It’s Got to Be Like Planning a Party, Right?

Confetti, Hope and 3/16

My mom plopped down across from me in the nursery looking hurried and determined as she readied to leave my house. She and my Dad had stayed with us three of the four weeks since my son was born, but today they were rushing back home. It had been less than 12 hours since the phone call that changed our lives. They were trying to beat the news back to my Grandmother – my Memaw – so she could hear about the death of her only grandson from them instead of Channel 12.

They didn’t make it, by the way. The story broke before they could drive the three hours to their house in Southern Kentucky.

“I don’t want a funeral, I want a celebration of life,” She said, “And I want you to do it.”

“Oh! Ok.” I responded, not knowing what else to say, but certain I would do whatever she needed of me in that moment. I had never planned or preached a funeral before, but I had done plenty of public speaking and I reasoned, it’s got to be like planning a party, right? “I’ll figure it out.”

My sister-in-law, Susie, said I was in survival mode. The way I didn’t react at all and could just go about normal duties like my entire world hadn’t just been flipped upside down.

Turns out, it happens often after the loss of a loved one. A normal part of grief. Your mind isn’t able to process the traumatic event, so it shifts into hyper-efficiency as you plan details and arrangements, share the news with relatives, and go about your day-to-day. Once the flourish of activity ends, the numbing and coping mechanism stops and reality sets in. Most of the time.

“And, I want you to read his letter.” she added.

“Oh.” I looked pointedly at my mom, “Are we…….saying it out loud? His letter doesn’t leave much to the imagination, so we are telling everyone he did it on purpose?”

“I don’t have anything to hide.” Her clipped reply caught me off-guard, but filled me with a strange pride. This was not a normal response in my family. We have been hiding things on behalf of my brother for most of my life.

Her final request was that we play the hymn, I’ll Fly Away.

In the following days as I prepared, I prayed God would give me the right words to say and that I would be able to deliver them without my voice shaking on that day.

3.16.21

It would be two weeks before we received my brother’s ashes – there was some back and forth with evidence and autopsies and processing time, etc. Once they were ready, the crematorium in Arizona shipped them – like, FedEx, I’m not kidding – and they ended up getting delayed at a depot, missing the delivery window for the service.

My brother was literally late to his own funeral, which was on par for him. We made a joke of it that day.

His remains would be buried in a second-hand gravesite that had belonged to my Memaw’s family. The cemetery is only one lot over from her house. We walk over there once a year on Memorial Day to put flowers on my Great-Grandparents grave. (They didn’t serve in the military, it’s just tradition in those parts.) I grew up playing in that cemetery anytime we would visit my Memaw and Grandad, riding my bike or running laps around the circular drive. My Memaw already has her headstone fixed on her plot – even though she’s very much alive – and now my brother’s body would be tucked in the earth right beside hers.

My mom requested the event be small – immediate family, and John’s girlfriend, only. There was confetti and balloons, music and singing (I found the Etta James version of I’ll Fly Away), a little crying, and fake, press-on mustaches. (That’s a story for another day.)

The pastor from my parents’ church and I co-led the service. This was my message:

“My brother committed suicide” is not something I ever wanted to be a part of my story. Neither was getting divorced.

But what I’ve learned in the last decade and a half is that God can take the broken, unwanted parts of our story and use them anyway, if we let Him. For our good and His glory.

He even promised it right in His Word through the apostle Paul in his letter to the Romans: He causes all things to work together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.

I’ve learned if we share the vulnerable parts of our story out loud, we give other people who are hurting and broken permission to share theirs as well.

It makes them feel less alone.

So that’s what we’re doing today. We are saying the TRUTH out loud so that we can begin to process and heal together. And bringing the truth to light so it cannot stay hidden to fester in the dark.

It’s our secrets that keep us sick. And we want to be healthy and whole and free from the bondage of secrecy.

….

My husband recently pointed out that in just a couple weeks, it will be Sammy’s first Easter. But it will also be our first Easter without John.

I cried when he said that. I hadn’t thought of it yet. I am heartbroken and even angry that now these special moments of joy will be forever entwined with sorrow. Marred. Tainted.

Easter, or, “Resurrection Sunday”, as my brother would call it, has always been a big holiday for my family. We celebrate right here in Somerset every year.

It’s dripping in tradition for us.

We always buy new Easter outfits – most often complete with hats – and wear them to church. We sing hymns about the cross and the blood and Jesus’s triumphant resurrection. We take communion. We hunt eggs in the church yard afterward. We take pictures on Memaw’s back deck. We eat a big lunch and spend the day together, if not the whole weekend.

In recent years, we have played cards for hours, as that’s become our family’s most beloved pastime.

For half of my life, that’s all Easter was for me. A day of religious and familial tradition.

But the last decade or so, I have started studying and meditating on the meaning and significance of Easter and Holy Week.

Easter is earmarked by many themes and symbols: Love, Sacrifice, Blood, Redemption, Forgiveness, Grace, Victory, Freedom, Covenants, the Cross and the Crown, the Lamb and the Lion….

But for me, the strongest resounding theme of the whole holiday (at least this year) is: Hope.

Easter represents the Hope of the Promise for reunion.

After the fall of man in the Garden of Eden, God vowed to make a Way to be reunited with His beloved creation, humans. He set a Plan in motion, a Plan that culminated thousands of years later with the Roman crucifixion of His Son on that old rugged cross.

That Friday, as the sun went dark, all of Israel, all of Jesus’s followers, and all of Heaven (except the Father himself) were hopeless.

If that’s where the story had ended, we too, would be hopeless. Our bodies would die and that would also be our end.

But we all know that three days later, Jesus walked out of Hell and out of His grave, and God’s Plan was completed. His Promise was fulfilled.

And because we have accepted that promise as our own, we now live with the Hope of life after death. And an eternity of union and fellowship with our Father.

And because we know John was also in on that Promise, we get to live with the Hope of being reunited with him again one day as well.

So today, we are celebrating the time we had with him here and the Promise of an eternity of laughter and joy and adventure with him there.

We can rejoice, like John’s letter asked us to.

Miraculously, my voice didn’t quiver one time.

Afterward, we walked back to my Memaw’s house and had lunch on the back deck. We ate fried chicken and lingered in the warmth of the sun and family.

The next week I journaled,

On March 16^th, 2021, we celebrated my brother’s life. The 40 years, 6 months, and 10 days we had with him here on earth.

We celebrated the fact that we know where he is, and that we will get to see him again one day.

The day was perfect and beautiful and Holy in a way that only God could orchestrate. (71 and sunny in mid-March!)

Only after-the-fact did my cousin Kara point out that the celebration was on 3.16.

The 16th verse in the third chapter of the book of {JOHN} is one of the most well-known and well-quoted Bible verses in history. It is the first that most children are taught to memorize in Sunday School. You can probably call it to mind and rattle it off right now without much thought.

It’s the core of the Christian belief system and THE reason we will be reunited with my brother in Heaven.

“For God so loved the world that He gave his only son, so that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

Amen. Selah.

See you when we get there, brother.

***

This post is part 3 in a series that starts with: http://racheldawnwrites.com/blog/reads-like-fiction/

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.

Connecting Santa and the Savior

Jennifer Moye – Guest Blogger of the Month

Around this same time a couple years ago, our boys were sitting in the living room floor creating their Christmas lists to send to Santa. The lists consisted mostly of cut out pictures from the Toys-r-Us catalog pasted sloppily with glue sticks on poster paper. They jumped up and down with excitement with every page turn as they found a new must-have toy. In all the fun of that day, I noticed that our oldest boy had only 3 things listed on his paper. An IPad, a phone like mommy’s, and crutches.

Crutches?

Yep, that’s right. Those were his must-haves of that Christmas.

As Christmas morning rolled around, the boys ran downstairs with all the excitement that kids should have on Christmas day. They ripped open packages and slung presents around, eagerly ready to move to the next item.

The younger two boys seemed quite content with their loot for the day. But the oldest sat on the floor with his arms crossed and a sour look on his face. In his lap set a box for a brand new iPad mini still in the wrapper.

Let me just pause right here. I do not even have an iPad. Just sayin’.

When asked what was wrong, he proceeded to through a fit about how he didn’t get a phone like mommy’s or any crutches. He was furious!

I could not believe how ungrateful he was being. Didn’t he realize how awesome the gifts he had received were? How did we get to the point of demanding what we should receive and then being mad if we didn’t get it exactly as expected? Didn’t he understand he couldn’t have everything? Didn’t he know that Christmas is about more than receiving everything on your wish list?

As I sat there in the floor with my wonderful little boys, I instantly felt like a failure.

Clearly I had missed the mark in explaining to him what Christmas is all about. Why else would he act so ungrateful?

Now before you say it, I know . . . he is 5 years old. And kids are kids. I get that. But it just didn’t sit right in my soul. We had talked about the reason we celebrate Christmas. We read the Bible stories. We went to the Christmas play at church. We even gave gifts from the angel trees and donated spare change to the guy outside Walmart. We had talked about this.

I wanted my children to understand at their very core, that Christmas simply wasn’t about them. It was about Jesus. I wanted them to realize that our gifts should be a reflection of the gifts God gave to us in His Son Jesus. I wanted them to have the fun and excitement that Santa, and the Elf on the Shelf, and Christmas parties at school bring – but they needed to know in their hearts that all of it was because of the birth of our King. Even though they knew these things in their heads, I don’t think they really felt it in their innermost being. And that really bothered me.

The following year was a big year for us as we decided to homeschool, made another move, and various other life changes. One scripture passage remained in my mind throughout that time.

Deuteronomy 6: 5-9 Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.

As the holiday season approached I knew we needed to do something different this year. We needed something that would create an impression of the hearts of our boys and our family. It needed to be in our home, on our doorframes and at our gates. It needed to be intentional and purposeful.

I had no idea that the months to follow would lead me to writing a book and sharing with others the things God was revealing to me and convicting me of in my own life. This month marks the launch of the book A Gospel Christmas and it is straight from my heart to yours.

A Gospel Christmas, is our journey through the month of December 2015. We found a way to connect Santa and his naughty little elf to our greatest gift of all. It is personal and transparent. It is messy at times and most importantly it is real. It is our story of how God lead us to Himself and made a huge impression not just on the hearts of our children, but on my heart as well. Through the 25 days in December we walked through the life of Jesus in a very practical, easy, and kid friendly way. We read scripture together, we did crafts, we talked, we gave to others, we cried, and we laughed. It was the most beautiful thing to see the gospel of Jesus come alive in our children’s’ hearts. To see their eyes light up with excitement and their minds begin to understand who Jesus is to them is something that a parent couldn’t be more proud of.

As the Christmas season is approaching us quicker than we all can handle, I would like to challenge you to pray over how your family will celebrate the birth of our King this year. Do your children truly understand what this season is about? Is your family focused on Jesus this year, or distracted by parties, the latest gadgets, and hosting friends? Are you searching for a way to connect all the fun of the holiday with the true meaning of Christmas?

I would love to hear your thoughts and I would love to be on this journey with you! Head on over to my website and receive the first two chapters of A Gospel Christmas for FREE! You will also be included in our Christmas newsletter which provides tons of ideas and inspirations on different ways to connect your family to Jesus throughout the season. And because you are one of the first to know about A Gospel Christmas, I will also send you some insider tips on how to incorporate Santa, the Elf, school parties and more with our Savior’s birth!

A Gospel Christmas is available in digital copy and paperback just about everywhere! It can be ordered online or ordered through your local bookstore. Bulk orders are available for churches or other organizations as well. I would be truly honored for you to share this book and post with those you love. What better gift to give at Christmas than one that could lead someone to Jesus? You never know who’s life can be touched by a simple share.

“My word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” Isaiah 55:11

BONUS!!! Because you guys are awesome and are supporting my friend Rachel by reading her blog I want to give you a chance to win a signed copy of A Gospel Christmas for FREE! Enter our giveaway by clicking the image above and you will be in the running for one of several prizes that will be picked to celebrate the launch of this book!

Jennifer is wife to an Airman and mom to three rambunctious little boys. With excitement on a daily basis and grace around every corner, she believes we are meant to live this life in community with others and with the mercy to mess up and try again….and again. Being a mom is hard, but it is also a divine calling we can have in this life. Her ministry to women is relevant and heartfelt with her core passion being that we learn to glorify our God in our parenting, our marriage, and in our everyday lives.
Join Jennifer’s community online at:

www.jennifermoye.com

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The Other Brother

I can pinpoint the exact season(s) in my life when I have been the prodigal.

The rest of the time, I have been really, really good at being the other brother.

Feeling like I deserve things because I’m “the good one”, the responsible one; I follow the rules, I make good grades, I make good decisions. I’m REALLY good at being good.

But notice the character for whom the story is written. The reason it’s recorded in history. It’s called “the parable of the lost son”, not “the parable of the really good son”.

God LOVES the prodigals. They bring Him so much joy! He loves to celebrate them! It’s not that He doesn’t love the other brother, but notice where brother is at the end of the story: outside the party, sulking.

I want to be on the inside, joyfully rejoicing with my Father at ALL times. Not on the outside feeling slighted and entitled.

“‘My son,’ the Father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.'” – Luke 15:31-32

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Woman Camp

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Recently, my church held a camping weekend woman’s retreat, they called it “Woman Camp”.

Ten years ago, if you had told me I would be signing up for a camping trip for 500 women only – voluntarily – I would have thought you were crazy. Sure I had attended plenty of women-only events… out of sheer obligation, but not excitedly. And I didn’t really feel like I fit in when I was there, I just didn’t relate.

In case you don’t know me, I am exactly equal parts fashionista and tomboy; which means you’re just as likely to catch me barefoot as you are in AWESOME stilettos. My best friends had almost exclusively always been guys and that’s who I spent time with.
If you were a female, you had to be not “chick-like”, but love shoes as much as me, to be invited into my circle. Chicks were crazy, high-maintenance and drama, I said.

And then, after a few years of experiencing hurt and neglect and verbal abuse and rejection, I became one of the crazy chicks. I suddenly understood all their feelings and irrational behaviors for the first time. I found myself acting out, just as irrationally.
I experienced the “why” behind their “what”, the root behind their fruit (as Jennifer Beckham would say), firsthand.

And that’s when it happened: My heart broke for them. All of them. From the most meek and timid and insecure, to the most angry and bitter and malicious, because under the surface they were all dealing with the same root(s), and so was I. I got it.

My heart softened toward them. I started listening to them instead of talking about them. Many of their stories were so similar to mine.

And then, I got mad. I saw how easily the enemy manipulates and abuses this gender – my gender. And in my heart, an agape love for these people was cultivated.

And then a handful of beautiful girls stepped alongside me and showed me what a sisterhood looks like. They loved me relentlessly and graciously accepted all my parts – the good, the bad, the tomboy and the ugly. 😉 And I wanted to do the same for them.

It didn’t take long before all the pieces fit together, and a PASSION for leading women out of bondage and shame, fear and isolation and into freedom, healing, wholeness and restoration was born in my soul.

That’s what this Woman Camp weekend was about for me – getting to be a part of that movement in Cincinnati, inside my church community. I got a glimpse of what that passion looks like coming to fruition. I wanted a front row seat to watch God do incredible, miraculous things in and through women. And I was excited to be a part of or help facilitate lives changing in any way I could.

This weekend was also a time of refreshing and worship away with my Father. It was Him showing me his plans and visions for me, once again. Him reminding me that He is handling everything, from every angle, and I’m just along for the ride – Safe. Protected. Provisioned. Called. Chosen. Anointed. Unqualified, but made qualified for this task through Him.

Let the veils stay lifted away and burned for each of us, and a clear picture of who God says we are and is calling us to be be branded in our mind’s eye. Our God has so much more for us. We are free women. No longer slaves to fear. We are children of God.

What Business AM I in??!

A few weeks ago, Facebook released a promotional tool for “business pages” housed on their site. It’s a video that starts with, “we are in the business of….” And gives a very brief overview/description of your business. Like a 15 second mini-commercial.

I followed the link to create my own for my writer/speaker page. Facebook did all the work for me, I just had to fill in the blanks and make my selections and it would spit out a professional marketing tool. I picked all my favorite pictures and clicked “next”, then the tagline pops up: “We are in the business of…..” I sat staring at the blinking cursor in the empty text box.

What business AM I in?

Why does this page exist?

What IS the point of all this?

Why am I doing this?
And how do I even begin to put that into 160 characters or less?!!

You want me to summarize my life’s purpose in less than a dozen words?!

I literally closed the window and didn’t look at it again for two weeks.

It ate at me, that I couldn’t articulate why I do what I do, and how to explain it to someone – simply.

I started to meditate on the reasons why I write, why I share vulnerable parts of my life and my story, why building my platform on social media even matters…. I started to really think about all of it.

I thought back to a question I had asked myself about a year ago, “Rachel, what are you passionate about?”. At that time, I made a list and that list helped me to put things into perspective. I was able to prioritize my time/energy/focus on the things that really matter to me, and put aside things that I was mildly interested in, or that were just eating up my time.

A few key words started to float to the surface of my mind: Hope, Inspiration, Dreams, Belief, Freedom.

Finally, I decided on this: “We are in the business of restoring hope, igniting dreams, inspiring change, and leading people toward freedom.”

The video turned out absolutely delightful. (if you want to watch it: My Business Video)

I wished I could have gone into more detail about each of those items on there but I certainly can here:

Restoring hope
for the hopeless.
Because I once was.

Igniting dreams
for those who have forgotten how to dream, or lost the ability to believe in them.

Because I lived in that place, the place where everything I once dreamed about seemed too far out of reach, broken, ruined, and you don’t know how or where to begin again.

Inspiring change
I realize I cannot changing anybody. Ever. Period.
But by sharing my story of how my life has changed, I can help people see that change is possible, and achievable, and desirable and inspire them to seek change in their own lives.

Leading people to freedom.
Freedom? Freedom.
Freedom from shame, freedom from fear, freedom from guilt, freedom from bondage, freedom from entitlement, freedom from their past hurts, failures and bad decisions.
Woah. That’s a big one. A pretty tall order. And it’s the one thing I’m most passionate about. But can I really do that?
No, I cannot make anyone free, I cannot give anyone freedom myself. But, I can lead them to the Source of True Freedom, where I found my own.

If I achieve all or any one of these things, in the life of even one person who visits, likes, or follows my page, then it will have been successful in its purpose.

So what business am I in?
I’m in the business of loving and encouraging people. I’m in the business of (trying my best) to show people the character and person of Jesus in real life, even if it’s over a computer screen. I’m in the business of making myself vulnerable so people feel less alone about their own failures and shortcomings. I’m in the business of extending grace, ’cause God knows I need my fair share! I’m in the business of helping people live in the fullness and wholeness they were created so that they may identify and go after their own purpose. I’m in the business of positioning them to see and believe that it’s possible – no matter what they’ve been through, or from where they are starting. I’m in the messy human being business.

But that’s WAY more than 160 characters ;)What business are you in?

A Pressure-Cooked Reminder

It’s funny, in the last few weeks there have been so many things going on in our life – MAJOR life changes: my husband quit his job and now works from home, I started a professional speaking career outside my current job, my editor got back to me with all the changes I need to approve in my book, we bought a house….. It’s been overwhelming. I’ve been overwhelmed. Stressed to the max- I can feel it in my body (and so can my chiropractor!)

Naturally with all that going on, tension has run high in our home. My husband and I have been bickering and even arguing a lot, which is rare for us. And this only adds to the stress and exhaustion. I started to think, it’s been a while since we’ve really focused on working on our marriage, we’re coming up on 2 years, maybe we need to go to a refresher course or a retreat.

I was aware, in all the stress and busyness, my time reading and praying with the Lord has suffered as well. It’s been almost non-existent. I keep telling myself I’ll get back in my routine once things slow down. And then it hit me: I don’t need a refresher with my husband to ease the tension in my marriage right now (although there certainly is a time and place for that), what I need is a refresher with the Lord! I realized in my stress I let my focus shift to “what’s wrong with us” right now instead of “what’s wrong with me and how do I fix that?” I was looking to my husband to take all that stress and pressure off me, which is too big a task for his human ability.

Every time I sneak away for some time alone with my prayer journal, things seem less overwhelming and I let my husband off the hook.

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Amazing Amazing Grace

“The thing I find most amazing about amazing grace is the chance to give it out;
Maybe that’s what love is all about.” – I’m Not Who I Was, Brandon Heath

This past week, I ran across the poetry and memoirs I wrote during the whirlwind five month romance that lasted from the day we met, to the day I married, my ex-husband.

It was ironic, and a little heartbreaking to read.

What I wrote most about was all the good things I saw in him and how bright our predestined future together was. I wrote about seeing him through God’s eyes, the way He had created him, and all the things he was called to do with his life.

But after we were married, once the routine, stress and pressure of everyday reality hit: bills, jobs, stress, in-laws, holidays, the piles of dirty laundry, and dishes left all over the house…. My own natural eyesight came back into focus. All I could think day after day was how different he was than before, and how our whirlwind romance was nothing like it was. How I no longer felt in love.

And, from everything I had read in relationship books, I knew it was my husband’s responsibility to keep up with the expectations he had set while we were dating, to satisfy my every dream and desire, to make me happy every day, to fill my love tank, to not step on my air hose, show me affection, chase after me, and resolve conflicts… It was his job to make me feel loved.

I tried guilting him in to loving me, threatening him, belittling him, challenging him, counseling him, and loving him into loving me. None of that worked. I even prayed to God to change him, to make him want to love and fight for me.

You May Have To(1) And when he didn’t, hurt, anger, bitterness, resentment set in. Criticism raged, and in time, I was disgusted by him. Instead of seeing his potential, I only felt contempt when I looked at who I saw. (It’s funny… I never really stopped to ask God what I could do to change the situation, because I knew, clearly, it was all his fault.) Eventually, all of this surmounted into hopelessness – about our marriage, about our future. I couldn’t see any way it would ever get better.

It’s easy when we’re in the “feel-good” phase of romantic love, to see all the good qualities in our spouses, to see them through God’s eyes. To see their potential, and all the good they have on the inside. But, when everyday life hits, how quickly all we can see are their flaws, their annoying habits, their broken-promises, how far they still are from that future person they were created to be.

Oh how that breaks my heart to think about how foolish I was.

It was not my ex-husband’s job to make me happy or satisfied, any more than it is my husband’s job now.

He can’t, really. Not fully anyway. No matter how badly he wants to or even how hard he tries. He can never truly fulfill all the things my heart and soul desire in a relationship. Ever.

There is only One Person who can ever do that.
This isn’t a self-help article – I’m not talking about finding zen and happiness on your own. Although that’s where the responsibility starts and lies – it’s up to YOU (and me) to seek fulfillment and wholeness and satisfaction and joy from the only One who can ever provide all of that for us – in any lasting capacity.

Jesus Christ.

I had been preached to my whole life growing up in church and youth group, “You have to keep Jesus at the center of your relationship for it to really work”. But no one ever took the time to explain to me what the hell that actually meant or looked like in real life.

If you’re in that same boat, allow me to shed some light on this for you now, based on what I’ve learned and am still learning:

While preparing for my remarriage, God showed me all the times I fall short from that picture He has of me, and the times I hurt and disappoint Him. Once I realized, I wasn’t really so perfect either, it made it a lot easier for me to cut someone else some slack when they don’t live up to my expectations.

In fact, I kind of learned to let go of expectations all together.

I learned that if I take the time to seek relationship with Jesus every day, to connect with Him regularly – through prayer, through reading scripture (to learn more about his character) through reading books about Him, then I find my happiness and fulfillment there, in that relationship. And that takes pressure off Barry.

Jesus literally fills me up – with love, with grace, with patience – so that I even have anything to give back to my husband.

And in our time together, Jesus is constantly renewing my vision to see Barry the way He sees him. I can look with fresh eyes and see – not the way he’s acting that day, or the way he’s making me feel – but all those things God has planted inside him that I get the privilege of watching come to fruition. I see the ways he’s trying rather than the fact he’s not there yet.

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When Barry hurts me or makes me angry, if I take it to God first – He bandages me up, from the inside out – and then I can go back to Barry healed and whole and able to continue to give him the love and respect he needs, rather than the bitterness or contempt I feel like showing him.

And I know that’s waaaaaaay easier said than done. I don’t always feel like going to God first about something, sometimes I’d rather pout or stew about it for a while. But every time I find myself slipping back into disappointment, I check myself and remember the AMAZING grace I’ve been given, that I don’t deserve. And I find the strength and desire to pass that gift along to my husband.

And here’s the BEST part: once you take those expectations off your spouse – to be “your everything” (something that is humanly impossible for them to do) then they are freed up to love you in the ways they can, and it’s all just icing on the cake!