Ladies, this is the one "thing" that shouldn't surprise you, but it ought to make you grieve
It wasn’t the first time that I managed to listen to her, seemingly without judgment. But was I really not judging...or due to too many experiences, was I simply devoid of all surprise?
It was another phone call, another text, another conversation. As usual, I sat and listened to her. I paused my thoughts and nodded without surprise. I highlight not one instance, but instead, I choose her to symbolize them all. It wasn’t the first time that I managed to listen, seemingly without judgment. But was I really not judging...or due to experience, was I simply devoid of all surprise?
How’d I end up here?
When I was ten, I listened to my mom and one of her girlfriends recount a fight that had happened outside our nearby middle school. Without pause, an indescribable heaviness cloaked my entire being as tears fell without thought. The act of someone being hit, kicked, bruised...hurt. I didn’t know it then, but I was grieving. I was grieving over the fallen world in which I was living in and would later witness of its deepest fallacies even more—many of which would be found in me.
That heaviness remained throughout the day. But somewhere along the way, my grieving stopped. My tears remained dry. And I became accustomed to hearing story after story.
I thought that me listening to the sins of this world without blinking, without being surprised, meant that I’d finally matured from the quick act of judging when I’d hear another speak of one’s hidden sins; when I’d hear of the most perverse act; or when I’d hear of the crudest revenge played out on the news. I thought the fact that I could listen and not feel surprised meant that I created a safe space to allow another to confide in me and speak freely. But, one day recently, the Lord showed me that sin ought to not surprise me...but it ought to make me grieve. No, I don't mean that I should always manifest grief through tears, as I did when I was ten (though some circumstances may call for that).
Instead, what I'm saying speaks more to the matter of the heart.
Because sin is death, it's okay to grieve and feel a certain level of spiritual heaviness when taking witness to sin in my life and even in others. When I don't, it's substitute—cynicism—easily slips in and skews my view on life. Once cynicism takes root, it leads to hopelessness, and hopelessness leads to despair.
But, you may still be wondering, "Why Grieve?" "Grieve" is such a strong action word.
Because when you see God offering a storage of everlasting water, yet persons walking around thirsty for illicit sex, attention, validation, love, money; when you see God offering us unshakable joy, and yet so many paying high costs for temporary gratifications; when you see God offering us eternal dwellings, where moth and dust cannot destroy, and yet so many settling for makeshift tents; when you see God offering Himself...and us exchanging Him for _____ because He just isn't enough, it should make you and I grieve.
The heaviness that I felt as a little girl when witnessing hate is reminiscent to the heaviness I feel when I see the disintegration of a friend’s marriage, when I hear of another’s struggle with sexual immorality, when I see a family filled with strife and dysfunction, when I hear of a former friend now hooked on cocaine, and when I see my own inner pride choose to unleash venom towards my beloved. No, I don’t have to be surprised. BUT, I ought to take pause to grieve.
Why?
Because, this was never the Lord’s intended plan. This was never the Lord’s intended purpose for our lives. This was not how it was meant to be. And that my friend, should make one grieve.
I encourage you to take time to grieve and feel the Father's heart. And once you do, simultaneously grab onto hope for dear life. Pray—acknowledging how messed up this life and you are. And then, with all eyes on the light of Christ, with all eyes filled to the brim with the vision of a life that is to come but not yet, silently ask, “Redeem that which is broken. Fix what my eyes can see is messed up. Take back allllllll that Satan has stolen. And make new again.”
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Favor Ain't Fair: Why I Struggle Praying for "Favor"
There’s a reason as to why I don’t constantly ask for "favor” from the Lord. His favor is not “fair,” and because of that, I don’t know how to deal with it.
Have you ever experienced favor from the Lord? No, not in a way in which you subscribe to false humility by secretly acknowledging that a certain result was by your own merit. I mean that moment when you knew, without a doubt, that you didn’t deserve that grade, that observation, that evaluation report, that bonus, or that grace from a coworker, friend, or boss. Of course this is a conundrum of a question, because when do we ever really “deserve” anything except death? But you know what I mean...right?
