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Maybe She’s Born with it … Or Maybe it’s Jesus

Published September 6, 2018 by Dawn

We all know Wal-Mart can become kind of a monopoly in terms of where we shop, if we aren’t careful. It’s so easy to take that one-stop shop instead of spending half a day shopping around for things. I mean, unless you are a shopper. I am not. I hate it. I don’t like crowds, or materialistic vibes, or the depths of vanity that try to manipulate me into buying things I don’t need. I bristle at the idea of spending money on frivolous and unnecessary purchases. I also have a pretty deep rut I’m stuck in regarding most things that I like. Just last month, I spent half an hour trying to choose a new mascara because Wal-Mart did what Wal-Mart always does: the moment I finally find something I like, Wal-Mart discontinues stocking it.

R.I.P. Covergirl Exact Eyelights Mascara. I loved you more than you’ll ever know.

There I stood, eyes wide in shock and befuddlement. There are several brands, and then a gazillion options within each brand! Although I liked the Exact Eyelights Mascara, I didn’t like another tube Covergirl had to offer, so the field was wide open as to what brand I was even going to choose. I paced back and forth through two separate aisles F-O-R-E-V-E-R, reading every last package trying to figure out whether I wanted Blackest Black or Midnight. Then I had to ask myself, “Do I trust this waterproof brand to come off with soap, or will I have to scrub my eyelashes with a metal scouring pad to chip it off?” Then I found something called “primer” and I wondered how necessary that was to a good experience with mascara, in general.

Right before I succumbed to feelings of hopeless frustration, a friendly Wal-Mart employee walked up to stock right next to me and I turned toward her in desperation. She took in the sight of a haggard female reminiscent of Jack Nicholson in The Shining and gave me a hesitant, customer service smile. I melted into normalcy a little and said, “Can you help me?” Our eyes met and …

Her eyelashes were incredible!

There were no clumps, no flakes on her face, no black smudges beneath her lower lashes. Every eyelash was perfectly separated from the others, long and blackest black. I swallowed my anxiety while tears of relief leaked down my cheeks. “What mascara are you wearing?”

She walked over to it, pulled it down and began explaining that, although it’s slightly more expensive than most that Wal-Mart has to offer, it’s the best she’s found. The package had a white tube and a rose gold tube. The white one was primer, and she explained how to use it and why it was a good purchase in general. She had no idea I was already sold on this product just because I saw her wearing it, so she prattled on a bit before handing the mascara over to me. I thanked her profusely and grabbed a second one for my daughter. I should have grabbed a few more because we all know it might be the last time I see it at Wal-Mart, but for now, I have the BEST mascara in the world.

Seriously.

This is a lot like how it is when others come to us searching for something. They come desperate. Empty. Bewildered. They’ve no doubt been searching for a while – in vain – for something to satisfy their deepest needs and finally, our worlds collide, and people see that we have what they need so desperately.

Jesus.

People don’t come to Jesus because of our testimony. Our testimony helps us overcome. It’s a reminder for those hard times, so that we will keep going with confidence that the God who got us through will do it again. That’s what scripture says; “They triumphed over him [Satan] by the blood of the lamb and by the Word of their testimony” (Revelation 12:11). Our testimony creates a “Cool story, bro” moment. People like to hear it, and it might give them something to think about or crave in their own lives. They might try Jesus out with hesitancy based on our testimony, unsure if that’s what they want and more prone to walk away in the trying times when their lives don’t fit the narrative we’ve created. But do you know what makes people sell out to our God? Seeing us with God all over us. When we walk, talk and act like Jesus is alive on the inside of us, we erase every measure of doubt in regards to His goodness. When people can look at us and see the effects of “Christ in me,” they will come to Him because the difference in our lives is unmistakable and beautiful and everything they wish they had. Peace, joy, love, kindness, patience, self-control. All the fruits of the Spirit of God, which cannot be emulated. They can only be purchased by Jesus and given to us in exchange for our acknowledgement and repentance. Wear Jesus, friends, and be a walking billboard for the God you serve!

 

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Published April 26, 2018 by Dawn

“God met me there tonight, Mom. Can I tell you about it?”

 

My daughter got in the car excited after church tonight. It was a nice change, because we’ve all been weary lately. The battle has been so intense … and so daily.

