Cause for a Jubilee

Jubilee. It’s the word that keeps coming to mind as seven years of reflecting on loss rolls around. At first, I thought I remembered the seventh year was the Year of Jubilee in the Old Testament. Turns out it’s seven years of seven, so the end of the 49^th year or the beginning of the 50^{th (}Leviticus 25:8-10). Nevertheless, jubilee is the odd word that keeps sticking when I reflect on seven years without Savannah Veale. Seven years of processing the grief of her untimely death and the hole in my life left behind. Seven years of feeling like a completely different person because she died. Seven years of difficult mind and soul work to understand what life means to me now.

And God gives me the word jubilee. Such an odd word. An uncommon word to associate with the anniversary of a death. Yet, it is a word that means the celebration of an anniversary. It is a word that represents the ideas of emancipation and restoration.

To say I feel emancipated and restored from the experience of her death feels wrong. Very wrong. It feels like I am betraying her memory. Afterall, part of grief is the inability to express felt love. Yet, here I sit this seventh year, not crying, not depressed. All God keeps whispering is, “Jubilee.”

Maybe it is through the years of processing, the swimming pools of tears cried, the angry words screamed and prayed, and all the unanswered questions that God works to bring emancipation and restoration.

Maybe every blog written in pain, every therapy session overflowing with snotty tissues, and every word penned in public or private was actually the treatment my heart needed all along. To express pain and be heard by someone, even if it was only God, was the very medicine my heart needed to finally feel free again, to feel more whole this year than last. It’s taken me seven years to get here and be at peace, to experience jubilee on this day instead of despair. It may take others seventy.

I wholeheartedly agree, time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it does offer the gift of perspective. A perspective I have now, seven years later with her gone, that I would not have had had she stayed.  This does not mean I don’t miss her or even that I’m grateful she died. I can’t hardly even swallow those words, much less type them.

But I am grateful that my Jesus has been gentle with me. He has been understanding and long suffering and never impatient. He has poured grace upon grace into my marriage, my friendships, my children, and all my life for seven years now. He has not forgotten her, and He’s allowed me to mourn her in my way in my time, all the while showing me His way in His time. He shifted my perspective over these seven years, not to see that He healed the wound, but to see what the wound has revealed about me and about Him.

Emancipated and restored people still walk around wounded, yet they also still experience the joy of jubilee. Grief does not cancel out joy. They are not mutually exclusive of each other. I think it’s taken seven years for me to accept this as truth. I am fully aware it may take others longer, and I may be in tears tomorrow. Both are ok. Jesus is gentle with you right where you are, always your best interest at the heart of His every intention.

So, on this jubilee, this seven-year anniversary, I am grateful for Jesus who never gave up on me even when I gave up on Him. I’m grateful He is the story I get to write. I don’t celebrate her death, but I will celebrate that I can testify a relationship with Jesus frees and restores. I have lived it for seven years. No one can take that knowledge and that experience from me. No one will ever convince me God isn’t good, and He doesn’t care. You just can’t.

My word of advice and encouragement for my brothers and sisters who still grieve, hard—Take it all to Jesus. All of it. All the anger, all the pain, all the questions, all the silence, all the waiting, all the panic, all the frantic—take all of it to Him. Wrestle with Him. Work out your salvation with fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12). He is mighty to save (Zephaniah 3:17). His ways are not our ways, but His intentions are nothing but for our good (Isaiah 55:8, Genesis 50:20). Will you make the choice to stay the course, to follow Jesus long enough and close enough in relationship to witness the good He intends?

Maybe that’s the celebration. Seven years today I can testify as a witness to the good He intended. I can stand as the oak tree in Isaiah 61:3 claiming all the promises to be found therein. If death and grief unearthed a reflection of God’s splendor hiding deep inside me, then His will be done, and all the glory is His. These seven years God has emancipated me unto Himself; He has restored me unto Himself in ways I did not know I needed to be freed, in ways I did not know I was lost. That is cause for a jubilee.

Seven years is a long time, forty-nine even longer. Christ has long suffered with and for His people since He first created us all and set time in motion. If He has not called it quits on us yet, can you not seek Him just one more hour of one more day? The jubilee is coming. I know this to be true.

Grateful to be His,

Jennifer Durham

Choose to Stay

Joey and I have been married now for a little over eighteen years.  Unfortunately, that's long enough that we've now entered this new season of life where people we love dearly and some we least expected are struggling in their marriages and many are choosing divorce.

Joey and I do not have the perfect marriage. We've cussed at each other, thrown things, stormed off and out and away at times. We've screamed and cried and belittled. I've disrespected him, and he's withheld love I desperately needed. We've sat through our fair share of counseling. It has not always been peaches and roses and adoring Instagram posts. It has been work.

It has been hard work. Marriages don't come together over night, and they don't stay together once you say I do. There's no magical glue in those vows that cements two hearts together forever. No, those vows are a covenant statement before God and man that the two of you will choose to work with and for each other for better or worse, for sicker or poorer, 'til death do you part. God never breaks His covenants with us.  His Word is His bond; it is His promise; you can stake your life on it. Your marriage vows should be the same, or you shouldn't choose to make them. 

(I'm leaving a wide open door here for those that have found themselves in a marriage where their spouse is physically abusing them and putting their life or the lives of their children in jeopardy. By all means, get yourself out of that situation.)

But for the rest of us, our word should mean something. Those vows should be honored no matter how difficult the life circumstances. I have yet to watch a marriage fall apart where at some point in time during the disintegration of the marriage both people suffered from an inability to admit their faults. Something the other person did or is doing or has done is always worse than what they see in the mirror. That's pride, friends. Pride makes us rate our sin instead of being broken over the fact that we actually sin. Your inability to admit your faults--pride--is the same sin in the eyes of God as the adulterer. We all sin. We all fall short of the glory of God. Every day. 

Why are we so quick to hold this against our spouse? To create a boundary where they've gone too far, hurt us too much that we harden our hearts against them? That we choose not to forgive them? That we choose to be the one that refuses to change this time? Who am I to throw up that wall?

Did God ever throw up that wall in our relationship? Has He ever said, "That's it. That's enough. I won't take anymore sin from you in this relationship. You've hurt Me for the last time. Your unwillingness to change is intolerable, and what you offer is too little, too late. We're done." ? Praise God He has never, ever even considered treating me this way because of the blood and sacrifice of my Jesus and the covenant He made with me through Christ! When I said yes to Him all those years ago, He said yes to me, and He's never backed away.