I experienced the favor of the Lord on my job when recently pregnant. There were sooooooo many times in which I didn't have a lesson prepared (I'm a teacher), and somehow on days such as that, I taught the best lesson of my life. Another example included a time when I needed to create a project for students to do, and through limited time, I did so in a very rushed manner. Later, students told me how that project changed their life (what, really?!). It was during these times in which I knew that there was nothing at all for me to accredit my success to except by the favor of the Lord. He literally had His hand on me.
And yet, there have been several instances in my life in which I’ve not asked for the favor of the Lord.
Why? Ummm.... because I secretly think that I don’t need it (insert *gasp).
What do I mean? I think to myself the following thoughts: "I got this. I can do this on my own. I’ll ask for favor only on things that I know that I can’t do." I know it sounds silly, but these are my true thoughts.
But if I were to really look to the root as to why I think these thoughts, it's due to these two points:
If I can be honest, I want to secretly bask in my own glory when things go well. I want to pride myself in my own capabilities when things go exactly according to plan. Subsequently, I end up judging others by secretly thinking..,“well things didn’t go well for them because they didn’t do “xyz.” What pride. Yes, what pride :(.
Secondly, I succumb to these thoughts because (don’t judge me), I think that my own capabilities are more reliable than relying on or even seeking the favor of the Lord. Instead of running to the Lord and asking Him to grace me in my shortcomings, I seek ways for me to actively fix my shortcomings. The former requires faith. The latter allows pride to fester when things go well; but it also allows for feelings of inferiority to seep in when things don’t go well. My pursuit of the Lord's favor and my responsibility to improve upon my shortcomings shouldn't be mutually exclusive. Instead, both should be beautifully coupled together. Unfortunately, I tend to lean more towards the "fixing."
In short, when I experience the favor of the Lord, there is no room for glory. There are no doors for pride to be opened. I am left only to praise Him for His goodness, His willingness, His grace, and His mercy; while also being acutely aware of my own misgivings when left without His favor.
PonderedThought: I encourage you to pray for the favor of the Lord in every aspect of your life. His favor is not limited! If married, ask for favor in yall’s marriage. If working, ask for favor with your boss and in your work. If a mother, ask for supernatural favor to obtain more sleep, to keep the house in order, and to not be driven to insanity when looking at "organized" chaos (you can tell I’m a new mom, huh?) In short, we need the favor of the Lord. Don’t be ashamed or prideful to begin asking for it. And when you do, be reminded of whom you ought to praise when things go well.
Favor is never fair. Simply except it and praise God for HIs grace.
This little one reminds me of God's favor. There was nothing I did to deserve this gift of motherhood.
See link below in order to learn "what is" and "how to pursue" the favor of God.
Lord, Make Me Like a Child Again
My children’s expressions pinpointed a joy and a looseness that I craved.
Their movements lacked a sense of awareness and need for perfection that I coveted.
They simply ran.
Have you ever heard the phrase, “I wanna be a kid again”?
I hear this phrase often when adults refer to the absence of bills, stress, and major responsibilities that children have.
Hmmm....that would be nice in some ways.
Interestingly, the Lord is beckoning us to become like children again—not for the aforementioned reasons. Nor in terms of returning to the little wisdom, knowledge, and discernment we had as children.
The Lord is wanting us to become like children again through our disposition towards Him.
“Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”
”
Recently, while at the park with my kiddos, I observed my three-year-old and twenty-month-old running on the asphalt.
Their expressions pinpointed a joy and a looseness that I craved.
Their movements lacked a sense of awareness and need for perfection that I coveted.
They simply ran.
Coats hanging half off. Arms swinging awkwardly. Feet shuffling this way and that.
When they ran, I didn't see worry etched across their faces. I didn't see doubt. I saw very little self-consciousness.
Instead, I witnessed a beauty within their displayed confidence in simply being able to run.
I saw freedom, y’all.
As an adult, I’ve learned the social cues, the proper responses, and the ability to maintain control in both movement and word.
I’ve learned the right moments to laugh, the perfect moments to smile, and the appropriate gestures to make in order to appear mature.
I don't run with the sense of freedom my children possess.
Yet, when I come to the throne of mercy and of grace, I sense the Holy Spirit beckoning me to strip off my clothing and to allow His presence to burn away that which I most want others to see—my very adult-like exterior shell.