 

As her youth leader, I would love to say I had something to do with this. I guess in a way, I might have had a small part. You see, last week, I took a hard look at myself in relation to my kids’ relationships with God and each other and realized something very painful: in the past, I had warned other parents that their direct involvement in youth meetings sometimes hinders their kiddos from partaking in what God puts before them. Only I’m the youth leader … and I have two teens … and this applies to my family too. I humbly asked a few other youth leaders what their take on the matter was, and the Holy Spirit confirmed through a meeting of the minds that I was onto something. Therefore, I was responsible to act.

 

I went home that night and told my kiddos that I would like for them to consider attending another youth group on Wednesday nights. Our group currently meets Sunday mornings, and so Wednesdays, they join the Bible study with the adults. They both find themselves in over their heads in that group, and so I thought it would be a good idea if they were ministered to by another youth leader, on their level. She picked one and he picked another. First night of this experiment was tonight, and I have to say I am ecstatic about the results thus far.

 

My beautiful daughter climbed into the back seat with a beaming smile and wet eyes. She was exuberant. I hadn’t seen that in such a long time. My daughter has been loosely holding onto sanity and trying in her own strength to be the glue that holds everyone together. She’s the strongest of the three of us, for sure, and I have depended on her strength a lot lately. But she’s been quietly wearing down and I could see it, but I didn’t know how to fix this for her. Thank God, He had a plan.

 

She continued, telling me about how God pursued during the ministry. Each speaker said something deep, that called out to deep in her, and finally, they were given the opportunity to stand up to show their desire to be all for God. But she thought, “I’m new. It’s my first day. I’m not standing up.” She said she prayed at her seat, all the – and I quote – “Crap you usually say that’s rehearsed and meaningless.” I couldn’t have described it better. Then someone stood up and admitted that he felt not everyone who was committed had professed it with their actions. He asked them again to stand. More did, but not her. She still did not want to be the newbie falling apart in front of everyone. She just kept her head down and continued her superficial prayer, but tears were flowing now, her shoulders shaking and sobs taking over her body.” Then, someone came.”

 

She said it just like that, and started crying again. They asked her some deep questions. More of that deep calling out to deep that crumbled the ever-hardening façade, and just like that, she fell into the arms of her savior and admitted her struggle and need. She said, “I didn’t even know it but more were coming and praying, and I can’t … Mom, it’s just indescribable. This all sounds so cheesy when I try to tell you about it. God met me there tonight, and when I wasn’t going to come to Him, He came to me.”

 

I came undone. Thank you, Lord, for being her great Father. Thank you for showing my lovely daughter your loving arms and healing her. Thank you for the wisdom of friends that brought her to your feet. Thank you for divorcing me from pride and making this moment possible. You are truly magnificent and so worthy of my adoration.

 

My daughter longed for the day she could be a part of my youth group, but now, she and I both realize her need to be ministered to by others outside our daily situation. Trust me, I preach it at home. They hear it and I think my kiddos tune me out a lot. It’s important for kids to grow in Christ, and sometimes, we need to let someone else come in and plant the seeds. I believe this is both natural and necessary. If we could lay down our pride and admit we need each other, the church would be a much healthier, much more effective body.

 

For God’s Sake, Be That Someone

Published March 7, 2018 by Dawn

I probably have lice. I might have gotten it today … or yesterday. Or any number of days ago, because I did exactly what she told me not to do: I hugged the kid.

Being an elementary school teacher is TOUGH. I bring papers home to grade, grade during my plan, plan during my lunch and do recess duty in a skirt in the middle of winter. On top of that, I take tickets from kids who talk in the hall (which hurts me more than it hurts them), and hug kids who often have lice. That last one is where it gets me, though.

I was a day late into the news and found out today that a teenage boy committed suicide yesterday not too far from here. I cried all the way home from work. I wonder if he was the kid no one really wanted to hug in elementary school? I’m not judging anyone, because trust me, I cringe at the thought of getting lice. It’s a BIG deal. Cleaning everything in the house, not sitting on the couch for days, spending fanatical amounts of money to get rid of them … I get it. But are all those reasons combined good enough to reject a kid who needs a hug? Because this little girl is one of the hardest to deal with on the regular, and needs a hug every day, and I’m responsible for that!

