God, grant me the state of being calm, peaceful, untroubled, 
accepting the things I cannot change; 
the ability to do something that frightens me; 
and the quality of good judgment over all such matters. 
(The Serenity Prayer, my emphasis added) 

As 2020 comes to a close, I realize the positive changes and growth in me:     

• I search my heart and give myself permission, space, and a set time to grieve any losses.  Some evenings before bedtime, I allow myself 10 minutes to cry, rant, pray, etc., over hurts and pain that live inside of me.  Then, I go to bed and welcome a new day by moving forward.     

• I recognize some of my self-sabotaging behaviors.  If it involves another person, I admit my mistake(s) and try to correct it as best I know how (Romans 12:18).

• I accept that I make mistakes and that I will make more in the future.  In the past, I have seen my mistakes as permanent damage, unrepairable, etc., but God’s mercy is greater:  “If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything” (1 John 3:20). 

• Everyone that crosses my path is a teacher. 

• I live in the moment; I am more attuned to what is God showing me right now, right this moment.  What a gift!  He is always speaking to us: “For God does speak—now one way, now another—though no one perceives it” (Job 33:14).    

• I let go of controlling outcomes.  In doing this, I have been pleasantly surprised (in a good way) rather than let down.    

• Where I have been more prone to make up “scenarios” in my mind of what might happen, I am learning that better outcomes are a result of me being proactive rather than reactive.  I have self-control because of His Spirit (Galatians 5:23).    

• I work hard, yet I make rest just as much a priority.   

• I’ve settled the one lingering question I have had about what I am looking for in a husband.  It’s simple: Someone who will LEAD: lead by example; lead the connection; lead in spirit and in truth; and lead in love.

• I realize that as much as I love some people, God has a specific purpose for me and not everyone will walk alongside me in that journey.  Because of this perspective, I am seeing the bigger picture.    

• I pause and breathe to calm myself.   

• I stopped replaying and talking about the things that happened to me or hurt me.  I mostly talk to God when things bother me.  This has helped quiet my spirit as I wait patiently for God’s healing.     

• Instead of being guarded, I am open to what God has in store for me and my future.  I am excited actually.  I know He means goodness (and mercy—so important!) for me all the days of my life, and He will withhold no good thing (Psalm 23:6 & Psalm 84:11). 

• I have experienced unconditional love from my friends.  What can I say?? THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! You have shown me what it is, what it looks like, and made me believe I am worthy of it in all of my relationships. 

• I focus more on what I have than what I don’t have: I have an amazing career where I can use the gifts and talents God has given me; I have coworkers and classmates who have helped me hone in on my craft as a teacher; I have a beautiful, welcoming home where others (and myself) can experience a place of refuge; I have a community of neighbors willing to help me in my time of need; I have a church family that embraces me; I have lifelong friends who know my story and who continue to love me unconditionally; and I have had the resources and time to invest further in my education so that I can broaden career options.  Lastly, I have my health and am able to thrive in life.    

• I trust God’s timing and plan for my life.    

• I have learned that not all things are black and white.  Even in the darker times this past year, I learned something about myself and my relationships.  My pain wasn’t wasted.

• “No” is a grace-filled answer sometimes.   

• Living alone doesn’t have to be lonely.  I am focusing on self-care and self-love for the first time.                

• I have invested in a life-coach, or rather she invests in me.  It is a safe-space where I talk to her once a week for an hour about my thoughts and what is going on in my life.  In talking to her, I am noticing my patterns– We all have them! I welcome constructive criticism because I know this person loves me and wants to see my growth.  (She will never know how much this means to me.)    

• Many times I have been more indirect than direct in my communication with others.  I am changing the way I express my requests, pushing fear and pride aside (2 Timothy 1:7). 

• I have changed my verbiage from “I deserve better” to “I am worth it!” I will not settle for less than I am worth!     

• Small steps are progress, and I celebrate those.   