When He does so, I feel naked and exposed. My eyes suddenly become open to the wickedness that lays in my heart, and I become ashamed. He reveals my hidden thoughts and my hidden motives. The “adult” in me wants to quickly put my clothes back on. I want to leave His presence and come back with thicker clothing—harder to remove.
I find justifications.
I deflect.
I push away- afraid of the light that burns away the carnal. I frantically look for the strands of thread that I think are somewhat clean.
But right before I resort to running away all together, God's manifest presence overwhelms. Suddenly, I'm reminded of what it feels like to be a child again.
I'm reminded of the inexpressible joy and freedom obtained in His Presence when I relinquish my wants and desires through surrender and trust.
He's a Good Good Father.
I remember the warmth....yes, the warmth when I replace my substandard clothing in exchange for His royal clothing of righteousness.
Why do I forget this feeling? Why is it so hard to answer the call when God says, “Come to me, Jessica, like a child?”
Because in every part of my life, I’ve tried to hide being like a child. I’ve mistaken maturity for a lack of excitement, for a lack of making mistakes, for a lack of being vulnerable to exposing that I’m fallen and in desperate need of a Savior. For the sake of being mature, I mask pain. I find remedies.
Why do I do this??
I’ve learned that there are little avenues in life in which one can appear weak, incompetent, unstable...and broken—in need of assistance.
Ohhhhh…But there is one. It's in His Presence.
Children are dependent. Despite their obvious inadequacies, to others and to even themselves, they are still able to run freely in the fields of the unknown, completely comfortable. Why? I think it’s because they know that they still have time to grow. I think as long as they know that there is One who knows the way, they rest in simply enjoying the ride.
Prayer: Make us like children, Abbah. May Your Holy Presence burn away the fake clothes that we wish to put on in order to cover the scars, weaknesses, and even our own wickedness. We stand before you naked—in full belief that if we are Your children, You clothe us with Your own clothes of righteousness. Clothes that can never be removed, replaced, or altered. Make us like children again, where we can run through the fields with You, unashamed, and in full trust that the work that You began in us..You will complete.
I challenge you to pray to Him as a child, in complete need of the Father—knowing that He already knows of your your sin, your impure thoughts, your impure motives—and yet He still loves. His presence is the safest for confession and repentance. He’s a Good Good Father.
Confess sin as sin in His presence and be oh so thankful for the reality of Christ’s forgiveness. Be oh so thankful that as far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed your sins from you. Be oh so thankful for your imputed righteousness. Be oh so thankful that YOU ARE the righteousness of Christ. YOU are a co-heir with Christ! YOU are wrapped in His glory. YOU ARE a new creation! You ARE already seated with Christ in heavenly places.
Simply come to Him and don’t be ashamed of your great need to do so. In doing so, You will experience the utmost freedom. “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (2 Corinthians 3:17). “
Blog Post Inspired from the following passage:
“You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.”
My sexy husband and our son.
I Never Knew the Purpose of Chinaware...Until I Met You
For we women actually test those of whom we allow to be touched by. Like fine chinaware, we test those whom we allow to handle us.
The Pastor said we women aren’t “lesser than” but like delicate fine chinaware—to be handled with care and gentleness. No matter how hard I attempt to put up the exterior shell, his words ring true when I'm with you.
I don't like that, in the middle of night, you can simply touch the arch of my back and instantly cause my heart to beat with more ease. Or that when I'm out in public, I easily put up my guard, but when you show up, I just as easily become less aware of my surroundings. Or that when I desperately attempt to be upset, you have a way of melting away the coldness that was intended for payback. Or that when I try to act more put-together than I am, you have a way of coming alongside and quietly protecting the vulnerabilities no one else sees.
You have an effect on me, no matter the exterior shell I wish to put up.
Husbands, continue to treat your wives like fine chinaware, because whether we like it or not—you have an effect on us. Thus the opposite can ring true.