I feel it internally. I can’t not hug a kid. I open my arms to that little girl daily and pray that all the love of Christ in me reaches her. I high five kids who’ve just picked their noses. It’s gross. I’m well aware of it, as my insides recoil sometimes, but I still high five, genuine smile and all, and do the thing because what if someone needs it?

I wonder what that teenage boy needed that he didn’t get from anyone? What kind of rejection did he have to endure to finally decide to take his own life? What kind of insignificant thing did people put up as a barrier to human interaction, and rob that boy? Not just rob him of interaction, but of joy. Purpose. Love. Life.

Seriously, we need to stop. Lice is VERY inconvenient, but it isn’t permanent. Stink is unwelcome, but it isn’t irreversible. Whatever other excuse we come up with, none of them are worth the risk of losing another student to suicide. Smile. A lot. Hug, every time they reach out with open arms. Forget about all the reasons you don’t really want to touch a kid and DO IT (appropriately). Kids need to know someone cares, and sometimes, they do not get that kind of encouragement at home. Be that someone. BE THAT SOMEONE! For God’s sake, people, be that someone.

Jesus was that someone. He said, “Suffer not the little children to come unto me” (Matt. 19:14). He let them interrupt him, touch him, hug him. Whatever they came to him needing, he gave, and he rebuked his disciples for not letting them come. I can’t imagine he didn’t lift them to God in prayer. He was exactly what they needed. He still is. Exactly what they need. And they will come to Jesus by coming to us. Let’s not turn them away.

“You Should Probably Pray About That”

Published February 26, 2018 by Dawn

I was chastised tonight in the parking lot of the church. I pulled in to the parking lot, put the car in park and prepared to practice my song one more time before going into the building. I was supposed to share a special song at the end of the worship service and I just wanted to practice it one more time. My son sat in the passenger seat, sunk down as low as he could go, looking off into the distance with a hurt expression on his face. He had disappointed himself just a few minutes before we got in the car to go to church and his reaction escalated quickly until he was out of control. To be honest, he had disappointed me too, but I am learning that sometimes, the experience is enough of a teacher and I was not going to hurt him with my admonishment since it seemed like his own disappointment was more than enough.

His voice, just barely above a whisper, broke the silence in the car as I was scrolling through my music to find the track I was going to use tonight. He said, “Mom, I am hurting so much.” I looked over at him and said, “Bub, you probably need to pray about it. I have to practice this song.” I only had five minutes before service started and we were still in the parking lot. I turned back to the phone, pressed play, and started singing along to the music, hitting all the right stops and starts, nailing the song … while the Holy Spirit stared into me. How can you think this service to God is more important than the person sitting next to you?

I was deeply ashamed of myself. If the Holy Spirit is going to say that to me, that means that God doesn’t think my singing in church – even if it’s for His honor and glory – is more important than praying with my son. It seems that goes without saying, but I probably do this often. I’m a one-track mind kind of person. I get stuck on something, and I have to work really hard to maintain focus so I will finish things, or I don’t. I am an expert at ignoring distractions to get work done, but apparently, sometimes, I ignore the work while I get distractions done.

I was really affected by this chastisement, and when my pastor preached this evening on the Acts 2 church, it dawned on me that this isn’t just my problem; it’s the church’s problem. We have mastered the art of doing service for God. Man, we do, do, do. And when we have a moment of nothing to do, we plan for the next service we are going to do. But we have neglected the people around us time and time again. We want to minister to people, thinking we can make a huge impact on them and their circumstances, but how can we make any impact on the world around us if we aren’t willing to stop and pray? The world is saying, “I am hurting,” and the church is responding, “You should probably pray about that.” Then we turn back to what we were doing before and ignore the brokenness around us.

The men and women of Acts who experienced a great, sweeping heavenly fire weren’t adhering to a carefully thought out program. They were praying. They were waiting on God. They had agreed with Jesus to still themselves in prayer until the Holy Spirit showed up. When the cloven tongues fell, those men and women were equipped to do God’s work, and God’s work no doubt took them by surprise. Which of them woke up that morning determined to make a fool of him or herself? The people outside accused them of public drunkenness, but they were just filled with the Spirit of God. They participated in what God wanted to do through them, and thousands came to Christ. That’s never happened in my lifetime, and I think I know why: the church has prioritized ministry in such a way to keep people and appeal to people, but not really to reach out to people where they are and minister life to the dying, or pray with the desperately hurting.