• I am taking risks.  If a desire in my heart surfaces, I am pursuing it (Psalm 37:4).     

My motto for 2021 is to embrace my most genuine, authentic self and not forget the important words of the Serenity Prayer. My best is yet to come.  My story is not over.   

Photo by Chinh Le Duc on Unsplash

“God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth.” (John 4:24)

I treasure natural conversations with others that center around our spiritual walk with God.  It was refreshing to open this sort of dialogue with someone close to me just a couple of weeks ago.  We talked about God opening doors of opportunity, walking in the will of God, and communing with Him. That conversation stayed with me, and I mulled over one particular portion of it where my friend mentioned prayer, how he just talked to God and told Him he loved Him.  His statement convicted me. Besides corporate worship, I couldn’t remember the last time I personally worshiped Him in sustained adoration for who He is; I had bombarded Him lately only with my requests and concerns. 

A few days later, a particular worship song reeled in my mind and spirit; I pulled up the song on my cell phone and listened to it on my way to work.  I came without an agenda. No requests were made. I needed to feel the closeness of God. 

In that intentional moment of worship, I dwelled on Him— His name, His goodness, and His faithfulness.  As I entered His presence, three immediate benefits followed: Peace flowed like a river and sustained all throughout that day and even the days that followed (Isaiah 66:12a); like a reset, He became the focal point in all my thoughts, dealings, and interactions with others (Colossians 3:1-4); and I experienced a vulnerable freedom to be myself without reservation or pretense (2 Corinthians 3:17).  This spiritual encounter brought about something supernatural with the much needed reminder that the communing intimacy of God is unmatched, paling in comparison with the fellowship of others. 

I am thankful the Holy Spirit showed up in my Honda that day.  He didn’t shut the door on me and say, “It’s been a long time. Too long.”  Like a lifetime, old friend, from my last personal worship encounter to this one, the gap in between didn’t matter; He welcomed me in His presence without guilt or shame.  How comforting it is to know that we have an open-door policy with Him always, no matter how long we’ve been away and no matter the condition of our heart!  

I am also thankful for the divine conversation with my friend who moved me forward in my faith.  It appointed the act of intentional, loving worship. Instead of looking for His hand, I looked for His face.  And I found Him. 

Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

Between my divorce and now, you know what happened in the middle?  You found Him (God).  Those years in between felt like an exile, but you learned what a home was and made one for yourself.  You learned to be decisive without overthinking and worrying since your life is in His hands.  You learned to give up control of who people are and how they treat you.  You learned to be content in any and all circumstances.  You found peace.  A man didn’t give you any of these things, which means now your expectations on another have been minimalized.  This gives the other person in your life license to be who they are, accepting them just as they are.  Just don’t forget your value and stick up for yourself when need be.  You are a person with a will and emotions, unique and valued.  You need to take care of yourself rather than look to another human being to do it for you. 

You have made mistakes.  You are making mistakes.  You will make mistakes.  This is a part of life.  When you get hard on yourself for your screw ups, remember the advice and consoling encouragement you give others.  You give so much grace to others; you are worthy of it too.  Do you hold mistakes over people’s heads?  No.  So don’t do it to yourself.  Let God have the final say.  He knew what you would do before you did it and still thought you were worth dying for.

You are excited and scared at this juncture of your life.  You fear these three things most right now: getting your heart broken, failing health, and being alone.  At one point all of these things are going to happen in some shape, form, or fashion.  You’ve faced these kind of situations before, and you made it.  You survived.  Remember what that Springville Camp preacher said about people who have suffered most?  “They are the most dangerous people in the world because they know they can survive.”  You are a survivor and an overcomer.  Whether these things are healed here on earth or in heaven, you win.  You will survive any storm thrown your way on this earth because you trust in God who is your anchor of hope.  He has never forsaken you or left you alone.  Ever.  And He never will.  When everything else changes around you, God will not.  He is your constant.  He is peace. He is hope.  He is strength.  Run to Him when you get tired and weary.