Don't raise your voice at her when you’re angered. Don't treat her with contempt when you grow weary. Don't ignore her when she's in need of a hug. Don't look at your phone when she’s pouring out her heart about something subjectively labeled insignificant. Don't grow insensitive when you see her tears—again. Don't stop letting her know of her true value. When you do, she may not react readily, but inwardly she feels what it’s like to be placed in the hands of the one who never read her instructions : "handle with care."
Yeah, I don't like that you have that effect on me, because no matter how hard I try to put up the exterior, I kid myself...knowing that I was neither made to be handled nor dealt with like tupperware. I'm unashamed to say that I'm gentle and need to be carefully handled.
But be cautious in not misconstruing the message of my words. For I live in a culture in which the prevailing soundbites to be "stronger" are gravely misappropriated. Be strong? That we are. Like fine chinaware, we women test the hands of those whom we allow to handle us. You see...we can’t last in the hands of someone who is weak, clumsy, irresponsible, or unfocused. I'd argue that a husband's strength is reflected in the lack of brokenness, hopelessness, and weariness, revealed in the eyes of his wife.
Be strong? That we are. Be wise? Welp, that's another blog post...
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I, the Female, you the Male
And just as suddenly, I saw the unique difference between you and I. I, the female, and you, the male. And we, madly in love, blind to such beautiful variance.
When did it happen? The transition from best friend to lover to loner. I felt close to you. I felt as a significant twin, almost. And just as suddenly, I saw the unique difference between you and I. I, the female, and you, the male. And we, madly in love, blind to such beautiful variance. As the days rolled on, for whatever reason, the loneliness picked up too, and I saw that my thoughts, feelings, emotions could not be so easily reflected in you anymore. They were isolated, as though apart of an isolated experiment—only found on a distant country. And you, an adventurer, were constantly attempting to discover where the new wind blown from within me originated—but also coming short and resulting in the fatal, “maybe this is just how women are.”
Then our child came, and my emotions, thoughts, and feelings became that much more exacerbated. My ways, that much more differentiated from you. Yet, I needed you just the same. I admired you all the more. And I clung to you—in awe of you, an amazing creation fraught with intentional uniqueness molded by the hands of my Creator.
Though at times I felt lonely, I knew that you probably felt just as lonely too. I, the female, you, the male. Yet I wondered, “did your world seem to be constantly changing and evolving as mine?” It seemed that you simply grew into a mature man from being a boy; whereas I appeared to evolve into entirely different persons, depending on the season. I don’t remember my teenage self. Perhaps there is still apart of her there. But mostly, I see things, circumstances, responsibilities—and my life adjusts to such.
But Father, where is she deep down within. Many say that one must not lose oneself as one becomes older, and so often women do. But so much of what I’ve become is... myself. I wish not to go back. I simply wish to be seen at current face value and currently understood before the next life event causes a shift in change, just as easily. For me, I look in the mirror and smile at the new ways in which You’ve equipped my inner being to handle the multiple thoughts, feelings, and responsibilities rummaging toward me all at once. I gaze into her eyes and am amazed at her ability to be gentle, bold, fearless, quiet, outspoken, guarded, vulnerable, submissive, and in charge—in the span of one day. But moreso, I stand in awe at Your ability to make her feel things that no man can understand, while still granting her the strength to undertake tasks that no man can comprehend.
So what do I do now? In the nights in which it is just me and God. Where the world’s rationale provides little reprieve and my thoughts, feelings, and emotions are nowhere to be found upon discovery. Where do I go? Where do I look to? I’m not sure. But in the meantime, I think on the other side of heaven, it’ll be understood a little more closely. Perhaps the Lord made me like this—wives, mothers, grandmothers, women—so that we could understand that there are parts to God that we will never fully understand. That He has deep feelings that we will never fully comprehend. Just as His love is deeply incomprehensible, I wonder if He ever feels alone. I know theologically inconceivable considering the Trinity. But I wonder if He/They/One ever wish to be known just as I am known. If He does—then these feelings are not in vain. In fact, indeed, there is One who truly understands. Therefore, I end these thoughts abruptly due to the peace brought about through the transaction of this one hopeful notion.
I, the female, and you the male. And now, more than ever, in the midst of seeing our differences, I realize I’m not alone. Difference shines light on my deficit, and I see how I need him/You even more. Thank you Father.