This is a tough word, but trust me, friend, I am not pointing fingers. I am GUILTY of this. My own son! I think, if we want to see a move of God as in past generations, we have to get on our knees. He must become greater and we must become less. We have to stop the incessant programming that keeps God in a box, close our eyes for a bit and really press in past the distractions to know God, know His will and His heart for the people around us. We need to be reminded again how powerless we are without Him, and then pray for the Holy Spirit to empower us in our weakness. Only then will we see a mighty move of God, instead of mediocre acts of men and women.

Notice in Matthew 25, Jesus talks about God’s work, and it all involves people. Reaching out the people. Providing for the needs of others. Taking care of those in desperate circumstances. Casting out demons and working miracles are most certainly a work of God that He equips people for, but if we neglect those around us’ most pressing needs because it doesn’t fit into our idea of ministry, we have failed in what God called us to do. Jesus warned that many will say to God on that day, “Lord, didn’t I prophesy in your name and cast out demons, and perform many miracles?” But Jesus said God would tell them to depart, that He never knew them (Matt. 7). These men and women thought they were doing the Lord’s work, but God didn’t acknowledge them or their efforts! Why? Because, while service is most definitely what God enables us to do, we are still responsible to do His will in His timing.

The church has become indifferent to things that God could never turn away from. How many orphans remain institutionalized because God’s people haven’t responded to the need? How many young people are desperately searching for love and attention in things of this world because men and women of God haven’t stepped into the empty places left by broken homes? How many men and women are more concerned about finding the right one, because they have never been introduced to The One who, alone, can satisfy? “You should probably pray about that.”

Father, break our hearts for what breaks yours. Teach us to pray, Lord. Teach us to tarry in prayer, waiting for you to move us instead of being so busy that we miss what you really want to do through us.  Remold your church into the body of Christ as it should be, and teach us to do your work, and not our idea of it. You love people, Lord, and sometimes, it seems that we love the lights, platform and accolades. Forgive us for putting minor things in the place of major things and neglecting those around us while we chase our own dreams.

 

Strength When the Struggle is Real

Published January 25, 2018 by Dawn

I sat here last night and wrote two or three sentences over and over, going back and erasing, writing something else. Nothing flowed because I didn’t even know where to start. A regular reader will have noticed a marked decrease in my blogging over the past two months, and I finally have a word that adequately defines why: stunned.

Like a deer hit with a high beam, I’ve felt taken off-guard. Hit hard and fast with an overwhelming barrage of things, and for a while, I didn’t want to talk about any of it because it would have been complaining and I am currently breaking up with self-pity. I didn’t want to go there. I wanted to share from a place of security and wholeness. So, let’s talk.

A little over two months ago, we took in a little boy who needed a safe place to stay for a bit. He’s six, adorable and more of a handful than I wanted to deal with. It was a God-thing, but it didn’t feel good. First lesson: our comfort is not God’s ultimate aim in life. We have to stop worshipping our comfort and refusing to do God’s will because it doesn’t feel good. Let’s just say this wisdom didn’t come immediately, but more of a chastisement. I was wallowing in my own self-pity and self-centered bitterness. Then, the Word said, “Whoever welcomes a little child in my name, welcomes me,” and immediately I was faced with this dilemma: who’s right? Me or God? I was hurting, but not right.

It’s hard to accept, with gratitude, a child who causes angst in your own children and purposefully annoys them to get their attention. A child who pees in the floor when he’s mad or upset. A child who moves like a sloth through his morning when you have to be taxi to three different schools before you head to work. A child who doesn’t do what you ask unless you watch him like a hawk, repeatedly disobeys, and is one more person not picking up after himself in a house full of people you were already frustrated with for the same reason.

This child has good qualities too, but I was so frustrated with the depth of sacrifice, I couldn’t take my eyes off the things that were causing me to choke, to give him any credit. Not only was my attitude unChrist-like, it was downright sickening. And I knew it.