What if _________ isn’t the one?  What if you never marry again?  Continue to walk in the path God shows you and do not fear.  God’s plans for you are bigger and greater than any dream you could ever conjure up for yourself.  It will all work out in the end exactly the way it was supposed to all along.    

You’re surprised when something good happens to you.  You’ve always waited for the other shoe to drop.  God has good things planned for you, plans from long ago that cannot be thwarted, which means you cannot mess things up enough and neither can those who might oppose you.  You and your contenders are just not powerful enough to change your destiny; only God is.       

So rest.  Rest is active spiritual warfare.  You are just now learning what that is, and it has proved more effective than you expected.  God has more things to show you.  Let go and let God. You are in the best of hands.  You are His beloved. 

Photo by Freddy Castro on Unsplash

One thing I’ve noticed when talking to missionaries is their passion and ability to hold onto their stories and retell them in such a profound and vivid way.  Ask any missionary about their mission work, and be ready to hear an out-pouring of their heart.  They are more than willing to share their stories, full of detailed experiences that have made a significant mark on their life.  I’ve enjoyed listening to their stories too.  I also have visited countries on mission trips and have found that my visits and interaction with the nationals have left a lasting impression on my life. 

Something about missionaries’ stories and their enthusiasm to share them makes me want to partake as an observant listener.  I savor their stories as if slowly sipping on a hot cup of tea.   Mix passion with a true account of something, and I am drawn in instantly.  I de-stress, and with ease, as they reenter that world, I enter with them.  That’s what happened to me one Sunday when I visited the Harris family.  I would enter their world of mission work as they told me their story. 

In 1976 while cleaning a church auditorium and listening to a taped sermon of a missionary to the Philippines, Travis and Earlene Harris responded to the call to become missionaries.  Mr. Harris was pastoring a church in Phenix City, Alabama.  They went on deputation to raise support and then arrived in Holland late summer of ‘78.  The young couple in their late 20’s with their three children at the time (11, 9, and 2 years of age) would move to Europe, giving up their home; the closeness of extended family; financial security; the familiarity of like-minded people who spoke their same language; and a freedom state of government for a more regulatory one.   

The countries of Holland/Belgium were their choice areas of ministry since it was very populated with over 25 million people.  It wouldn’t be as easy as selling everything they had, flying to Europe, and picking up life where they left off in the United States though.  Starting off as a missionary came with its challenges.  Especially earlier on, Mrs. Harris explained how she didn’t want to leave the house because of the language barrier and not understanding their currency.  Feeling vulnerable, she said they had to learn for a while how not to be stressed. 

There always seemed to be some type of new challenge to overcome, too, even after living in the country for several years.  Towards the end of their ministry, something as simple as having trash picked up proved to be an ordeal.  People who lived there had to sign up and pay for the trash containers, using only the bins provided by the government.  Nothing was wasted; everything was recycled.  The city wouldn’t recognize the Harris’ since their latest permission to stay in the country had been delayed, so they ended up having to live with their own trash in the storage closet of their home.  A US military service man found out about the situation and politely offered to secretly dispose of the trash at the local military base.  Even though nothing major might have happened if caught in this arrangement, it’s just one of those little things that compounds the stressful situation they were already in.       

Medical attention is vastly different in Europe than in the United States.  Dentists and doctors work out of their homes for basic care.  The person scheduling the appointment, preparing the service, and practicing medicine might all be a one man operation.  Mrs. Harris shared how she had a growth underneath her skin near her eye.  The home care, primary doctor told her it needed to be lanced at the hospital.  She would arrive at the hospital on the day that particular procedure would be performed on her and all others that needed similar services.  They would be seated in rows and moved down like an assembly line until their turn.  Once called back, the doctors performed the procedure without any protective face masks and surgical gloves.  If an instrument was dropped during the procedure, no sterilization was used.  They would pick it up and continue where they left off.  Also in some cases, no anesthetic was used to numb the pain for the patient during a procedure.  Not only would the pain of some topical procedures be felt by the patient but also one would be well aware of what was happening to them during the duration of the procedure.  Once Mrs. Harris was told she had to have back surgery.  After discussing it with her husband, he sent her back to the states for surgery.  Taking the x-rays with her, a US doctor examined them and said her back was fine; it was her hip that was out of socket, which they popped back into place.  This was a good call for the Harris’.  Although any medical practice, whether in Europe or the States, is likely to make poor judgment calls, at least Mrs. Harris didn’t have to go through that traumatizing event for nothing.      

