncertainty comes over me. Doubt whispers You can't do that. You're not good enough.
What makes a woman tender also reveals her vulnerabilities.
What makes a woman transparent also exposes her wounds.
What makes a woman authentic also uncovers her insecurities.
Temptation of any kind is Satan's invitation to get our needs met outside the will of God. One of the subtle ways he does this is to plant the hesitant thought in our mind that God will not meet our needs — that God is not enough. Satan wants us to feel alone and abandoned, so that we turn to his offerings instead. It's the seduction of satisfaction.
Today, there will be a moment. No one will snap a picture of it.
It will come.
It will go.
It will slip by seemingly unnoticed.
This moment where something creeps into our heart and pulls our focus from right to wrong. It will be just a hint of distortion. The smallest amount. But a slight and seemingly insignificant amount of skewed thought will take root.
And grow.
Beyond what you can even imagine.
Have you ever felt yourself pulled into a forbidden but exciting situation? You sense red flags but convince yourself you can handle it. "I'm just having a little fun. This won't ever amount to anything. It just gives me a little something to look forward to." The slippery slope has one major tell tale sign—things are done in secret. The minute we start hiding things from those who love us, doing things in a sneaky way, lying or telling half-truths, and figuring out ways to cover up evidence of our activities—we're on the slippery slope. And we're headed downhill fast.
She was a strong Christian woman who loved her family but the attraction to this other man seemed unavoidable. She tried to talk herself out of it but her heart played tricks on her mind and the justifications for letting things go just a little further soon led her to a very dangerous place. She was becoming emotionally attached to this other man.
I found myself being challenged by the realization of how subtly this had happened. It starts off simple enough - a comment made that you mull over one too many times, a conversation in which you find a surprising connection, a glance that lingers just a second too long, or one of a thousand other interactions that seem innocent yet aren't. These are the dangerous seeds that can easily sprout into an emotional affair.
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Psalm 139:14 (NIV) God made you wonderful. Psalm 139 says so. You are beautiful and loved just the way you are, whether you're a size 0 or a size 30. But, if your size is a struggle or a place of defeat, God loves you so much He doesn't want you to stay there.
I was elated one day when the number on my scale dipped below the plateau weight I'd been stuck at for two weeks. I did a little happy dance and thought, "Finally, I'm making some real progress in this journey. It's going to be such a great day. I'm super motivated. Bring on the raw veggies. Nothing's gonna stop me now!" Too bad things didn't stay that way. Variables are those daily triggers we didn't account for but will detour even the best of intentions. Triggers have nothing to do with physical hunger or the need for legitimate nourishment. They are lies that we've thought so routinely they've become well-worn paths to careless eating.
Do you ever get overwhelmed when you sit down to read your Bible? There are so many books, deep thoughts, spiritual insights and life altering truths… where do we begin for today? Right now I’m in a season where I don’t consume chapters at a time. Some days it’s just one or two verses so that I can live Proverbs 5:1. I want to really pay attention. I need to listen well to what God is saying. I look for one verse that I can savor word by word, letting it sink in deep… interrupting me, rearranging me, redirecting me.
How to Stop Running the Show and Start Walking in Faith
by Karen Ehman
Women are wired to control. We make sure the house is clean, the meals are prepared, the beds are made, the children are dressed, and everyone gets to where they’re going on time. But sometimes our strength of being conscientious can morph into the weakness of being a slight—or all out—control freak! This humorous, yet spiritually practical book will help you learn how to control what you should, trust God with what you can’t, and more importantly, decide which one is which! Join Karen Ehman, a recovering control freak, as she enables you to:
