Nov 4th, 2016

Three years ago on this day, I sat on my living room couch in my snack-stained bathrobe and messy bedhead bun – on what should have been one of the happiest days of my life – only feeling confused and disappointed.

I remember thinking, this is not at all what I imagined this would be like. I thought I would feel…..different. I thought I would feel something at least.

Anything but the way I did.

It was launch day for my first book, Now What? A Story of Broken Dreams and the God Who Restores Them. This was the culmination of a six-year journey. The achievement of a dream I had held in my heart since the third grade. The pinnacle moment for the project I had poured every bit of myself into for the last four years.

And I felt nothing.

The night before, I had been up late waiting to push “publish” on the Amazon CreateSpace platform that would send my words to every corner of the globe with an internet connection.

As the second hand tipped over the minute line and the clock struck midnight, I pushed that button with great expectation – as if my whole world would magically transform in an instant. When a confirmation page loaded on the browser I thought, well that was anticlimactic.

I walked around in a daze that Friday.

My book launch party was still a week away; there was still plenty to do, so I threw myself into the last-minute details of that and convinced myself that on that day – surrounded by my closest friends and family, toasting lattes to my accomplishment – I would finally feel that mountaintop moment of arrival I was expecting.

But November 11^th came and went, and while I relished every moment of celebrating the milestone, surrounded by my biggest cheerleaders, nothing changed on the inside of me.

In fact, I plummeted so fast and so far south on my emotional rollercoaster, I felt more disenchantment than elation. Disillusionment than excitement.

I checked the sales report every morning for weeks – expecting to see numbers in the thousands. When it barely tipped over 60 copies in the first month, I was in a full-on depression.

What was happening?

If God really called me to write this book, and He opened all the doors for me to put it out in the world like He did, wouldn’t He also cause it to fly off the shelves?Wouldn’t He want as many copies in the hands of as many people as possible? Wouldn’t He want to make it a best-seller?

Did I hear Him wrong? Is this my fault? What’s wrong with me?

Then came the shame. Mountains and oceans of shame.

Shouldn’t Jesus be enough?

I mean, sure, those “lost” people out in the world deal with feeling unfulfilled, but not Christians, right?

I mean, I literally learned this lesson in junior high youth group: Every human on earth is walking around with a Jesus-sized hole inside them. Most people go around trying to fill it up with relationships, or sex, or drugs and alcohol. But once you “get saved” and “have Jesus”, all that goes away.

…Then why did I still have a hole?

What I have learned in the last three years is that achievement is empty. Achievement alone.

Even if it is the achievement of something good.

Even if it is something God called you to.

Even if it is in ministry.

Even if your heart is pure.

And no body prepared me for this.

No one ever told me that people inside the church – even inside ministry – can still feel emptiness in their souls.

I had enough foresight to see that if accomplishing the number one goal in my life made me feel this hollow, than any other goal I set from here would only result in the same cavernous hole. And I needed to do something about it.

So I set out on a journey. To wrestle with God about the ideas of success and accomplishment I held so deeply. To seek to understand the balance between expectation and contentment. Striving and satisfaction.

And it’s been great!

And scary. And fulfilling. And challenging. And burden-lifting. And freeing. And seemingly never-ending.

But, I’m starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel. I’m starting to grasp some firm answers and see through the fogginess to clarity.

It’s time to start talking about it. I’m excited to begin sharing this journey with you.

If you’ve ever been disappointed by a dream come true, I hope you’ll come along with me.

Dear 21 Year Old Self…

060107 129 Twelve years ago – on this very day (as Shutterfly so aptly reminded me) – I was saying “I do” for the first time in my life.

I was young, naïve, blissfully ignorant…. And so, so, so misinformed.

I meant the words I said with all of my 21-year-old heart, but I was ill-equipped to fulfill them.

I was short-tempered, self-righteous, and lacked any understanding of the word Grace whatsoever.

The bigger problem was my mountain of unrealistic expectations. I was expecting marriage to fulfill me. My husband to complete me. And thought we would live happily-ever-after day-after-day.

I read recently that, “Expectations are disappointments waiting to happen.”

I did not hide my disappointment in my first husband.

Soon, disappointment led to disenchantment. Then to disdain and disgust. Which eventually led to the most gut-wrenching D-word of all: Divorce. And that led to months and years of darkness and depression. 20190607_210309

But tonight, 12 years later, I’m sitting on my deck watching the sunset, listening to my husband chipping golfballs in our backyard. My life has been totally redeemed.

If I could go back and talk to the girl in this photo, I would explain that marriage is not so much about who you are married to, but how you are in the marriage.

This marriage is honestly not terribly different than the last.

My husband still does things that annoy me, sometimes forgets things, or breaks a promise… we disagree, argue and sometimes even shout at each other.

My marriage is imperfect. My husband is imperfect.

Unfortunately, it took my entire life falling apart to realize that so am I.

But the breaking of me made way for the best of me in its place.

A friend recently asked me if I knew what I knew now, could I have made my first marriage work? My answer was yes, but, I wouldn’t know what I know now had I not gone through my first marriage failing.

I had to be humbled. Today, I am patient and kind (on my good days!), but most of all, I am full of grace.

I know the last time my husband and I argued, will not be the last time we argue. I know the last time he broke a promise, will not be the last time he breaks a promise. Or the last time he hurt me will be the last time he hurts me.

But I have done those things too. And I will do them again. At times, I take him for granted, and often don’t speak to him in a polite tone.

I have a limitless supply of grace for him and he does for me.

I would tell the young girl in the white dress that grace – not love, as we were sold – is the most important part of making a marriage work.

There is an indescribable peace that comes with knowing that despite your imperfections – even at your ugliest, even when you don’t deserve it – the other person is never giving up on you.

This is exactly how Jesus love us.

And giving that peace to another human being is what walking out a lifetime of real love looks like.

The Most Important Thing I Learned About Marriage

In chapter 7 of Now What? A Story of Broken Dreams and the God Who Restores Them, I share everything I learned about marriage on my journey to my second wedding.