Then, we added a third into what is now known as “the boys’ room,” (another thing grating on my already-hurting son), when I had to take in a short-term exchange student because they are my responsibility while they are here and this teen’s placement didn’t work out. He’s not a problem at all, but there were more sacrifices: Earlier mornings, shorter showers, less laundry days, putting on make-up in bad lighting and not having time to do my hair. Having one more person to pick up and drive all over every day. One more person eating meals and hanging the door open. My electric bill roiled my stomach!

On top of this – or maybe beneath it is how they feel – are my own two precious kids struggling with hormones, an absent father, pressure from school, pressure from teachers, pressure from friends, and needing me to console and love on them while inside, I’m kind of freaking out. When my daughter hit me with an “I miss my dad” at bedtime the other day, and all I could do was cry with her, the magnitude of how powerless I am in my life hit me hard.

Lesson two: hardships bring us closer to God, and that was why Paul gloried in them. I went to my room and prostrated myself on the stained carpet that desperately needs TLC. Inhaling dust and God-knows-what, I cried out to God because I do know that, although things seem out of control, He is absolutely still in control. I felt held.  I felt listened to as I poured out my soul. Then, I felt taught as the Holy Spirit reminded me that God’s aim in our suffering is to teach us obedience, perseverance, and all the strengthening words we need to help others in their suffering. Paul talked about being offered up on the sacrifice and service of other believers’ faith – he was talking about enduring trials so that the faith of others may be built up. His comfort, his desires, were the sacrifice. All so that others might come to really know God and His power at work on their behalf. This is such a beautiful thing.

I was also reminded that when you tell God you are ready to be used, you don’t get to pick the circumstances and it’s foolish to complain because God is answering your heart cry to be used. It just might not look like you want it to look. And it certainly never feels like you hope it will feel. God orchestrates our lives because we are His. While we are looking for miraculous and amazing things, God is in the people and places of ordinary, everyday life. So many of us will miss our moments to be used for His kingdom waiting on a stage and lights. If I refuse to be Jesus to this little boy, or this Chilean student, because they take up time that I could be holed up reading my Bible or writing, I’ve missed a divine appointment that I’ve prayed for simply because it’s not the way I envisioned my service to the Lord working out. But that’s not the will of God; it’s the will of Dawn. I set myself up as an idol.

When I thought I couldn’t possibly do another thing in surrender, God asked something else of me: I was asked to move our teen meetings at church to Sunday mornings so that the larger group of teens that attend on Sunday morning will participate in a service. I was reluctant, but I did it upon the advice and excitement of others and the peace I received in prayer. But as eleven bustling, energetic teens followed me up to our new classroom Sunday morning during the interim between worship sets, I faced my own fear: losing “my time.” Sunday morning is my time of truly pressing in to God. I mean, I have a prayer-life outside of church and my Bible and I are besties, but Sunday mornings fill me to overflowing like no other time of my week. It’s a time of release and abandon and submission. And when I close my eyes during worship, I feel alone with God and it is glorious.

I walked away from “my time” to teach a group of teens that sometimes, I feel, just want to mess around until the bell rings without really digging into the treasures God lays before us each week. Again, self-pity and bitterness sidled up next to me and cooed in my ears in patient understanding of my plight.

When I got home, I went to my room and laid my face on the dingy carpet again and told the Lord how I felt. Again, God comforted me and then reminded me of Jesus, climbing up a mountainside to pray and being followed by a couple thousand people. Or being chased by a boatload of them across the Sea of Galilee when all he wanted to do was mourn over his cousin, John. Jesus, who, of all people needed a break, stealing away for moments with God whenever the opportunity arose, but never insisting that a time be set aside specifically for him to pray. He made time of the moments in between, instead of making a god out his OCDs. Lesson four: It’s important to be filled, but God does not want you to make a god out of your set times to be with Him. He wants you to be available to minister whenever and wherever, and He promises to meet you in the in-between moments to strengthen and encourage you.

If all of this has taught me nothing else, I have learned lesson five, which is that people will drain us quickly. So many need Jesus, but they will come to us first and they will fill up on Christ through me and you. We are the first image of Jesus people see, and they will earnestly desire Him and seek Him out through us and we will pour ourselves out until there’s nothing left in the bottom of the cup. But emptiness is not God’s will in ministry. Fullness is. Springs of living water bubbling up inside of us. David said, “All my fountains are in you” (Psalms 87:7). We have to be with God in stillness and be filled. He is our source of replenishment. We need Him in order to be the hands and feet of Christ. If even Jesus needed him, how much more will we?