Marriage was designed to be an earthly reflection and metaphor for our relationship with God. No other relationship, no other friendship, no other acquaintance comes with a covenant commitment said in ceremony before God and witnesses. That's what makes marriage holy and set apart and different. We're vowing to each other to make it work, no matter what. Just like the Lord makes our relationship with Him work--for our good even--no matter what.

So why does it come as a surprise that marriage is hard work? Because the movies tell us differently? Because all fairy tales have happy endings? Where are any of those ideas in the Bible?

I see people willing to make all kinds of sacrifices every day for their children, their athletics, their health, their careers, their ministries, their causes, their passions. They devote time and money to the study of these things, to the improvement and betterment of themselves in these areas of their lives. They sacrifice pieces of themselves, pushing themselves, and are even willing to change themselves to consider themselves a success in these areas of life, to be validated as a success by others in these areas of life.

Yet somehow we think the work, the act, the job, the aspiration of a successful marriage isn't worth the same consideration and commitment. It shouldn't be this hard.  

What a lie from the devil this generation has bought. And the nuclear fall out of divorce continues to be felt by and to mold our children and their children and their children. What if this generation decided it was time to put an end to divorce? What if when we chose to say I do, we understood the gravity of those words and the work it would require to achieve the goal of a thriving marriage? What if we set our minds to the work ahead of us, studying our spouse, seeking understanding through healthy communication, dreaming together, living the highs and lows of life together, adding new tools to our toolbox for marriage each step along the way? What if we chose to stay? What if we chose to fight for each other instead of against? or instead of giving up?

I'm forever grateful my Jesus chooses to stay with me and fight for me even when I've chosen to get in the car and drive far away. He chooses me every time and always. He even comes looking for me. What if in marriage we sought the heart of our spouse the way Jesus seeks us? 

Because the truth is marriage was God's idea and design to begin with. It won't work without Him at the center. God designed each of us with a God-shaped hole. If we don't fill it with a relationship with Him first, we have no hope of any other relationship standing the test of time. If after committing your life to following Christ, you find yourself committing to do life with another sinful human for better or worse, I will attend that wedding and celebrate with you, but also remind you of the choice you are making, the vow you are saying, the calling you are accepting because that man or woman has now become your second most important priority in life behind your relationship with Christ.

You want to teach your children the importance of grit, determination, stick-to-it-ness? Stay married.

You want to show others what it means to honor a commitment; that your word is your bond? Stay married. You want to be an example to a generation looking for role models who don't leave when it gets hard, who don't abandon when the stress is high, who aren't always looking for a better option or opportunity? Stay married. You want to show others what it looks like to fight for something you believe in? Stay married. You want to change the course of the future and rewrite history for those watching you, observing you, modeling themselves after you? Stay married.

And don't just choose to stay married and cohabitate and coexist. That's not marriage. That's the way of the sluggard. That's the sin of sloth on display. Marriage is two becoming one--mind, body, heart, and soul. That takes work. That takes research. That takes asking for help. That takes never giving up.  That takes a lifetime.

Plus, when you sit down to talk to the people who have stayed, who've worked hard to make it work, who've made it through the decades of hard, but enjoyed three times as many decades of good together, they all tell you it was worth it. Every tear, ever smile, every belly laugh, every curse, every hurt, every joy--it was worth it. We envy them. We want what they have. The question is will you stick around long enough for that to be your story too? Will you choose to do the hardest work, aspire to the greatest lifetime achievement award of staying married?

From what I've observed in my short almost-forty years, it is hands down, short of introducing them to a relationship with Christ, the best gift I can give my children, and the best testimony of character I live out in front of a watching world. If the one legacy I leave behind in this world is a model, an example for how to stay married and thrive, I will have considered it a great honor for my Jesus to allow that to be my purpose for walking this earth.  Because my friends, it just really isn't about me and my happiness today or tomorrow, it's about the eternal effects my daily choices can make for all those that follow. So I choose Jesus, and I choose Joey because those are the only two relationships I willingly chose to tie my life to in covenant promise. The rest--the kids, the career, the health, the ministries, the passions--I trust will fall into place how and when my Jesus sees fit.

Choose to do the hard thing, the hard work, the thing that, maybe today hurts so much. Choose Jesus. Choose your spouse. Seek help. Stay married. It's worth it. I promise it's worth it. You just won't ever know how worth it is for yourself unless you choose to stay.

Will You Follow?

I have believed many lies in my brief 30+ years on earth.  Some of them were taught to me, but I'm learning more and more that most of them are simply part of me, part of how I think, part of being human.  The lie that got my attention today is being a Christian should be easy, or at least easier.

Now where this lie originated (the devil!) in my life, I'm not sure.  Maybe it's been all the years of "I can do all things through Christ," or "with Christ living through you anything is possible," or "just lean on the Lord, He will get you through."  Now, there is truth in all of those statements, but when you've been a professing Christian since you were four years old, and it hasn't gotten easier yet?  As a matter of fact, I'd say it's actually gotten harder to live the Christian walk?  How do you make sense of it?  What's the truth?  What do you tell your children?  Because Lord knows I never want to knowingly lie to them!  How do you honestly convince people in general that this straight and narrow path is really worth it?

My girl had a tough go of it at school for a few days, bringing home yellow faces instead of green on her behavior card.  As soon as she would get in the car, she would break down into tears and just cry, "It's just so hard to obey, mommy!"  And I'd have to sigh and rub her leg and agree.  Yes, it is very hard to obey.

It's actually easier to choose to do the wrong thing.  In that moment in time when the wrong choice beckons you to follow down the crowded, wide path where everyone appears to be having a party, it is EXTREMELY difficult to choose the narrow road no one seems to be choosing.  And isn't that what every decision, EVERY decision boils down to?  In a split second of time, when your flesh is tugging you in one direction and the Spirit in the other, it is very hard to obey.

Here's the catch though.  Every decision comes with consequences, some positive, some negative, but every decision is followed by consequences.  Some consequences are immediate, be they positive or negative.  Some consequences fester in the heart and mind and soul over time and are played out in months and years to come, but every person reading should be assured that EVERY decision has consequences.

So the real decision in that moment should be, what consequences do I want?  Do I want the added calories and fat from the chocolate bar in the aisle which will not benefit me toward my weight loss goal?  Or do I want to forgo those calories and focus on the fact that my body is slowly getting into shape and I need to do whatever little bit I can to help it out?  See, the question really isn't do I want the candy bar?

The question is do I want the consequences of choosing the candy bar?

And teaching this, teaching this kind of thinking to our children is more than difficult. We live in a microwaveable, instantly downloadable, always accessible society. Instant results and answers have become the norm. Thinking about anything for any length of time or heaven forbid, actually having to spend time in a library doing actual hard-copy research has become antiquated and somewhat extinct. You have a question? You google it. You want a discount? You google search for that or download an app. You want a very specific thing of any sort? Google search and buy anything you can describe online. Instant gratification all the time, any time, from anywhere.

It's no wonder our children grow up thinking they deserve it all. They kinda have it all at their finger tips. It's no wonder they shy away from working hard for anything. They aren't required to work harder than what their fingers can search for on the internet. Yet this is the time and place that God chose for them live, and as a parent, I have to accept and embrace this fact, seeking the Lord for how to best guide them through this life, their world, our world.

Everything in our lives is either orchestrated by God or allowed by God. Argue the semantics of this all you want, but this truth is hard to swallow. Children die every day, leaving behind grieving parents, yet God is still a good God. That is a hard truth to believe. God is sovereign over all governing authorities. That is a hard truth to accept.

When you start to strip down to the bare bones of who God is, we mere humans are left with hard truths, hard paths, hard choices. And still the question will beckon, 'Will you follow Me?'

Will you follow Jesus when His ways are not your ways, when His choices are not your choices, when His politics don't align with your politics, when His definitions of things don't match your beliefs? Will you follow Him through the green meadows of life AND the fiery furnaces that feel a whole lot like Hell? Will you follow Jesus when you can't Google or study to find a suitable answer to your greatest questions? Will you follow Him when it makes absolutely no sense to do so other than He's calling?

At the beginning, in the middle, and at the end of all the hard roads, the only question you really have to answer, every second of every day, is: Will you follow?

And sometimes, most times, by faith, you say yes to that question for no.good.reason. I find as I get older I don't always have the right answers for everything, most things actually. I find I don't want to explain all the decisions I choose to make. (I should be ready to defend my choices, but not feel the need to publicly announce and justify my choices. Ahem--Facebook.)

The truth is living out the Christian life is hard, most days, most of the time. And while it might not get easier, I will say the perks are sweeter, and nothing quite compares to falling asleep every night knowing you are fully loved, fully accepted, and fully forgiven to live another day.

So to all the Timothy's in my life, the ones younger who for some reason think I might have an inkling of wisdom, I will truthfully tell you this: Choosing to follow Christ in a trusting relationship between you and Him is the hardest mission you will ever choose to accept. Which means it will also be the one with the greatest rewards when it's all said and done. And real Christians believe that truth and live that truth by faith alone, and there's really no amount of explaining that can make it make sense to a critical world. Only the Holy Spirit can do that.

So the question remains, will you follow? In good times and bad, for better or worse? Do you believe you are cherished enough by Jesus to trust Him no matter what? Because sometimes it IS just hard. Good thing the Man I choose to follow is the Creator and Sovereign Lord of the Universe. Talk to anyone. Life is hard regardless of who or what you choose to follow. Wouldn't you rather follow the Man who designed it all from the beginning of time anyway? I'm pretty sure He's the only one that knows the right path to take, even if it doesn't always make sense to me or the people around me.

Where I Am

I had a sneaky suspicion when the first day of 2018 was the most perfect day ever that the rest of the year was downhill from there, but we always hope for the best, right?

Sigh.  Well, I've found myself in the middle of one of the hardest years of personal growth in my life. Like ever. I'm learning things about myself that I don't like. Ugly things. Hard things. Things like...

I'm not strong, I'm just really good at trying to control my environment.

This causes me to be anxious, not what I've labeled as stress my whole life. (FYI, stress is something to be managed outwardly, anxiety is a sin of the heart.)

I don't know how to deal with disappointment. I'm deeply afraid of disappointing everyone in my life, and then unable to handle the emotions that come crashing when they disappoint me.

This causes deep bouts of depression because when you're constantly aware of the inner workings of life around you (both my gift and my curse), you are constantly disappointed in something or someone, and most often that is myself.

I don't know how to communicate effectively with the people in my life. I express myself with so much emotion and deep conviction that I'm pretty sure it's off-putting for most people to receive. Learning to bridle and train these emotions to speak graciously is hard work, so I most often opt to not speak at all for fear of burdening those around me with my emotions. (The people in my life who love me best, allow me to cry and still hear my heart. For them, I am deeply grateful.) But opting to not speak has also left me feeling unheard most of my life.

It's deeply concerning how much I deeply desire to be heard, truly seen, and known and accepted just the way I am. 

Enter Jesus.

It's no coincidence that my time with the Lord this year has led me to these books. This is where the Lord has me rooted and growing, learning to accept who He made me to be and how to allow Him to use it for His glory.

Currently, I'm reading through the Psalms for like the hundredth time in my life because a depressed person needs the psalms. David was the ultimate example of how to honestly express all that you are feeling and still glorify God.

Streams in the Desert is a perfectly titled devotion that has encouraged and challenged me throughout the low points in my life. God meets me in these pages and gently reminds me life will be hard, but He is greater and He is good.

Strong Women Soft Hearts. Wow. If you've got a group of ladies that you can be real and honest with, a small group that loves you unconditionally, grab them and dive in to this book. I am challenged and encouraged by the way God is using this book to grow me, but I need the accountability of the friends I'm doing it with, or I would have tossed it a long time ago! 

How We Love workbook. I read the book, which is excellent, very insightful, but the hard work has come in inviting my husband to work through the workbook together. Our marriage has never been better, closer, or more intimate. It's taken seventeen years of married life to get us to the point where we can stomach this book together, maturely, but I'm loving diving into every hard truth revealed, with him right there with me. It might take us 10 years to work through the whole book with as often as we have time to discuss it, but it kinda makes me look forward to every conversation for the next 10 years!

When God Doesn't Fix It is the book I read in small chunks at night, on an airplane, or in moments when a screen just doesn't seem like the best choice. The very practical, straightforward debunking of myths and statement of truth at the end of every chapter has given me food for thought in all the best ways.

I've been on a personal journey to find and understand the true meaning of joy for quite some time. What I didn't bargain for was that Sorrow and Suffering would be my companions on this journey. Seems a bit ironic doesn't it? That in my quest for Joy, these are what I have encountered.

Yet, my Jesus has been with me every step of the way. Not once have I felt abandoned or condemned by Him. I condemn myself enough as it is, and even on the days when I fully expect Him to condemn, chastise, or discipline me because I've screwed up royally, instead I am constantly surprised by His constant, gentle presence that reminds me He made me and He sees me and He knows me and He loves me just the way I am.  Sinful, messed up, confused, not enough, struggling--He loves this me, right now, right here in the midst of the mess of where I am.