The 👉 most important 👈 thing is what I am posting below, which I recently re-wrote in a message to a friend who is in the throes of a crumbling marriage.

I have personally lived, and seen in other’s lives, the devastating effects of when we get this part wrong.

It looks like months of barely eating, or getting out of bed. It looks like darkness, shame, isolation, and utter hopelessness. It looks like running for comfort in someone else’s bed. And it looks like being willing to do anything imaginable to make the heartache stop – up to and including stopping your own heart.

So I am repeating these words again for whoever needs to hear and receive them:

👉We CANNOT put our hope in another human being to be everything we need.
It is impossible for them and inevitably we will be disappointed and end up broken-hearted. EVERY time.
It’s not even fair for us to expect someone else to complete us or make us whole.
That’s not what they were created for. 👈
That’s not how marriage is designed.
Only Jesus can truly fill that role of “soulmate”, friend. [And if you’re wondering what that means and what that looks like practically, please reach out to me, I have some resources to recommend.]

👉Our happiness cannot be dependent on whether or not our marriage works out, or if our spouse changes, or whether they stay or go. Other people are entirely out of our control.
And in this broken world, we hurt each other, even when we don’t mean to.

So you’ve got to set your mind ahead of time that Jesus will be enough, no matter what your spouse does or doesn’t do.

Have you ever found yourself basing your happiness – or even your survival – on another person’s actions/decisions? This doesn’t just happen in marriages, it can happen in any relationship.

Consider what pressure it would take off that person if you stopped doing that, and the freedom that would bring to you and your relationship.

Talk to God about it. Ask Him to show you what that would look like.

There’s No Such Thing As Annuals

My mom used to own and operate her own greenhouse. If having a green thumb is a thing, my mom is green head-to-toe – that woman can make anything grow anywhere!

Recently, while sitting on my deck looking at the shriveling petunias left over from our 4th of July party, I was saddened by the fact they were almost completely dead. Brown, dry, crisp. With only a hint of their former green life remaining. Not that I hadn’t been caring for them, but Petunias are annuals, which means they only bloom for one season, one year, and then they die. They will not regrow or bloom again next year, their little roots cannot survive the harsh winter in Ohio.

Even though they were practically dead already, I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. I imagined them sitting in the bottom of my dumpster feeling rejected and discarded even though they had done nothing wrong. (I’m a bit irrational when it comes to any living thing….ask my husband about it sometime)

But that got me thinking about why God would create something so beautiful, something that brings me (and others) so much joy, to just then wither up and die.

One voice in my head wants to tell me it’s because God isn’t really good or kind or loving. That He is cruel or indifferent.

But another voice, the One I’ve come to hear more often and more clearly, tells me that’s not true.

So, I start there. With the things I know about God that are true:

God is good and kind and loving, and creative.

He makes beautiful things because He enjoys it and He enjoys bringing joy to His children.

God also does not create any living thing that does not reproduce or regenerate itself.

With those facts I concluded, petunias, and therefore all annuals, must actually be man made, genetically altered, for them to die off on the winter.

I text my mom asking if that was the case.

But before she could respond, I had a follow up thought. “Or, is it that every plant is really a perennial (meaning it never dies and/or does come back every year) in the right climate?”

My mom’s response came as her typical short-hand over text, “yes, to the second”.

So it turns out, there is actually no such thing as annuals. They are just perennials planted in the wrong place.

There have been countless persons make an exhaustive number of spiritual metaphors regarding plants and planting. Jesus himself not excluded. (See Matthew 13)

And I don’t doubt at some point in your life – probably more than once – you’ve seen some motivational poster with a striking image of budding flora and the words “bloom where your planted” overlayed.

But still as I snapped this picture this morning and thought of that conversation with my mom, words and ideas started flowing.

I’ve always interpretted Jesus’s parable of the sower as just throw seed everywhere and see what sticks. And that poster communicated just do your part to flourish as much as you possibly can wherever God has you planted in the moment. And that certainly is true and valid.

But I’d never thought about making sure you are darn-well planting in the right place before you start trying to grow something! Otherwise, after one magnificent season full of vigorous and vibrant color you might just shrivel up and die! (Metaphorically speaking, of course)

And then I realized, I think that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

I think that’s a reality of what any of us are doing anytime we experience burnout in a given endeavor. We are trying to grow something somewhere in which God never created it to grow. We want to plant seeds where we want them to be planted, or just any place we can, without stopping to consider the cost of loss come end of season. So it may work for a season, but anytime we are working outside and against God’s intended design, we will ultimately shrivel back into the ground.

I wonder if it hurts God’s heart at all when we bring plants into climates where they can’t survive and then just dig them up and throw them out each year? (I have no idea if He gets as emotionally attached to inanimate objects as I do sometimes) but I can guarantee it hurts Him to watch us trying to force growth in our lives in the wrong territory.

I recommend before you start trying to grow something yourself, take a good look around and ask God if that’s the best place to try to plant a seed or develop roots.

Transplanting is hard. Landscapers literally use the word “trauma” to describe what happens to a plant that has been uprooted and planted somewhere new. But often, it’s what’s best for the health of the plant in the long run.

If where you are now you feel your petals are falling off and leaves are drying up, you might want to think of consulting the Master Gardener about a relocation to the plot he has picked out for you.

Apple Seeds and Deep Prejudices

In the Spring of 2016, I realized I am prejudice.

prejudice

noun prej·u·dice \ˈpre-jə-dəs\

: an irrational attitude of hostility directed against an individual, a group, a race, or their supposed characteristics

: an unfair feeling of dislike for a person or group because of race, sex, religion, etc.

: a feeling of like or dislike for someone or something especially when it is not reasonable or logical

All of these definitions fit my condition perfectly.

But my prejudices have nothing to do with skin color.

Home Sweet Home

While preparing a message to give at a ladies luncheon at small church in Southern Kentucky, I got stuck.