I can honestly say that circumstances have become so much easier, having heard these blessed truths. I can now look down into the freckled face of this six-year-old boy and see Jesus and my duty to Him. I can smile at this child without feeling the weight of the burden I thought he was. I can endure a host of students hanging out in my kitchen at eleven at night, eating my lemon meringue and stealing moments with a Chilean teen who will be leaving in a week. I can smile through the murkiness of mothering children who are experiencing inner turmoil. I can smile at God knowing that while I didn’t ask for any of this specifically, I did ask to be used and this is what it looks and feels like. I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.

 

The Agony of Our Father

Published October 25, 2017 by Dawn

Can we just not talk about it? I mean, I need to talk to you about something, but I really cannot actually talk about it. It’s still too raw. It still hurts and I don’t want to talk about it. But I need to, as an act of obedience, tell you the deep truth that was dropped into my spirit today. Do we have a deal?

Okay, so here goes: my son … my thirteen-year-old baby, my heart growing up to be a man … this boy that I love so much … he moved out a month ago. He’s been living with his dad. I can’t tell you all the prayers I’ve prayed, or the amount of tears I have cried. The fake smile I’ve plastered on my face to maintain composure around people because life goes on … I can’t tell you about these things just yet because I can’t even bring myself to talk about it with any real depth. The pain in my heart, the ache in my chest, the thoughts in my head. I can’t even.

Today, I got a call from school. They were just checking on him because he wasn’t there. I didn’t even know. I called his dad and found out he was sick.

Without me.

Today was the first day my son has ever been sick without me. He stayed home without me. The first time I didn’t hold him while he suffered. I didn’t even know he was suffering! I got off the phone and broke down in tears.  The Lord, being very gentle with me lately, whispered, “This agony you feel … I feel it all the time. My children choose to suffer without me too.”

Oh, my soul! My heart is breaking! Can this really be the agony God suffers through when His children suffer at a distance? This, guys … this is why Jesus came. Because for thousands of years before Calvary, God watched His children suffer the disastrous effects of sin. The turmoil of living outside of the will of God. The panic, fear, desperation … God watched his children suffer without him until he could bear it no longer. Then he sent Jesus.

But Church, even after Christ, there is still this war. This suffering. Endless agony. Christians living in fear and lost people living in sin. God’s heart, I now know, is breaking for us. How many parents have watched helplessly while their children have made bad choices and suffered drastic consequences? You know, then, the pain of a Father who loves his children. You know the feeling of desperation on their behalf. Can our Heavenly Father feel any less for his children?

If this is you … if you are suffering at a distance because you feel unworthy, I just want you to know one thing: God does not love you because of your worthiness. He loves you because he chose to as he lovingly knit you together in the secret place. He hasn’t changed his mind about you. You may have made choices against his will, and you might be suffering consequences, but you are no less loved than you have ever been because God is unchanging. If you feel the Holy Spirit leading you with this truth, I implore you to surrender and be led into the arms of God. He longs for you. His heart is yearning for your nearness just as much as you are yearning for his. Run to Him. He loves you.

Faith is Better than Fear

Published October 19, 2017 by Dawn

It’s three o’clock in the morning and instead of sleeping, I’m thinking about the first time I conscientiously told a lie. I was in fifth grade. I even remember where I was standing when I made the decision to lie, against my better judgment. I was right outside the gym in my middle school. I don’t remember who I was talking to, but I do remember the struggle. Angel on one side, demon on the other. I bit my lip and told a lie knowing in my heart it was wrong and I shouldn’t have done it. That’s not quite the same as all the lies I might have told before, when my conscience had not yet been awakened. This lie was pivotal: I realized how beneficial lying could be to me, and the first seed of suspicion was sown into my heart.

I’ve always been a little naïve. Apt to trust others’ words more than their actions. Imagine my surprise when, at 13, someone told me that everything my dad had ever told me about his life growing up was a lie. I thought the world of my dad. He was the bravest, most daring man I knew and I loved the adventurous stories he shared of his life. Then I found out they were all lies. It crushed me profoundly. But perhaps not as badly as the lies my first “real” boyfriend told. All the time. I wanted everything he said to be true so badly, I lied to myself in defense of him until I was 20! I can’t imagine how gullible you must think me, but then again, it’s probably accurate because … I was 20 when I finally stopped believing what everyone else knew wasn’t true YEARS before.

The problem became, not my believing everything, but suddenly, I believed nothing. My naturally trusting nature became naturally suspicious of everything and everyone.

The Lord confronted me about this a few weeks ago at church. A little background here: God has given me promises. Not just me, but all of us. I take them very personal. I believe my children are His children, and when God said in His word, “I will contend with those who contend with you, and your children I will save,” I wrote down the date He spoke this into my spirit because it was a rhema word to me. Boy, did I need it!

My son has embarked on a treacherous climb up his own mountain without me. God is training him to be a warrior and moms aren’t invited on that adventurous trip. There’s no way I could ever help my son become a man because princes fight dragons and princesses fear them. There’s a valiance that needs to be awakened in a boy that moms, in fear, can really impede. You couldn’t convince me otherwise because I’m living this truth. It’s not mere words to me.

Anyway, back to the believing thing: my faith has wavered for a while. I took my suspicion into the throne room in prayer and waved it in God’s face. He’d say something and I would get all defensive because I have learned to trust my sight much more than the words I hear – so antithetical to faith, but the world works opposite from God. He has spoken promises to me, and I have looked at the floor and angrily shaken my fist, refusing to believe. “But what is the truth here?!”

The Lord said to me while I was praying, shaking my fist, “You have been filled with suspicion, and you have questioned everything I have spoken to you. But God is not a man, that he should lie to you.”

That’s in Numbers 23:19, but it’s also been engraved on my heart since then, and this powerful truth has literally changed the battle in my prayer time. Whereas before, I would grovel at the Lord’s feet in utter turmoil because what is happening is so vastly different than what I expected things would look like (in my weakness, this does still happen sometimes), I am learning to pray boldly, speaking the promises of God into the atmosphere, reminding myself of scripture and the promises of God concerning my kids. Instead of allowing the devil to destroy my heart and mind with fear, I am pronouncing faithfully those things God has spoken. His words have become a weapon in my home, bringing peace and security into what has otherwise been the worst time of my life. I haven’t slept all week, but I have prayed powerful prayers in a place of real pain and heartache.

I might not be able to accompany my son on this long, scary trek. As his mother, I would have forbidden it. God knew that, so he took the matter out of my hands. He is raising a warrior. I would have raised a tall boy still clutching to his momma’s apron strings. However, although he’s in the hands of his Father, my prayers are with him, and I am speaking light into the darkness on his behalf:

God is not a man that He can lie (Numbers 23:19).

My children, He has promised to save (Isaiah 49:25).

No weapon formed against us will prosper, and this is not just my promise, but my son’s promise too (Isaiah 54:17).

When my son walks through the water, God will be with him. The rivers will not sweep over him. When he walks through the fire, he will not be burned (Isaiah 43:2-4)

If I raise up my children in the way they should go (which I have), when they are older they will not depart from it (Proverbs 22:6).

There are so many other precious promises in the Bible that I have begun to declare in faith because God cannot lie to me. And He will not, because it is not in His nature to do so. We do not need to regard the things He says to us with suspicion because if God spoke it, it is true. Although our feelings and our sight might disagree, we can bank on it. We may not know how, or when, God’s truth will come to pass. The timing thing is still something I am getting used to. God is working on a completely different timeframe than me and I don’t really understand it, but again, He told me I wouldn’t. God has never lied to us. His ways are higher, and His thoughts as well (Isaiah 55:8). We won’t always understand what He is doing. I promise you, though, if you begin to believe His word over your experiences, you will have peace and I believe Satan will tremble as you speak the promises of God over your circumstances.

If, on the other hand, you struggle to believe because of your experiences, I encourage you to read your Bible more. It is a record of God’s faithfulness in the lives of many other people, just in case you can’t overcome your suspicion that easily. Take your heart to God and read of His faithfulness. See if you do not experience a mighty change of opinion toward Him. Faith is so much better than fear, friend. God bless!