With the couple being in their 70’s now, what stirred my heart the most was hearing Mr. Harris’s continued burden for the people in Holland and Belgium.  He spoke of their lost faith.  Roughly 3%, mostly the older generation, attend church.  With such a devastating history, these area European countries have always been run over in terms of the global conflict of both world wars, especially the second.  The turn toward Humanism after WWII could have been connected to the desolation that Germany left both countries in and why it had happened.  Many of the religious leaders gave into the Nazis so readily.  All that together most likely had an effect and made way for Humanistic ideologies.  It is unimaginable what the people went through and how it affected their belief and the belief of future generations.  What did the effects of that look like for the Harris’ as a Christian missionary family?  Mr. Harris said he probably knocked on 3,000 doors, and the people were so hardhearted in hearing the gospel, they’d ignore him.    

Returning to life in the States after being missionaries in Europe for 30 years, they felt displaced.  It was hard to know where home was for the Harris’.  Mr. Harris explained the struggle by quoting what Gerald Rose, a missionary friend, once said: “Being in Europe, you miss the comforts of the United States.  Being in the United States, you feel the burden to be in Europe.  I just finally told a man one day when he asked where home was, I told him it’s where my wife is.”  These last shared statements really moved me.  Missionaries make life-long connections to a people not their own, but their true home is found in their familial relationships (which I have observed is the case for most missionary families I have met).  I’ve spent a few Sundays with the Harris family now, and I’m envious of their strong family bond.  Living in America, they relied on outside institutions that procured a stable and secure way of life; once in Europe, they gave up those comforts where they would turn inward and cling to each other, and God, for reassurance of an unknown future.  I am convinced that a family that will sacrifice for a greater purpose than themselves will secure everlasting bonds that couldn’t be achieved otherwise.  This was the result for the Harris family— all because a young couple decided to be brave and go (Matthew 28:18-20).   

I admire people like the Harris’ and other missionaries, mainly for the sacrifices they make.  They sacrifice the pleasures and comforts of a normal life, which may include but not limited to, the luxuries of air conditioning, clean drinking water, hot showers, and the convenience and closeness of familial relations.  They forego a private life in their monies, and most of all, what we take for granted—the quietness of life.  They lay their life down only to yield it up for the greater purpose to serve others.  They live a life of needs, not wants, denying themselves the indulgences and pleasures of what most of us see as the American dream.  To me, the life of a missionary is poignant, defined, and centered—the most simple life— free from the distractions that so readily and easily strangle true joy.  And the most astounding wonder of all?  Missionaries, like the Harris’, choose this life of surrender, knowingly and willingly.   

I ask myself, what is it about the missionary and their stories that wet my appetite to hear more.  A heightened sense of gratification pours out of missionaries where worldly pleasures become “other,” obsolete and unnecessary; true freedom is found with less entanglements.  When one lives out a spiritual calling for God, what really matters comes to the surface, and all other cares and concerns ebb away.  It’s the essence of “less is more,” and it seems the happiest life.  

Like the Harris’, I carry my heart for missions in a similar way.  In my home, I have a small nook where I do my daily devotions.  It’s a refuge and hideaway for me.  My special spot holds the faces of people I’ve met in El Salvador and Costa Rica on mission trips.  The hyperbole that a picture is worth a thousand words speaks true.  Each stilled photograph captures a face containing a complexity of emotions: loss, concern, worry, contentment, growth, and hope.  Void of anything superficial, I continually peek into the photographs of their lives as a reminder of what’s most important in this life.  Like a mirror, their faces remind me of who I am and, more so, of what I long to be—an offering poured out for others and for my God.     