My Jesus is not a demanding Master, He is a patient Encourager reminding me that I may be weak, but He is Strength. I may be anxious, but He is Peace. I may be disappointed, but He is Able. I may be overwhelmed by my short-comings, but He is Greater. He is the Answer to every problem I encounter. Joy is found in not just finding Him again and reconnecting with Him, but it is found in the slow, hard work of abiding with Him through it all.

For the last six months, I've been paralyzed to share my heart because I've felt like I've been in the middle of the struggle. The story will be shareable when I have a happy ending to proclaim God's inevitable victory and glory in my life. God is gently telling me to share my story anyway because His glory is evident and real even though I don't have a happy ending yet. 

I may struggle with anxiety and depression the rest of this life. Jesus is teaching me to accept this, so He can use it. You cannot surrender what you do not accept. Maybe one day I will write the story of how He saved me and freed me from the dark emotions that overwhelm me some days, but for now, I think He just wants me to be honest with who I am now, in this season, for today--struggling, but still in love with Him. 

I had a sad day yesterday, for no particular reason (which I hate, by the way. I've lived my life believing there's a reason for everything, and now I'm learning that may not be true?--whatever I digress, another blog for another day...) I had a sad day. And in the midst of all the dark, deep, overwhelming emotions that beckoned me to crawl in bed and hide, I suddenly--literally--threw up my hands in angry surrender, and spoke out loud, "Lord, if I have to feel all these emotions will You at least use them for Your glory?" And to that, He said, "Yes."

And today, I write for the first time in a long time because even though I have no idea who reads this blog (because that doesn't really matter anyway), this is just one space where He gets the glory, and that feels right and good and chips away at the pointlessness of life that a depressed person often feels deep in their soul. My life isn't pointless if He gets the glory. I have to believe that. It has to be true.

Where are you? Really? You may believe no one really wants to know the real answer to that question, but I do. God does. Who can you share the real you with today? the vulnerable you? the you God created for today? Someone needs you to stop hiding and waiting for the happy ending to share because I'm starting to believe God gets the glory in the middle of the mess too.

Breaking the Bad

I've been married for just a little over sixteen years now, and the longer I am married, the longer Joey and I have chosen to stick it out through the hard, the ugly, and the dirty of each other, the more in love with him I fall.

I have a theory that in every relationship there is one person that is better at it than the other because I think God puts us together that way.  Because every relationship goes through what Joey and I like to refer to as the downward, spiraling cycle. If you've been in any kind of relationship for any amount of time, you probably know what I'm referring to--those times when you're hurting and they're hurting, or you're both frustrated, disappointed, angry at life for whatever reasons, could be simple reasons like you both just had a long, hard frustrating day.

It's in these negative, downward spiraling cycles that we often lash out at the people closest to us. We look to them for strength or comfort or help, and since they're in the same place as you, they have nothing to offer either.  It's in this spin cycle that marriages, I believe, begin to crack, separate, and eventually break and disintegrate when the dust settles. Because these cycles start small, but can spin for days, weeks, months, years, growing in size and intensity, until someone finds a way to be the better person, the bigger person, the more humble, Christ-like person and do something to break the bad cycle.

My husband always finds a way to do this.  He can be just as tired, just as disappointed, just as irritated as me because of our life circumstances. So we start to jab and barb at each other.  Small looks, silly comments, silent treatments, ignoring actions and holding our tongues, when all the while the pressure is building underneath.  Someone is going to blow.  It's usually me.

But if one of us can remember Jesus, can humble ourselves enough for just a few moments to breath peace, to remember our war is not against each other, to offer an olive branch in a small or grand gesture, I'm always amazed at how the storm cycle brewing, suddenly vanishes.

We had a horrendous day yesterday of travel. Long flights dotted with the irritability of constant technology malfunctions, delays experienced in the terminal and sitting on the runway, disappointed, tired children, time zone jacking with your eating schedules, Joey losing his beach hat, and just a long list of tiny, irritating, life things that can happen when you travel coast to coast with two children.

Add in the stress I've put myself under all week just trying to pack our family for this week long vacation while making sure the kids are enjoying their mom and their summer, and Joey trying to rap up loose ends at work during a very busy planning season, our spin cycle was already churning before the irritating day of travel began yesterday.

But somehow, my husband wakes up this morning, and it's a new day for him. He's managed to forgive me for all my tongue-in-cheek comments and saucy attitudes (which he had his fair share of contributing, but maybe not as much as myself), and he takes our two restless kids to grocery shop at Walmart for our vacation while I sit here in a quiet hotel room and marvel at how I ended up with a man that is SO good to me, which ultimately brings me back to the thought that I have a man who loves Jesus more than he loves me. Somehow, Joey is better at humbling himself and letting go of his pride and righ- to-be-right than I am.  He's able to brush things off his shoulders and not take them personally WAY better than I am.

And there's one part of me that wants to feel shame over this. Guilt knocks on my heart and begs to enter and play the poor-terrible-me tune.  Jesus shuts the door on that and reminds me there is no condemnation allowed in my relationship with Him. He forgives me, but He does want me to get a grip and fall in line with my fine husband's example, with Jesus' example, of forgive and live and love anyway. His mercies are new every morning.

And so I'll take the gift that Joey and Jesus have offered--this silent, clean hotel room, and I'll give credit where credit is due. I'll be grateful, deeply grateful for a man of God who loves Jesus first, me second, and our children third.  Be grateful for a husband who shoulders the hard work of stepping in and stepping up when my emotions and state-of-mind have got the better of me.  Be thankful that he's capable and willing to take both my kids to the grocery store AND do the shopping for me. 

He's very good at breaking the bad cycle in our marriage, but I'm also very aware of what it costs him to do so. Jesus is excellent at breaking the bad cycles in my life, and in these moments I'm keenly aware of what it cost Him to do so as well.

So I'll be grateful, deeply grateful that my Jesus makes Himself known to me in my marriage through my husband's humble sacrifices of self.  Be grateful for a God who shouldered the hard work of the cross, who stepped in and stepped up when my useless works and bad attitudes and sins were getting the better of me. Be thankful that my Jesus is more than capable of renewing and refreshing my heart and attitude if I will just take the time to let Him.

Joey will undoubtedly be back soon. Kids excited, ready to see their cousins, sun shining and all of us ready to feel warm Florida waves running between our toes. But my husband's willingness to sacrificially, love me, even in this small way--And I KNOW it was a sacrifice for him too, I know he's tired too--now makes my hard, defensive, exterior toward life soften. It makes my bad, selfish, what-about-me attitude dissipate.  His one act of selflessness helps me move past me. It makes me want to be selfless for him in return.

So the question always is, in any relationship, who gives first? Who's going to reset the spin cycle by choosing to be selfless enough to do the hard work of loving the other person even when they don't deserve to be loved? Even when you're not guaranteed to get anything in return? The person who humbles themself first, to the world, appears to be the weak one, the one who always accommodates, gives in, gives up, at least those are the lies I battle when I know I should break the cycle first.  So it's pride that really keeps my back turned most of the time. Pride that insists on "winning" this fight, this argument, this situation. Pride that requires an apology, an admittance of wrong before I will consider softening, letting my guard down, serving, loving the offender.

Yet every time, after the fact, I know it's the one who humbles themself to "lose" the argument or do something to soften and show compassion in the middle of the situation, who gives undeserved grace when every bone in your body is screaming you don't want to--I know that person is the real winner because they are more Christ-like, and they are showing true love.

Sigh. Why can't I be that person more often? I pray to be that person. I think God's grown me in this area with others outside my family, but it's hard work treating those closest to you with this same grace.  We expect so much from the ones who know us best, when really, they're just sinful humans like the rest of the world we somehow so easily forgive at times.

"Lord, thank you for my marriage. Thank you that it truly is the deepest and best picture of how You love us. Thank you for a husband who loves me well, who humbles himself to bear the weight of hard choices and hard situations, who breaks the bad cycles in our marriage with his servant's heart. Teach me to be more humble. I know that real love expects nothing in return, ever. Teach me to really love him, Lord. Forgive me for my hard, entitled heart. No one owes me anything, Lord, but I owe everything to You."

Living Emptied

When God is working deep lessons in your life, sometimes it's best to be silent, and let Him work. Sometimes the lessons are so hard and so personal, it feels like a violation of privacy to someone, somehow to speak up. Then sometimes you come out the other side of a hard lesson, and you experience God first hand, and now it's time to share. It's time to testify once more....my God always comes through.

My lesson lately has been a journey of endurance and brokenness. What does it look like to live a broken life? A poured out life? A selfless, daily focus, of letting the Lord fill me up, then pour me out again. Pour me into grieving friends, a worn, yet supportive husband, needy children, seeking high school students, and encouragement of godly women. Pour me into the servanthood of folding laundry, keeping schedules, replying to text messages, sending emails, cooking meals, and running errands. Pouring out physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Holding nothing back. Laying my head down at the end of every day having laid it all out there, for better or worse, I've been poured out either flesh or spirit, and watching, waiting, examining and weighing the results.

So this past week after a month of committing to this practice--a month filled with joy and pain, ups and downs, a speaking engagement, a family visit, exploring new places, the loss of a pet--I found myself getting ready to leave for a mission trip to Mexico (as a ministry team leader nonetheless) for our church high school Spring Break with a head cold, completely unprepared, and quite honestly, just empty.

I literally felt like I was just a body, showing up. I didn't expect much. I felt bad because I was afraid I had nothing to offer. A glorified chaperone.

"Lord, all of You. None of me. Please just fill me up, Lord. Now I really have nothing to give." This was my heart's desperate, quiet plea.

And my God showed up. Every day in a different way.

He showed up through the prayers of caring friends, old and new.
He showed up by bonding our ministry team.
He showed up in sweet conversations with students and adults.
He showed up in the bright, innocent smiles of children.
He showed up through 17 student salvations, several other ministry outreach salvations, and innumerable reconciliations.
He showed up in shared hurts and moments of vulnerable honesty.
He showed up in watching high school students get down and dirty and work, hard, without complaining, always smiling and willing.
He showed up filling the language barrier with real love, His love.
He showed up by filling me with the Holy Spirit in situations where, had I had any strength of my own, I would have pushed forward in my own flesh.

God just showed up. All week.

And now at the end of this trip, looking back, I just marvel. Simply marvel. I'm drained. I'm still sick. But I'm filled with a peace and a joy and a satisfaction that only comes from being an empty vessel used for God's purposes. Life feels abundantly full, yet I am keenly aware of just how empty I am in all the best ways.

Someone has spoken into my life recently about how she thinks I'm stretched too thin, how I should consider where I need to cut back. And she's probably right. Something has to give eventually. Right? Maybe? Maybe not.

What if our capacity for serving God and being used in His kingdom is simply a matter of how much capacity we allow for being completely emptied by Him for His purposes every day? 

                     By how long we are willing to sit still in His presence and be refilled for the pouring                            out? What if it's that simple?

I've heard people utter the phrases, "I can't do that. I don't have the money for that. I'm not gifted for that. That's not my strength. I could never commit to that. I can't give up that. I don't know how I can make that happen. I don't think I have the time."  And the list goes on....I've said all of these things at one point in my life or another. All of them. Believed I was in God's will saying them too.

But the truth is, my God doesn't fit inside a box of "I" that I create. I'm limited, but He isn't. I can't sometimes, but He always can. Where I am weak and empty, He is strong and overflowing. But I've rarely experienced His abundance because I've been too busy operating within the box of "I" that I create and I control--the things I know I can do, the things I know I am equipped for, the things I'm sure of accomplishing in my own ways and strength.

The problem is I now see I can live a good life accomplishing those things, a moral life, even a godly life in some ways, but I only experience the promised ABUNDANT life when I'm at the very end of myself with nothing left to offer or give, and yet I still say, "Yes," to God's calling, God's ways, and God's plan. I still walk through those open doors of opportunity He presents even when it's scary and hard, and I have nothing to offer but a vessel willing to be filled by Him.

I wonder how many of you are willing to let go, take a step of faith, and step into a "yes" to God in your life where you have no idea where the next step will take you? Where you have no idea how the details will work out? Where you have no idea where the money will be coming from? Where you simply have no idea, you just know that's where God is calling. 

I wonder how many of you will walk through that open door of opportunity where you can't see where it leads, but you hear God's voice calling you to come. Maybe you're tired, weary, expended, poured out, empty, yet He still calls. I wonder how many of you are willing to sacrifice yourself to the emptiness, the pouring out, in order to experience the abundance of how He can fill.

I wonder what stories you will have to share as a result. I wonder.

2 Corinthians 4:

 7But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves; 8we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing;9persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; 10always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. 11For we who live are constantly being delivered over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.12So death works in us, but life in you. (NAS)

Paddle Back Out

I watched my daughter paddle surf for the first time the other day.

Yes, you read that correctly. My almost-nine-year old hopped on mom's 9'6" board with a paddle just her size and paddled straight out into the ocean, into the waves. All by herself.

Kinda. I helped her carry the board, pulling it in and out of the water as she needed. I paddled out with her in the beginning. Watching, waiting, coaching here and there. I was gauging her fear, her ability, her confidence, and her openness to correction. It was low tide. She was in three feet of water at its deepest. She's a strong swimmer. The waves were rolling soft, no more than a foot or two at their max, but they were strong enough for a 90lb independent little girl to surf.

And surf she did! And I'm not talking a little ways off shore. I'm talking she paddled 100-200+ yards off shore. After a few bursts of advice here and there (and fully understanding the dangers she might face), I left her to explore, to try, to experiment. To learn. To adventure.

I love the water. I love everything about it. I want to be in it, on it, by it for the rest of my life, but I also realize that my loves in life may never be hers. So I've watched her since she was a baby, never pushing more than was necessary, but never allowing her to fear the water either.

And when we moved to California, water safety became paramount. You don't kayak, paddle board, swim, boogie board, or snorkel without being wise and safe and prepared, both physically and mentally. So both my children are required to take swim lessons. I would hope they can both repeat what I believe is the number one rule on the water: Never panic.

We bought them wet suits, so they could swim year round. Boogie boards so they could learn and feel the power of the waves, how they move and push and pull. Kayaks so they could build muscle, feel comfortable on a large mass of water, understand how you can glide across the surface. Snorkeling gear so they could learn what's underneath them, a whole other world of life. All the while, educating and dispelling fears.

Maybe more importantly, she's watched me paddle surf for a year now. She's seen me paddle out into waves and fall, crash, smash, duck and dive in the surf. She's seen me climb back on that same board and try again and again and again. She's heard me talk about how scared I was at times, but it didn't stop me. She's seen the exhilaration on my face and in my voice when I catch one, the triumph, the victory, the sheer joy.

She road with me once on the front of my board. I was nervous because I didn't want to scare her. I didn't want us both to get thrown off the board, and I'd be the reason she never got back on. By God's grace we caught a wave and rode it all the way into shore, literally. I actually had to make her bail off at the last moment because in my nervousness I forgot how to make us stop before crashing into shore. So I told her to jump, and she did, and she was shaken, but the thrill of the ride had left its imprint.

Now three months later, the conditions being perfect, she asked to take my board out. And she took it, and paddled, and actually caught waves! The thrill on her face when she realized she could stop paddling and the wave would continue to carry her was priceless. She'd raise her paddle over her head with both hands high and look for me, to make sure I was watching from shore, and I'd raise my hands in celebration with her. Then she'd turn, and she'd paddle out again and again and again.

And as I sat on the shore watching her, I saw her fall. Many times. I held my breath, bit my lip, and stilled myself to burst into the water after her should she show signs of distress. But each time, she climbed back up on that board. She never gave up. She wisely came in for short breaks when she was tired, but then she'd go right back out. I watched the waves wash over her. Watched her lose her balance. Watched her face sets of waves as they rolled unrelenting at times.

And I've never been more proud of my little girl in her almost nine years of life than when she'd fall, pop out of the water smiling, climb back on that board, and paddle right back out into the waves. She never let her failures keep her from trying again and again.

And for as much as I enjoyed celebrating her success, part of me more deeply enjoyed watching her persevere in the face of her failure.

And I wondered if God doesn't feel the very same way about me, about you, as His child, His children.

I look back at the circumstances and events of my life, and I can see how the water in my life has gotten deeper. The waves I face higher and faster and more fierce. But God has been gracious to me. He didn't throw me in the deep water first. He's been preparing me since I was a child. Small waves in shallow water. Small failures and small successes. He being ever present, guiding, coaching, watching.



As I sat there on the shore intently watching my own daughter, I could see my heavenly Father in my mind's eye watching me as well. Ever present. Ever on the edge of His seat to snatch me from danger. Celebrating with me, but maybe more importantly allowing me to fail, so I could learn and grow stronger, and try again, and persevere.



I feel my Father's favor and know His pride when I choose to persevere and never give up. On Him or on myself. Perseverance, gumption, endurance, stick-to-it-ness--these are the hallmarks of the faithful--the Hebrews 11 crowd.



Friends, I want to surf the waves of life regardless of how hard I fall or fast I fly. I want to surf. Not duck and cover, not bob aimless in the swells. I may rightfully fear the wall of circumstances that rise up from the deep of life, but I pray it's a cold day in Hades when I give up and settle for a seat on the shoreline.



Which means I must choose to take up my paddle, climb back on that board, and paddle back out. The last wave might have taken me out, washed me clear off my board, broken my paddle, and left me with a bruised body from the fall, and maybe the next wave will do the same. But maybe, maybe I'll make some adjustments, shift my feet, lower my stance, and catch the next one. And fly.



One thing I know for sure--my Daddy will be watching. He sees me. He knows exactly where I am in the ocean of life, and when I look to Him, His eyes are always on me. When I raise my hands in victory and praise, He raises His hands in glorious acceptance and joy. When I fall and look to see if He's there, I see Him poised and ready--sometimes with a helping hand, sometimes with an encouraging thumbs up, and sometimes with a knowing stare that silently conveys, 'You can do this. Get up.'

"Therefore, I won't throw away my confidence, which has a great reward. 36 But I have need of endurance, so that when I have done the will of God, I may receive what is promised. 

37 For yet in a very little while, Jesus is coming, and will not delay. 38 But you (Jennifer), shall live by faith;And if you shrink back, Jesus has no pleasure with you.

39 But I am NOT one of those who shrinks back to destruction, but I am one of those who WILL have faith to the [l]preserving of my soul." 

(Hebrews 10:35-39 Jennifer standard version)

This has been my life verse since high school, my motto in life, the driving voice I hear in the back of my mind when the waves of enemy voices come crashing with their lies, threatening to drown my will, my belief, my faith. I've been floundering here lately. Closer to the edge of retiring my board than I like to admit, but my daughter needs to see me keep trying, and my Father is still there, always there willing me to get back on the board and surf.



It's really for my own good and enjoyment that I do so. He knows I will only be miserable and slowly rot in my own self-pity, fears, and anxieties if I don't paddle back out.



So I think I will.



What have you been on the verge of giving up? your faith? your family? a relationship? a calling? a mission? a goal? Have you been benched for a season, and waiting is too hard, so you're thinking about throwing in the towel all together? Stick with it! Endure! Persevere! You may have unbeknownst little eyes watching you, but more importantly, your Heavenly Father's eyes are most definitely watching you. Paddle back out with confidence, knowing you are watched and seen by the undistractable gaze of the Risen King, Commander of Sky and Sea, and He's proud of you whether you fall or surf. Maybe the most proud when you fall and refuse to give up.



So take a deep breath and paddle confident. Paddle seen and known. Paddle like you are fully loved and life abundant depends on that. Because the truth is--in Christ--you ARE. Confident, always seen, intimately known, and fully loved every second of every minute of every day for all eternity simply because you are His child and for no other reason.

So get up. Go. Have faith. Persevere. Paddle back out.

.

A Good, Good Father

Oh, I've heard a thousand stories
Of what they think You're like
But I've heard the tender whisper
Of love in the dead of night
And You tell me that You're pleased
And that I'm never alone

They played this song at Xander's funeral. Just four months ago, this 8 year old boy's father raised his shaking hands in praise to our Heavenly Father--willing these words to be true.

You're a good good Father
It's who You are, it's who You are, it's who You are
And I'm loved by you
It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am

I've sat by his mother's side in services since then and watched her sing these words, tears pouring.

Every time I hear this song now, I cry.

Oh, and I've seen many searching
For answers far and wide
But I know we're all searching
For answers only You provide
‘Cause You know just what we need
Before we say a word

I cry for my friends and the deep pain they must bare. For the rest of their lives. 

I cry because how can they choose that song for their 8 year old son's funeral? What faith! What trust.

I cry because in my soul I have screamed at God, and I know there are still days I do not possess that faith and trust. Days I don't believe God to be good.

You're a good good Father
It's who You are, it's who you are, it's who you are
And I'm loved by you
It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am

I cry because even after all my temper tantrums on their behalf and my own, I still end up right back at my Daddy's feet, letting Him speak over me and into me.

Cause You are perfect in all of your ways
You are perfect in all of your ways
You are perfect in all of your ways to us

I cry because there's no better place to find Refuge and Comfort and Peace.

You are perfect in all of your ways
Oh, You are perfect in all of your ways
You are perfect in all of your ways to us

I cry because when the emotional cycle completes itself, I inevitably find myself with hands raised, singing the truth of this song. Believing it's truth once again.

Oh, it's love so undeniable
I, I can hardly speak
Peace so unexplainable
I, I can hardly think
As You call me deeper still
As You call me deeper still
As You call me deeper still
Into love, love, love

I can't explain completely in words how God always brings me back to this place, to this juncture, where I just know that I know that I know...my.God.is.Good.

You're a good good Father
It's who you are, it's who you are, it's who You are
And I'm loved by You
It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am

Despite all the compelling evidence that appears to prove otherwise in certain circumstances, I have a certainty in my spirit, as a child of God, that my Daddy knows what He's doing so much greater and better and more so than I can even imagine.

Cause You are perfect in all of your ways
You are perfect in all of your ways
You are perfect in all of your ways to us

If you're not a child of God, you think I'm talking crazy at this point. How does a "good" God allow evil, sin, death, war? There are many long answers to those questions. For me, what I keep coming back to is does a handful of terrible, nightmarish circumstances negate all the blessings of His Comfort, His Presence, His Help, His Encouragement over my entire lifetime? Once you've experienced, not simply tasted, what Jesus has to offer, how does anyone have a palette for any other option, god, or religion? It's like choosing to go with fast food when a Micheline 5-star chef is cooking dinner in your home every night for every meal.

You're a good good Father

So the Lord and I might continue to wrestle over this grief, these questions--and maybe you wrestle with Him too--but I was sealed by the Holy Spirit many years ago, marked for Christ when I made a choice to answer His call, take up His cross and follow. Follow hard at His heels. Follow without always understanding His ways. 

You are perfect in all of Your ways

And to choose to follow anyone or anything else always takes me down a dead end street where I sit lost until He comes and finds me again. 

Because, you see, I'm a child of THE King. I can question Him all I like. He may or may not answer--at all or in a way I like, but that does not change the fact that at the end of the day my place, my heart, my hope, my home is in His Presence, by His side, following hard.

So maybe you sit here grieving something of your own today. Because Lord knows, we grieve so. many. things. in this life. You're screaming at God. You're wrestling with Him. You're asking Him to answer you, to show Himself to you. You're crying in moments when you least expect it, and you're heart is heavy and hurting.

All I have to offer you is Jesus. Because that's all I can offer myself. Somehow, in some mysterious way, a relationship with Jesus is the only real answer--the paradox of finding complete comfort in the One you also place complete blame and responsibility. And it's statements like that that make Christ-followers sound completely crazy. I get it. I do.

But meditating on His promises, buried in His Word, singing praises to His name in the car, in my brain, praying for His tangible presence, needing Him to show up in small moments--that's where I am. And my friends, He shows up every. single. time.

You are perfect in all of Your ways

How? A text or phone call from a friend or family member at just the right moment. A song on the radio with just the right message. A time of prayer with the Lord where He just whispers back encouragement and assurance. Moments of mediation on scripture where I am filled with unexplainable peace, and I'm able to just breath deep His presence. I hear Him in the roar of the ocean, and see Him in the way a sunset plays across the mountains as it sinks. I see him in the caring words and hands of others, sometimes complete strangers. I see Him in all the GOOD.

Because the bottom line, He said it Himself, is that only God IS Good (Matthew 19:16-17). On top of Him actually being the manifestation of good itself, "every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows (James 1:17)." He is the definition and embodiment of Goodness, the Giver of all that is Good. Yet any worldly circumstances that cause us to grieve never feel good. I will spend the rest of my life trying to explain the conflicting emotions and ideas that I feel as a human with flesh and spirit, satan's worldly realm and God's spiritual Kingdom at war in my life! 

But my experiential truth is that God is good, and God always wins. Even in the terrible things that cause us grief, God wins--somehow, someway He always wins in His perfect time. But only for those of us that choose to follow hard at His heels, that make time for being rocked in God's rocking chair, that beg and weep for Him to answer. For those of us who persevere despite the set backs in our faith. For those who choose Jesus.

God is God. He knows what He's doing ALL the time. I only think I know what I'm doing SOME of the time. There are days I still think I'd rather do it my own way, that God doesn't understand or "get" me, that this hard act of Christ-following just isn't worth it anymore. But I never get very far down that path before I'm faced with a decision, an emotion, a circumstance that sends me running right back into the Arms of the One who I KNOW has held me before, safe and steadfast through the storm, the scary, and the hard. 

My life is a living testimony to the Lord. I can't even argue with myself when I want to choose differently, decide differently, or believe differently. He's just proven Himself too many times before.

You are perfect in all of Your ways (Good, Good Father, lyrics written by Chris Tomlin.)

I still persevere in a hard place these days. I still question in rebellious pride. I get it wrong and end up in bad mental places--A LOT. Maybe you do too. But eventually, I always come home to my Daddy, my Bridegroom, my Friend, my King because I can honestly say He's my truest, reliably safe place. He's where I belong.

Christmas Letter 2015

I post this every year for those of you I may have inadvertently forgot to send our Christmas card to. Enjoy and Merry Christmas from our family to yours!  .....

Dear Family & Friends,                                                                                                                 December 2015

Well, this was our first full year as Californians, and I must say, we have lived it to the fullest. Legoland, Disneyland, San Diego Zoo and Safari Park, USS Midway, Joshua Tree National Park, Big Bear snow tubing, paddle surfing, whale watching, too many beautiful sunsets to count--from the desert, to the mountains, to the beaches, we live California.

Weston turned six in August, and in September he joined Savannah as a kindergartner at Grace Classical Academy. God answered so many years of prayers on my part by giving him the sweetest class of all boys, brothers in make-believe games and soccer battles. But September 20th marked the best news of all for us, when Weston said the prayer to accept Christ as his personal Lord and Savior in his church class. The Lord has been so kind to this doubting Mama to confirm over and over again in very clear ways the presence of the Holy Spirit in Weston's heart and life, and the change in him is undeniable. I can't wait to see what the Lord has in store for his tender, yet deeply understanding heart!

Savannah is still my joy and lover of life. She's taken second grade by storm, turning eight years old in October. She loves everything and everyone, and while I still pray daily for her salvation, I am grateful for all the conversations we are having now about life and faith and people. Her heart is so tender and loving and open toward others that I can't wait to see how God is going to continue to use her to draw people to Him. She is a constant source of energy and life in our family for which I am truly thankful, and I have learned she sees value in things I overlook or take for granted. God is already using her to smooth out rough edges I didn't know I had, and for that I am learning to be grateful ;)

Joey continues to love his job, and we are blessed beyond measure by both our Chick-fil-A family here in California and in the corporate office. Every year that passes, I am more and more grateful for the faithfulness of the Cathy family to have built a business based on biblical principles.

But perhaps the theme for this year, the over-arching lesson for both Joey and myself and our children has been: Do the hard thing. Not just the next thing, but the hard thing. When you’re not sure which step to take next, step in the direction that is hard to go.  God has met us down that path so many times this year.

I cannot think of a time in my life where I have more actively sought the face and will of the Lord more so than in this past year. I have sought Him in stillness and patience and quietness and long, deep pauses of life. A life not busy. A calendar not full. A day not scheduled. And if you know me, you know how hard this has actually been for me to sink into.

We have sought the Lord in the most difficult task of finding a church home, a place to belong, friends to call our own. This journey has forced us to dig deeper into God's Word and challenge what we think we know. It has been the hardest journey to discern what is best for our family at this stage of our life. The Lord was faithful to finally open some doors in October, and we find ourselves finally at peace for a season connected with some awesome people we hope become lifelong friends in a church home that preaches the truth of God's Word without watering it down or avoiding the tough issues. Just the Bible--that's all our family really needs.

In August after much prayer, we bought an RV, and have enjoyed the intentional memories it allows us to make with our children as a family, seeing the beauty of God’s creation that is all over the west coast, but that too was a hard path to choose to take. God continues to ask us to trust Him with our finances in so many areas, but I’m so grateful that every time He asks us to take a plunge of faith He meets us right where we are and provides in ways we couldn’t have foreseen.

I've prayed with so many this year, had so many conversations, read so many news and opinion articles. It has been a hard year for many, for our nation, for the world. If I’m being honest, it’s still hard. Joey and I are pressing into the Lord and into each other during this season.  We’re holding our marriage and our children up to the Lord in daily surrender, with open hands, trying not to have expectations and to let God be God. A godly marriage is hard. Parenting is hard. Separating the truth from the lies inside your own head is hard.

But friends, it is also SO VERY GOOD.  Hard, but good.  Because in the midst of choosing the narrow path, the hard path, the Voice of Truth comes and fills your life with meaning and goodness and a sense of purpose and fulfillment that only comes from a Good, Loving Heavenly Father who created us, so He knows exactly what fills the longings of our souls. You find His mercies truly are new every morning that His forgiveness covers a multitude of failings, giving you the renewed joy to try again.  You find refuge in His strength and not your own.  You find peace in His plan, so far out of your control that all you can do is trust and hope and try to be obedient.  And even though the obedience is the hardest part of all, the daily moment-by-moment choice to choose the Lord and His way, it is also where some of the sweetest moments of life are experienced.

I wonder if this year has been hard for you as well.  I wonder if you have taken the easy path, the fun path, the path you think you deserve, are entitled to, the life you think you should be living. I wonder if you have nothing to show for it but regret. I’ve made that mistake this year, and I’m so grateful that every time I turn around to try and choose a different way, the Lord is faithful to place before me the same hard path I could have chosen the first time. The path He always knew would be best. I didn’t miss it. He didn’t take it away, and He was right there to walk it with me every. single. time.

So my encouragement this year is to choose the hard. For me, I have to choose to be still instead of busy. Some need to become active instead of being still. For me, I need to pray more in secret and speak less in public, hence the fewer blog posts. For some, God is calling you to speak out the truth in love instead of holding it all inside. For me, I need to learn to be okay with being uncomfortable, to get comfortable with being rubbed raw and worked on from the inside out, and that is a hard journey I am only just beginning. Some of you have been uncomfortable you’re entire life, never feeling like yourself, and God is calling you to get comfortable with Him.

Do you see what I mean?  What is hard for me may not be hard for you!  We are all so different, so wonderfully made, so perfectly created. What is the hard thing to sink into at this point in your life, as this new year approaches?  What hard path have you been avoiding that you finally need to take the hand of your Heavenly Father and just trust Him, walk with Him down that path?

The words of Jesus Himself, John 16:33, "I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble (guaranteed). But take heart! I (Jesus, God the Father, and the Holy Spirit living inside His believers) have OVERCOME the world!" (emphasis mine) Amen, Amen, and Amen!

Praying this Christmas season you can claim victory in Jesus as we celebrate His birth as the beginning of the end of the curse of man! The best gift of all because Jesus brought salvation for us all from it all. May you live a life of victory in 2016 choosing to do the hard things with Christ, overcoming and not losing heart.

“O victory in Jesus /My Savior, forever./He sought me and bought me /With His redeeming blood; /He loved me ere I knew Him /And all my love is due Him, /He plunged me to victory, /Beneath the cleansing flood.”

 –Bartlett, E.M, “Victory in Jesus”, 1939

Grateful every day Jesus took the hard path from heaven to earth, from earth to the cross, from death to life. Grateful he gives me a choice to follow His example, but also that He chose me to follow His example.

Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

Praying you fully embrace the abundance of good in the midst of the hard,

Joey, Jennifer, Savannah, & Weston Durham