When I booked the event, I was told I could plan the theme. Immediately the word “refreshing” came to mind.

I wanted to get the audience brainstorming about their dreams and purpose in their life, to refresh their passion.

I decided to take the ladies through an exercise I had done myself a few years ago and wrote about in my book.

After pulling me out of the darkest pit of my life, God was teaching me how to dream again. He prompted me to make two lists: things I was passionate about, and things I was good at – natural talents and abilities I possessed. When I did this I began to see correlations. I began to see purpose. I started to get a clear picture of what God put me here on earth for.

With the two lists side-by-side, I saw how He had planted specific passions in my heart, and gave me the corresponding skill-sets to go after them. Refreshing, right?

But leading up to the event, I wondered if that exercise had only been refreshing to me. What if no one else found it as revelatory? I thought I knew the direction I wanted to take the day, but every time I sat down to type or research, I just felt….. blah.

In discussing ideas with the event coordinator (my mom), I asked her what she thought about it, if she thought a Purpose-Finding exercise would be interesting and applicable to the rest of the audience.

See, this wasn’t an audience of my peers; other thirty-somethings in the midst of a quarter-life crisis, trying to identify which path to take. This was going to be a room full of women who doubled my age; women who, many of them, had already lived full lives. Did they even want or need to be refreshed?!

But my mom’s response was encouraging to me. She said, “I think that’s a great idea. Because where I am now is, ‘Ok God, I’ve lived this whole life, and I’ve raised my children, and had careers, and I’ve had my own businesses, and I’ve already done all these things, but I’m still here.’ – And, I don’t know how much longer I have – it could be one more day or forty more years- but…. ‘Now What? [she giggled at her clever use of my book title] What am I supposed to do next? What am I still here for?’” And then she ended with, “I kind of feel I’ve outlived my usefulness, like I’m all used up.”

…I can’t express what it felt like to hear those heartbreaking words come out of my mom’s mouth. But I was hopeful because I had a solution, I had some insight for what to do in a “Now What?” moment like that.

And here’s what I know: if my mom felt that way, she wasn’t going to be the only woman in that room who did. So it was settled; I would walk through that exercise with them and plan my talk accordingly.

But nothing changed for me internally. I still felt so unmotivated.

Usually, once I get a clear inspiration for a talk, I can’t put it down and I absolutely cannot wait to deliver it! I get excited about the life change that God wants to bring with my words and joyfully overwhelmed at the honor that I get to be a part of it.

This was entirely not the case this time. I was utterly dreading this event.

The closer it got, the less excited I felt.

I made sure to check off every other thing on my daily to-do list and continued to put off finalizing the talk until it was the week of the event.

I sat down and reviewed the outline I had prepared and then contemplated scrapping the whole thing and starting from scratch.

I worried I had missed God’s leading altogether and was only focused on what I wanted to accomplish that day.

I sat my notes aside and picked up my prayer journal. I began to ask God if I had missed Him entirely. I told Him I was happy to throw out my talk and give the one He wanted.

But when I picked up my notes and read through again them I thought, this is really good stuff. So why am I still so drained and debilitated at the thought of giving this talk?

Within an hour of penning those words in my journal, I found myself on the phone with my high school cheerleading coach. It had been about three years since we last spoke.

While we talked I told her, “Hey, by the way, since the last time we were together, I wrote a book and I started speaking publicly.”

“WOW! Look at you!” She said, congratulating me and expressing her pride.

“Yes, it’s exciting…but it’s also a lot,” I replied, “Since I’m still working full time, it’s a lot on my plate and it’s overwhelming at times. BUT, the cool part is, I know it’s exactly what God is calling me to, and I know it is literally what I was created for.”

And I swear to you, her exact response to me was: “Isn’t that refreshing?”

She went on, “I don’t even know if that’s the right word, but I remember that point in my life, when I realized teaching was for me; that teaching is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing in life. Everything just clicked.”

I couldn’t even tell her how ironic her words were, but I was laughing.

Ok, I hear your confirmation, God, this is the talk I’m supposed to give. But YOU are going to have to give me the passion for it.

It’s Not About Me

Many times before a talk I start to feel nervous or uneasy as I prepare. I worry about delivering just the right message in just the right way. I get pretty worked up questioning if I’m qualified enough and if I have enough value to bring to the audience.

And every time, God reminds me that it’s not about me.

He has opened the door and given me this opportunity and as long as I get out of His way and let Him, He will show up and speak through me. It’s not about me, it’s about the audience and what He has in store for them.

As soon as I take my eyes off myself, my own insecurities, and focus on the audience, what they are going through and what they are going to get out of it – and remember that God is doing all the talking anyway – all of that uneasiness goes away.

With that in mind, I sat down with my prayer journal once more. It was the day before the talk.

I asked God to give me His eyes and His heart for these people. To show me what He sees when He looks at them, so I can feel what He feels and know the right words to give them.

I was immediately blindsided by a fierce conviction: I don’t believe in these people at all. (Insert big eyes emoji)

These are small-town church people living in small-town Kentucky, I thought, Even if God did have big dreams for them, would they even go after them?

It occurred to me I have always seen “these people” as a sub-class. Entirely unambitious. “Poor, dumb and happy.” Oblivious to the fact they are throwing their lives away by staying confined to small towns and small sanctuaries. I seethed with judgement against them for not dreaming bigger. Thinking bigger. For not wanting to “get out” and “move on” like I did. I believed they really couldn’t do anything of significance if they stayed where they were.

I was convicted. Oh no! I am prejudice!

Against small-town people.

And, against traditional “church” people.

In my book, Now What? A Story of Broken Dreams and the God Who Restores Them I recount the months after my divorce when I was angry and bitter at God. I ran away from Him and from all things church and religion – I didn’t want anything to do with any of it. I had followed their rulebook and God’s gameplan and my life didn’t turn out like I had been promised.

Additionally, recollections of the shaming and shunning of people who had fallen short during my childhood church experience replayed in my head as I imagined I, too, was being judged and condemned by these people during the lowest point in my life.

A few years after my divorce, I found a safe place in the welcoming arms and atmosphere of a self-admitted “church for people who have given up on church but not on God.” And it was unlike any experience I ever had to that point. But, even after all the healing and restoration God has brought into my life, I was caught off guard by the fact I still assumed and thought the worst of the “traditional church people”.

I was absolutely prejudice against them.

I had an “irrational attitude of hostility directed against an individual, a group, a race, or their supposed characteristics” just like the dictionary described.

And I was wrong.

For both of these prejudices.

God immediately opened my eyes to see these people weren’t any different than anyone else He’s created.

We are all equally flawed. And most of all, equally loved by Him.

Of course He has a plan and a purpose for their lives.

Of course they could be effectively and impactfully used by Him.

Of course they could dream big dreams and do big things, even from their small towns.

Of course He believed in them.

And of course He expected me to believe in them too.

It wasn’t my talk that was off, it was me that was off! Ouch.

My heart was completely wrong toward these people.

And I had some serious repenting to do.

Apple Seeds

After my revelation (and repentance), I was on the phone with my speaking mentor, recounting the experience to him.

He quipped, “It’s good that you figured that out now. If you had gone in there tomorrow with the same attitude you had toward those people today, you would have felt it and they would have felt it and it would have not been effective.”

He went on to tell me a very wise reminder, one he said he has to constantly remind himself of over and over:

“When you walk into a room to speak to a group of 100 people,” he began, “How many people’s lives do you have the opportunity to impact that day? …..100, right? That math works. The answer is 100, right?”

“Right,” I agreed.

“But that’s the wrong answer.”

Jeff is the master of trick questions that make you feel like you’re brilliant in one instant and rubbish the next, but they get your wheels turning and the lessons stick long-after the conversation.

“When you walk into a room of 100 people,” He said, “The number of lives you have the opportunity and ability to impact that day is infinity. It’s limitless.”

Seemingly changing subjects he pondered an ancient riddle, “How many seeds are in an apple? 10, 12, 15? …But how many apples are in a seed? An unlimited number, right?

…Because an apple seed becomes a tree, which produces hundreds of apples each year, which all contain seeds, that all contain more trees.

…So it’s the same when you walk into that room of 100,” He asserted, “Because those people know people who aren’t in that room, and they know other people, and those people know other people and so on. And those people are going to have kids one day,” He paused, if only for a millisecond, “When you and I walk into a room to speak, we literally have the ability to impact generations of people who aren’t even born yet!

So just think about that for a minute…. If even just one of those 60 year-old, grey-haired, small-town Kentucky women grabs hold of a dream and a vision you share with them on Saturday – and does something with it – she could impact the lives of people who aren’t even born.”

After that phone call, I was electric! My belief in these women and their futures was raised exponentially!

And that’s exactly what I told them from stage that next day!

After pouring myself out for them that afternoon, there were several women who came up to me afterward and told me they really were leaving refreshed. So my mission was indeed successful.

But more than that, I planted some apple trees that day. And I am eager to see the bountiful harvest that comes out of small sanctuary in that small town in southern Kentucky.

Two Weeks Ago, I Googled Myself

When the devil whispers a lie to you, it’s not random. It’s intentional. Deliberate.
It’s the exact opposite of the Truth. The specific Truth he is trying to discredit in your life.
It gives you a little insight into his playbook.

Two weeks ago, I googled myself.

It wasn’t out of arrogance, I promise, rather shear curiosity. Barry (my husband) and I were driving around town when he told me about a DJ friend of his from college, “He moved to L.A. and is like a real life, big time DJ. You can google him!”

So naturally I thought, I wonder what happens when you google “Author Rachel Dawn”? So I did. To my surprise, the results were stacked! Google returned my bio, my author page on amazon, my tv interview, youtube clips, my website, my blog… like I was a real life, big time author!

Then it occurred to me that google results are tailored to individuals based on their search and web history, I told myself, this has to be biased. So I tried it from Barry’s phone and asked 3 or 4 of my closest friends to google me and screenshot their results. They all had virtually the same content I saw, but in a different order; some looked more impressive than others.

Later that night, in a back-and-forth text exchange with my sister I told her my results had been “crazy” and made me look “totally legit”. To which she simply replied, “You are legit.”

And then I bawled my eyes out at 1:30 in the morning as I typed out a page long reply to her.

You see, what I feel is the furthest thing from legit.

Some days, I feel like a total fraud.

There’s actually a term for this, it’s called Imposter Syndrome.

Wikipedia defines imposter syndrome as: a psychological pattern in which an individual doubts their accomplishments, and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a “fraud”.

And a Fast Company article states: The phenomenon reflects a belief that you’re an inadequate and incompetent failure, despite evidence that indicates you’re skilled and quite successful.

Just two days earlier, while in for my weekly appointment, my book came up in discussion with my chiropractor for the first time. Like any genuinely interested person, he asked a few questions, and then came the one question I had been praying wouldn’t come of his mouth, “Are sales going well?”

You guys… It.got.so.weird.

All my confidence was sucked right out from inside me. Immediately my shoulders drooped and I couldn’t look him in the eye. I was so self-conscious thinking about the number of copies sold in my head. My voice trailed off as I rambled on about how reality had not lived up to my expectations for numbers blah blah blah… and I changed the subject as quickly as possible.

I was most embarrassed at my own reaction.

And when that text from my sister came in, the realization of why I felt that way hit me.

I wrote to her: I don’t know when it’s supposed to feel like you “made it” in this [book] world, this segment. But lately I’ve noticed my confidence has been lacking and I think it’s because I feel like I’m just failing. Like I should be way further along. The further away I get from my release date, the more of a failure I feel. But I don’t even know at what point I would stop feeling that. This is the first time I’ve even been able to put those thoughts together in words.

Maybe you have felt like this before? You thought with this degree or that job, you’d be making more money. At this company, you’d be further up the ranks. By this age or with all the work you’ve put in, you’d have more, be more, feel more satisfied…

Compound that with social media feeds parading in front of you the people who started at the same place at the same time, but appear further along and totally fine. Ugh.

She responded with precisely the words I needed to hear, but still struggled to believe:

You know those are lies being whispered to you. You’re successful because of the lives you’ve touched, not the number of books sold. I’m sure you would have written that book just to help a single person, but instead, you’ve helped hundreds…so far, and more to come.

Not many people can say that.

You’re one of the most confident people I know, don’t let the devil steal that God-given trait from you. Maybe the plan is to kill, steal and destroy your confidence so that you won’t keep going, so that you won’t write another book?!

You’re only 33 and you wrote and have published a book. That’s successful.

Everything I’ve ever been taught about success is to set tangible, concrete goals. It’s not enough to just want to “write a book”, you have to set a deadline, and concrete numbers for sales, so you can measure your accomplishment. But so far, that method had only served to send me on an emotional rollercoaster in this endeavor. My expectation was to have sold this many copies during launch week, not almost 2 years later.

I prayed to God that night: tell me what I should be believing for. Should I have a goal with a number attached to it? Or not? Why was this bothering me so much? I asked Him to reveal the depth of what was really going on.

At Least I’m Not Alone

Over the next few days as I marinated on the exchange, I was reminded of a story I heard at the She Speaks conference in 2016. During a workshop titled, Marketing Do-Over: Secrets I Wish I Had Known, Before My First Book Launched, Courtney DeFeo recounted a similar meltdown.

Some time after her book launched, Courtney called her mentor (Lysa Terkeurst) crying hysterically about the [lack of] number of copies she had sold. She expected it to be many more by then. She expected to be further along. And she felt like everything she had done had been wasted effort. She questioned if she really supposed to do this? She wanted to give up. Then, they had this exchange:

Lysa calmly asked her, “Did God ask you to write the book?”

“Yes.”

“Are people being impacted?”

What?

“Do you get letters/emails from people telling you how your book is impacting them?”

“Well, yes.”

“That’s all that matters. Numbers are not the key indicators of your success. Changed lives are.”

I was thankful to have heard that story even before I needed it so I knew I wasn’t alone. But that still didn’t mean I knew how to stop feeling this way or what to do with these feelings.

Subterfuge

What shocked me the most about my early morning meltdown was the fact that I hadn’t realized it was happening.

“Subterfuge” was the word I kept picturing in my imagination. If our minds are the battlefield of our lives (and I believe they are), the enemy had been playing a long, slow game of Guerilla Warfare to which I had been utterly oblivious. I wondered just how long those thoughts had been planted, germinated, and able to take root?

A few days later I was retelling the 1:30-am-text-exchange-breakdown-story to my friend

When the Devil(1)

TaLarrya and in the way that only she can, she listened and then responded, “Ok, so you know that is a lie. So, what truth is the enemy trying to shake your confidence in, that God wants to affirm in you? The two are probably related.”

I’m thankful for friends I can be totally vulnerable with, who can speak Truth back to me in exactly the way I need it.

In that moment, it was like the enemy’s playbook was thrown open in front of my eyes.

When she walked away, I took out my phone and jotted a quick note for myself: What’s the opposite of failure, of “I should be further along than I am right now.”?

I believe there are still many truths God will continue to whisper to me about this, but right away what I heard was, I’m exactly where God wants me, right now.

For reasons beyond my comprehension, I’m supposed to be in this exact this place, at this stage, for this moment, in this season, with this number of books sold.

I don’t know what all of His plans for my future as an author and public speaker look like, how high He will elevate me, what reach and impact He will allow me to have, but He has promised that He does:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

My job is to rest in the trusting of that truth. And to do the next thing He puts in front of me.

Resting & Trusting keep popping up as recurring themes in my life this year…looks like I still have a lot to learn about them both.

Jesus with Skin on

Earlier this Spring, my husband took a group of high school guys to an event our church coordinates called “MAN CAMP“. He left Friday morning before I woke up, so when I came into the kitchen to fix myself breakfast, I found a note waiting for me.

It started with “Morning Rach! A few things…” and I felt myself bristle. I expected it to be a list of things he wanted me to do/take care of while he was gone.

Because that’s the kind of note I would have left him.

In fact, I had been leaving him lots of notes like that lately, because in my opinion, he had been increasingly pulling less and less of his weight around the house, leaving things undone that I had to pick up the slack on, or remind him about for the 400th time. I constantly noticed things he was not doing more than the things he was, and found myself brewing about broken promises and bad habits – past or present – with increasing frequency.

He would be the first to tell you, not all of my thoughts and feelings were unmerited. But, they were taking over the driver’s seat of my mind and the climate of our marriage.

If I’m being totally honest, I have actually been quite an A-hole to my husband as of late. My tone with him is sharp, bitter, and often cutting, even when I don’t intend for it to be.

And, what I let come out of my mouth pales in comparison to the thoughts that have been occupying my mind more often than not.

I’ve found myself feeling disgusted, bordering on contempt. Even though I don’t want to feel this way.

But as I read through the rest of his note, instead of to-do’s, it was a bulleted list of a love letter:

I love you unconditionally with all my heart.
I hope you are feeling much better this morning.
I appreciate you.
I miss you already.
Enjoy your weekend with the girls.
Thanks for being you. For your joyful spirit, youthful zest for life, infectious laughter (it makes me smile to hear you laugh), your heart for God that is full of all the loves, your grace and kindness, and for choosing me to live life with.

As tears filled my eyes, my gut twisted with guilt and I thought:

how on earth can he still think these things about me?

This is the guy who sees me at my worst. At my most disgusting, my least people-skilled. I have been wretched to him at times.

Then I thought, if he even remotely had a glimpse inside my thoughts about him lately, there’s no way he would have written these things.

And suddenly, I was awash with the revelation of Jesus’ love and grace – all over again.

He whispered in my heart, I know about ALL your thoughts, and I still love you like that.

My husband, in that moment, was a very real Jesus-with-skin-on to me.

Have you ever heard that term? I remember when a friend of mine told me her husband had been Jesus-with-skin-on to her early in their dating, while she was still recovering from her divorce and struggling to trust again. It was such a clear picture of behavior, and the image stuck in my brain. But I don’t think I had ever experienced it so evidently in my own life until the very moment I was holding that note.

Have you ever experienced that type of love?

That same week, I started a new devotional by Mark & Jill Savage called “10 Days to a Better Marriage” (it’s an excerpt from their book, “No More Perfect Marriages“). And Day 5 slapped me right in the face that weekend as the authors wrote about using the “tool of the Grace Space” with your spouse. Read what I did:

Grace is a free gift from God. Because of Jesus, we deserve punishment but we get mercy instead. It’s an upside-down response to what we deserve. God gives us grace because of who He is. We don’t earn it. We don’t even deserve it.

…Grace Space happens when we allow another person to be human, to make mistakes, to be imperfect and to have their own indiosyncrasies.

Grace is a first cousin of forgiveness. We use this tool when dealing with the harmless habits that bug us but don’t really hurt us. Like coffee [stains]. Or leaving the lights on. Or leaving the toilet seat up. Or when our spouse does things differently than we would.

When thinking through whether something needs forgiveness or grace, ask yourself these two questions:

Does this hurt me or just irritate me?
Does this need to be corrected or simply accepted as part of being married to an imperfect person?

Grace is a beautiful gift to give our spouse, especially if he/she is aware of places where he/she falls short or has bad habits. Grace replaces criticism. Even if he/she isn’t aware of their shortcomings, you can use your tool of grace.

Next time you’re tempted to criticize, stop and pull grace out of your marriage toolbox. Ask yourself if this is an offense or an irritation. If it’s an offense, offer forgiveness before you address it, and if it’s simply bumping into your spouses human limitations [or imperfections], offer grace.

Ouch.

I had been doing the exact opposite of all of this. I was letting myself get offended over immaterial irritations. That certainly was a wake-up call.

I had forgotten the things I already learned – and even written about in my own book! I felt like a total hypocrite.

I had let myself get to a place where I was letting Barry’s actions – or inactions – affect my mood and determine my behavior, instead of giving him the benefit of the doubt and extending grace for his shortcomings.

I felt shameful for getting this so wrong, while my husband was obviously walking this out so well for me.

But, I was so glad for the revelation and reminders.

Our next date night, I brought up his note, and the things I had been learning. I apologized for being focused on the wrong things and let him know how he had shown Jesus to me. He told me he knew what had been inside my head, as I wasn’t very good at hiding it on my face. There was a lot of crying. And freedom. And a sense of cleansing and refreshing.

Have I totally fixed my thoughts since then? No. Have I gotten better and do I catch myself going down that road quicker? Yes.

It is, and will continue to be a process. A daily decision to pull out my God-tool of Grace, rather than giving Barry the reaction he “deserves” from me. I don’t deserve the amount of patience I get from God (or my husband), as I figure all this marriage stuff out, but I have an endless supply. And so do you.

“No marriage crumbles in a day. It’s a drift of one centimeter to another, one feeling or one decision that leads to another feeling or decision that’s a little off-center.
If left unaddressed, those things will draw us away from each other instead of toward each other, creating a fade of feelings.” – Mark & Jill Savage

Would All the Real Martha’s Please Stand Up?

martha cover My friend Katie Reid just finished her book, “Made Like Martha: Good News for the Woman Who Gets Things Done” and invited me to be on the launch team. I eagerly jumped at the chance – not just to help create buzz for my friend and her release in July, but a little selfishly, because the book sounds like it was written just for me.

There’s a story in the Bible, in the book of Luke, about two women, sisters – one’s named Mary and one is Martha – who have an encounter with Jesus. Martha invites him to their house for dinner, but spends the whole time doing things for her guest, while Mary shirks the work and just sits with their guest, enjoying his company. In the story, Mary is clearly heralded as the “good sister” while Martha is recorded as having her priorities out of order.

Ouch.

Here’s the problem: I’m Martha.

Double ouch.

In fact, if I had written the book, I would have subtitled it, “Good News for the Woman Who Handles Sh*t”, but Katie is a better Christian than I am. 😊

Indeed, those words have come out of my mouth more than once. Around Christmastime, I verbatim told my husband, during a tiff about dinner reservations, “I don’t want to be the one who always has to handle sh*t!!” in a moment of vulnerability and irritation.

“Has to handle” is a subjective term, of course. As the reason I’m usually “handling things” on my own is because I arrogantly feel no one will handle them better than me, or it’s more hassle to have to explain it or wait on someone else to do it, so I just do it myself.

Plus, getting sh*t done – especially good things, like things for God and for my purpose – makes me feel really, really good about myself. It’s how I measure my days and weeks and months as successes or failures. If I don’t do all the things God put me here on earth to do while I’m here, then what was even the point? Amiright?

->Please tell me I’m not alone in all of these things I’m saying out loud? <-

Over the last year, God has taken me on quite a journey of learning to let Him handle things, instead of handling them myself.

Which, turns out, is a matter of Trust, or lack thereof, in my case. Which is not something I realized I had a problem with.

That is, until He was asking me to let Him handle things I really wanted to handle on my own. Things I knew I could handle well. Better than anyone.

Even Him.

Yowza.

I didn’t say that out loud. But my actions, and my reluctance to relinquish control, were only shouting that message to Him.

I have found I’m really good at putting something in God’s hands to handle until the next time it comes to mind and then I’m like, yeah God, let me go ahead and have that back, mmkthanks.

I haven’t breached the first chapter of the book yet, but I am hoping it is going to give me permission to live in my strengths as a Martha and feel justified in doing so. But I have a sneaking suspicion it’s going to echo all the things God has been whispering into my heart and my life over the last twelve months:

“Stop.

Stop Trying.

Striving.

Pushing.

Figuring.

Planning.

Doing.

Controlling.

Handling.

….And Rest.

Trust.

Relax.

Sit Still.

Just be.

And let Me handle it.”

I’m sure I’ll be highlighting, sharing, snapping, posting and instagramming all the words as I make my way through it. I hope you’ll stay with me on this journey as I do. Maybe you and I both will learn a thing or two about who we were created to be.

martha story

You can also get more info and pre-order Katie’s book HERE.
#madelikemartha

Catch Me Up: Permission to Be Imperfect

You know what my favorite feature in the Bible App is?

It’s the “catch me up” button.

Screenshot_20180303-174308

When I open the app and see I’m 5 days behind on a reading plan, it can be really discouraging. It’s easy for me to start spiraling into shame and guilt. I start to feel like I’m not doing enough spiritually, like I’m not a “good enough” Christian.

And that can pretty quickly snowball into to overwhelm. I start thinking about all the things in my life I’m behind on, that I’m not doing “well enough” in.

But one tap of the gear icon and “catch me up” shifts the dates of the plan forward so suddenly I’m back on track.

It sounds silly, but I instantly feel lighter!

I used to think using that feature would be like cheating. I wanted a visual reminder that I wasn’t being diligent enough in my quiet time and needed to step up my habit.

But I think I’ve realized that was the spirit of legalism and religion talking – wanting to keep me in bondage. See, religion is oppressive…. It’s like slavery.

And that’s exactly what Jesus came to set me free from.

Let me explain:

2000 years ago when Jesus of Nazareth walked the earth, anyone who was following God at the time was doing it under the strict religious code called the “Jewish Law”. There were rules about literally EVERYTHING: what they could eat, what they could wear, where they could go, who they could hang out with… Even when and where they could pray, how often they should do it, how long they should feel bad for doing something wrong and how to make up for a mistake (with sacrifices or other punishments).

Their entire experience with God was militant and regimented; there was nothing personal or intimate or fluid about it at all.

(I lived that type of religious experience for most of my life.)

But as Jesus traveled and talked to crowds and close friends, He talked about a new way to live. He told people they were free to be free from those rules and regulations, and free to just be in relationship with His Father – without all the rigmarole.

In fact, the first Christians weren’t a part of what is known as Christianity today, their lifestyle practice was simply referred to as “The Way”.

It was a completely counter-cultural way of living. Literally the exact opposite of what the religious leaders of that day were teaching people.

I’ve been studying the letters that Saul of Tarsus, later renamed the Apostle Paul, wrote to the early church. I am finding it fascinating how he warned these people – even then – about reverting back to their religious customs. The rules and laws that are all about making you feel you are “doing good”.

In several letters, he writes about not continuing to do things for the sake of tradition or edict. But to be led by the Spirit instead. He explains that the Spirit was a gift Jesus left behind for us, so that we could be free from the old laws.

“It is for freedom that Christ set us free. Stand firm then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by the yoke of slavery.” – Gal 5:1

Paul gives examples from his own life; how he is free to do things which would be considered against the religious law (like eat certain kinds of foods) because he is now free from those restrictions.

The crux of the issue is this: as long as we feel we are doing all the right things and following the rules, we don’t need saving, we don’t need God. We are doing things for Him, but not doing life with Him, which is what He really wants.

But, when we live being led by His Spirit in what we should do, and how we should live, that creates a daily dependence in us. Quickly we realize, if left to ourselves, we would do all the wrong things (and sometimes we still do anyway), and that we are in desperate need of saving.

And here’s the thing, the religious law says, you must read your Bible (devo) every day, and when you miss a day, shame on you. Now, go wallow around feeling pitiful and worthless and filthy. You’re not a good person, and it’s better for other people for you not to be around them.

But The Way says, just hit the “catch me up” button. Forget about what you did or didn’t do yesterday. Today is a new day, let’s walk forward together.

And if you mess up again tomorrow, the catch me up button is waiting for you the day after that. 🙂

You know in the app there’s no limit to how many times you can use that button?

It has taken me 4 months to get through a 40 day plan before.

And that’s totally ok.

Jesus gave me permission to stop beating myself up for it. He is giving you the same permission today.

Stop trying to earn what He literally died to give you. Freedom from guilt, shame and bondage is ours for the taking. And sometimes, it’s hiding right under the gear icon on our smartphones!

Check out what else Paul said:
“This same Good News that came to you is going out all over the world. It is bearing fruit everywhere by changing lives, just as it changed your lives from the day you first heard and understood the truth about God’s wonderful grace.” Colossians 1:6 NLT
Translation: Tell your friends!

Ps, If you’re not already using the YouVersion Bible App on your phone, what are you waiting for?! It’s incredible!

Here are some of my favorite plans:
God’s Dream for Your Life, Rick Warren
The Invisible War, Rick Warren
Relaxing With God, Andrew Farley
Starting Your Day Right, Joyce Meyer
One: A Marriage Devotional, Jimmy Evans
From this Day Forward, Craig & Amy Groeschel
Crash the Chatterbox, Steve Furtick
Visioneering, Andy Stanley
The Lies Couples Believe, Chris Thurman
Hearing from God Each Morning, Joyce Meyer
The Lies We Believe About God, Chris Thurman
Goliath Must Fall, Louie Giglio
Marriage Is Hard, Time of Grace Ministries
Fighting for My Marriage, XXX Church

Are You There God? It’s Me Rachel

“Tell them to go home and flourish in their planting, in the place where I have planted them, and if they do, they’ll change the world.” – Bobbie Houston

It was a sweltering Friday in July, but I was inside. I was sitting just outside of a hotel meeting room door anxiously waiting for my name to be called.

It was my first writer’s conference and I had scored one of the few, coveted appointment slots with a publisher; during which I would pitch my book in hopes they would offer me a contract.

I sat quietly, legs crossed at the ankles, my hands in my lap resting on top of the three ring binder that held the hole-punched pages of my lifelong dream.

Months leading up to this pinnacle moment, God and I had gone round and round in conversation about whether or not I would self-publish or traditionally publish my manuscript. I was fine with either, of course, I just needed to know which route to take. After all, this was His project and I was just along for the ride.

Once I secured one of the publisher appointments, I thought that was God’s unquestionable confirmation that I was going to traditionally publish. He had opened the door and was making a way.

I started to gather my things when I heard my name but then came another voice, “Rachel? …From Cincinnati?”

I answered yes.

A petite, middle-aged brunette from Oklahoma stood beside me, with an expectant smile and a fire in her eyes, “I need to talk to you,” she said, “I’ve been looking for you all day. I knew I was going to run into you! Let’s talk after your appointment.”

I went into my appointment puzzled and intrigued, trying to figure out how this person could know about me. I concluded that she must have seen me speak somewhere and put two and two together.

But any thoughts about the interaction quickly left my mind as I sat down across the table from this bearer of life-changing conversation.

The publishing agent and I exchanged formalities and cards. I talked, she asked questions, I talked some more. I was prepared to hand her copies of my book proposal and one-pager like I had been instructed to do (and spent days of hours preparing).

And then she proceeded to tell me that there was no need, they would not be moving forward in publishing my book, because….well, I didn’t need them.

“Everything we would do for you, you have already done and invested in for yourself,” She said, “You have the gumption to go out and do all these things and make it happen. Most authors don’t. And that’s where we come into play. So, you don’t need us.”

While that certainly wasn’t what I was expecting to hear, it was oddly flattering. But I left the room more confused than ever, God, why would you set up this appointment for me if this wasn’t how you were planning to get my book into the world?

I was about to find out exactly why.

Upon reentering the corridor, my new friend was waiting for me. We found a quiet corner to chat and she proceeded to blow my mind with the crazy goodness of God.

The night before she had gone into the prayer room that the conference staff had set up and found a piece of paper rolled up with a prayer written by, “Rachel in Cincinnati.”

I also visited the prayer room that day. I had just walked out of a pre-conference session on marketing and my head was swimming thinking about branding and logos and taglines and email lists (UGH! Email lists!! I can’t stand being on them, the last thing I wanted to do was start one!). I darted straight into that quiet, candle-lit space and spent my time on the floor, bawling my eyes out, talking to God about all the things that were overwhelming me.

I was trying to get my book out, but being told I needed to be growing a speaking platform to be successful. I felt like I had too much on my plate already and here He was, trying to add more. I felt like I didn’t have time for everything, or anything. I felt like I was already neglecting Barry enough. In short, I hadn’t even started on the path He was calling me to and I already felt overwhelmed just looking at it!

As per the instructions, I left my prayer scroll in a basket from which the conference staff, or other attendees, could find and pray over/in agreement with.

Turns out, Gwen, this lady preacher from the Great Plains I was sitting across from, was the person who picked up my prayer. And as she was reading, God spoke to her very clearly about me; He told her something He wanted me to know. So she was confident He would arrange that the two of us would somehow run into each other. In this group of 800 women. In the next 48 hours before the conference ended.

As if the odds of that weren’t fantastic enough?!

She explained how she had come to the conference out of obedience to a prompting, and while she was enjoying it well enough, she felt like it wasn’t really for her. Once she read my prayer, she knew she was specifically there in North Carolina on a mission from God, for me.

…how do you respond to that other than weeping?

Understand, I was just coming out of a very long season wherein I felt God had been silent. (I blogged about it several times) I was just learning to hear from Him by reading His Word, but not audibly, or directly or as clearly as I used to. My unspoken attitude in my prayers had become, “Are you there God? It’s me Rachel.”

But this day, His voice was unmistakable; Here is what God said to me (through her):

“…You don’t have to work or stress or strain or worry about any of these things. I will open the doors for you. I will put you in the places I want you to speak. I will take care of everything else. Just go back to the last thing I told you to do.”

So she asked me, “What was the last thing God told you to do?”

“Tell my story. Write it down.”

“Then you get your book out. God will handle the rest. God will continue to bring people and resources you need to get it done, to get it out, like He already has been doing.

And don’t feel any guilt for walking away from, saying ‘no’ to, or ignoring all those other things you’re being told you ‘need’ to do.”

I honestly don’t remember if she also said the rest of this stuff I have written down, or if God just continued the conversation with me once I got alone by myself and my prayer journal:

“God will make all the connections you need and get you in all the doors you need without having to force anything.

Rest in His sweet reassurance of that.

Rest in His Power.

It’s His project. It’s His idea.”

And boy did He ever deliver on those promises!

God was the most incredible Chief Marketing Officer I could have ever hired to launch a book, and He is still putting in hours today.

It’s utterly absurd that I’ve been on radio and TV – an unknown, first-time author from small-town Kentucky?! Are you kidding me?

ONLY GOD could have opened those doors to me, only God can give me the favor of the decision makers and influencers in media outlets.

ONLY GOD could have arranged for industry experts to offer to help me with designs and websites and logos – FOR FREE.

ONLY GOD could have sent a little woman 1,200 miles to a room at a conference to pick up a scroll and obediently relay the Words He gave her for a complete stranger.

There are so many other small nuances and serendipities that He orchestrated in that season. It was marvelous and exhilarating to be a part of!

And it all happened one obedient step at a time. I just kept doing the next thing He was asking me to do, forgetting about the ten other things I might have to do in the future. And He took care of everything else.

The next time you wonder if He’s listening, if He cares, if He still works in real and tangible ways in our lives, on this earth today, remember this story and be encouraged. He is, He does. And He’s waiting to work in your life as soon as you ask!

This Sunday night, I’ll be telling ANOTHER story about a time I felt God was ignoring me for a whole year. I would love for you to join me as I stream LIVE in Facebook. Sunday, Aug 27th at 8pm. www.Facebook.com/RachelDawnWrites