“Then God said, ‘Take your son, your only son, whom you love– Isaac– and go to the region of Moriah.  Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on the mountain I will show you.’” (Genesis 22:2, NIV)

I thought I was doing good by holding this one area in my life with open hands. Yes, that’s how I prayed about it too: Here, God.  It’s yours, not mine, so I bring it to you with open hands.  That prayer seemed to keep my anxious thoughts at bay for a little while, until it didn’t work anymore.  

While working the Freedom conference at my church this spring (2019), I was thankful to be on the intercessor team where I could pray, focus, and worship. Although I bathed the red team (prayer team) in prayer, God was doing His own work in my heart over a man I had fallen in love with, yet couldn’t find real rest about him or the relationship. We were two very different people, opposites in more ways than not; we had both been hurt badly in our past marriage and dating relationships. Instead of drawing on those things to strengthen our relationship, it inevitably seemed to be tearing us apart. We were both very leery of trusting one another. I felt I was at a crossroads with it all. I couldn’t go on like this anymore, and I felt he couldn’t either. Neither of us wanted to call it quits, so our relationship coasted on little to no communication.  The current state of the relationship was eating at me on the inside. My heart was broken.

As I circled the room in prayer, God spoke to me: You’ve kept your hands open with him, but you need to lay him down.  I was not expecting this word quite honestly.  I was hoping for a quick-fix answer, a solution to the current state of our relationship. I felt dismay. I could only understand God’s command in one way only: I needed to let him go by placing him, my heart for him, at the foot of the cross. Everything in my flesh cried out to clinch him in those opened hands and tell God, “No!”  But I knew there was no use in fighting God. I wouldn’t get what I wanted or rather what God wanted for me if I disobediently rebelled in the opposite direction of His instructions.

During lunch break on the last day of the conference, I opened up to a friend who was working the conference with me.  As I presented my case, she agreed that there seemed to be no use holding onto the relationship in its current state, one where God seemed to be speaking release.

The Freedom conference resumed after lunch, and the next topic presented was on despair and the feeling of hopelessness.  My friend, whom I had just shared my story, was sitting next to me. We looked at each other, knowing the message was as much for me as the participants of the conference.  As participants were called forth for prayer, my spirit did a nose dive, and my upper body burrowed into my friend’s arms. I poured my heart out to her this time without holding back any of my feelings.  The despair and hopelessness wasn’t just over the man I loved. I’d hit another dead end, something that felt like a common thread throughout my life in the past decade. Quite frankly, I was tired of it and expressed those feelings.  I was beyond frustrated. Tears streamed down my face while we both prayed over the situation. As my friend finished her prayer over me, she spoke to my clasped hope: “You will have to let it go, and I know it feels like there is no hope, but with Jesus, there is always hope.”  Her words brought a spirit-infused hope to my soul.

Her prayer and her words of encouragement sealed it.  Like a burnt offering, I had “sacrificed” him entirely on the altar– the whole: I laid him down.  I laid down my wanting heart– my strong, stubborn will to have him, and I laid down all my dreams of a future I had conjured up in my mind with him.  

Through the piercing pain of heartache, I was thankful I had met him.  I didn’t regret one moment with him. I didn’t even regret the pain of having to let him go. It was a test that would become a part of my testimony. Although I knew I loved him very much, I knew I loved Jesus more.  The sacrifice was a tribute to the God I love. Though it wasn’t easy, it was necessary.

I believe God is still writing this story.  He has shown me so much as I have continued to obey His word to let go of something my heart longed to control.  I believe this principle is at work here: “Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal” (John 12:24-25, MSG).

And that is the hope.  It’s the sacrifice, death, and resurrection of something that has to die so that something greater will be.     

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash