Just Frances T 
mic drop: When a performer or speaker intentionally drops/throws the microphone on the floor after an awesome performance.
The book of Ruth ends with the happiest of happy endings. Naomi, who was left alone, not only had a daughter & son-in-law, but also a grandson! But the author doesn’t stop there. As I read Ruth today, I noticed that it ends with 2 genealogies. The first is in the text: “The neighbor women said, ‘Now at last Naomi has a son again!’ And they named him Obed. He became the father of Jesse and the grandfather of David” (Ruth 4:17). Just in case you missed it, it’s also repeated:
Salmon was the father of Boaz.
Boaz was the father of Obed.
Obed was the father of Jesse.
Jesse was the father of David. Ruth 4:21, 22
Boom. The story ends. Mic drop.
The Lord had written more than a happy ending for Naomi and Ruth; he wrote them into the genealogy of Israel’s greatest king and (more importantly) the King of Kings. God took a faithful life and turned it into something so much bigger than anyone could have predicted. Ruth deserves a mic drop because nothing more needed to be said.
As I read this, I was reminded yet again that when the Lord is the author of our lives, you never know where you’ll end up. This week, this year, this life will take twists and turns, but in Jesus the end is glorious.
I look forward to many more moments when the Lord’s masterful work in my life leaves me speechless.
It appears the Easter season has snuck up on me yet again. Since my son was born, I’ve had good intentions to make holidays memorable, but Easter just hasn’t come together. The closest I’ve come this year to doing something special for Easter is giving Thomas some Easter egg hunt training. But I digress.
Now that it’s upon us, I’ve been thinking about Good Friday all morning. I tend to skip right over Good Friday and move on to Easter. I prove this point above, moving right into writing about celebrating Easter. I find myself wondering today, “What is so good about Good Friday?”*
I’m reminded on Good Friday that the Lord’s gifts don’t always come wrapped up as we hope. Eternal life is wrapped in Jesus’ atoning death, my death to self a thousand times after. Unsinkable faith is wrapped in darkness and mystery, nagging unanswered questions. As the Christian “joke” to never pray for patience implies, patience comes wrapped in unfulfilled and delayed longings.
“But you’re supposed to tear off and throw away the wrapping paper,” you might be thinking. Sure, the wrapping is temporary, but it serves a purpose. A beautiful package says, “Something incredible is inside.” It beckons us to stop, pay attention, and anticipate. Such as it is with Good Friday.
We’re invited to pause and consider the theological meaning and weight of Jesus’ death. We stop and remember that this was a real man—a sinless man—who lived and died who chose to go to the cross 2,000 years ago, yet we still talk about him today. This death echoes through the centuries and into eternity. This is a day that matters.
I hear the invitation to pay attention as well. The tendency I’ve observed is to celebrate Good Friday by focusing on Jesus’ horrific trial and death. The watch bloody scenes from The Passion of the Christ or read the Biblical accounts, picturing the agony Jesus felt. But without a similar look at the horrific mess inside of me, it’s just another story. Good Friday only becomes “good” when it’s juxtaposed with my sin. When I pay attention to the sin that lingers, the parts of me that still worship false gods, yet are forgiven and cleansed through Jesus’ outstretched arms, I can see just how exceedingly good this day is. “It is finished” is the Good News.
Lastly, we’re called to anticipate. We envision the incredible gift that is waiting in our laps. The pain and darkness of this day will give way to glorious light. Come Easter, the tomb will be empty and Jesus will be alive and whole, just as we will in Christ on the day he returns.
Good Friday is good when we stop, pay attention, and anticipate the goodness of what is yet to come.
________
*I’d like to note here that a Google search tells me that “good” is an antiquated term for “holy,” which is really why it’s called Good Friday. The more you know…
I love the process of preaching. I love the prayer and research, the planning, and speaking God’s word to his people. However, there are two moments in the whole process that put a damper on it for me: the moment just before I preach and the moment just after. The moment after is one of vulnerability; I’ve just poured my heart out in front of the congregation and I have no idea what they’re thinking. The moment before is a frenzied, last-minute dash through my notes, making sure I know what I’m going to say and wondering how people will respond.
At least, that’s how it had been. I read a book on connecting with people by John Maxwell several months back that contained practical tips for connecting with others in different situations. One suggestion he mentioned was talking to your audience before you get on stage. Even though I always felt like there was one last thing I needed to do to prepare, I decided to try it.
Before the service, I arrived without last-minute prep to do. At least, I told myself, “You’re done now.” Instead of holing up in an office, I stood in the lobby and greeted people as they entered. I joked with the welcome team members. I made faces at babies. When it came time to finally get on stage to preach, I was much more relaxed.
Since that day, I’ve continued to make the moment before one of hanging out in the lobby and chatting with people. It’s certainly more fun than nervously rehearsing. Besides, it offers me a glimpse into where people are that day. Without fail, there is a general tone when I greet people. Maybe most people are happy or stressed or busy. Occasionally, everyone is having serious issues in their lives. I can get a sense of where they are and preach accordingly. It makes my job easier!
More importantly, it helps me to really love the people I’m serving. The morning of my last message, I read 1 Corinthians 13 in my personal quiet time. Paul’s words reminded me yet again, “If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, ‘Jump,’ and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:1,2)
No matter how good my sermon is, it’s not enough if I don’t love God’s people. By spending time connecting with people as they walk in the door, I remind myself that the most important thing I can do that day is to love them well. I believe some people don’t even come for the message. They just want need someone to look them in the eyes and say, “I’m happy to see you.” Warm hugs and greetings set the stage for people to hear the Gospel. When I convey that I care, it’s a tiny indicator of the bigger and more important truth that Jesus cares about them.
Since making this change, I no longer loathe the moment before a sermon. Now, if only I could figure out what to do in the moment just after preaching…
By the way, I’ve uploaded several of my sermons from the past couple years on my Speaking Page. Check it out, if you are so inclined!
My husband and I had the pleasure of going to see the latest live-action version of Cinderella this evening. I wasn’t too excited about seeing the film, but I’m a sucker for movie theatre popcorn. Put a bucket of its buttery, crunchy goodness in my lap and I’ll sit through almost anything.
I am happy that I went to see this movie, though. It is a lovely rendering of the story and the costumes were breathtaking. Elsa’s dresses will surely be on their way out in favor of the incredible ball gown Cinderella wore. Heck, I want that dress! But what haunted me as I walked out of the theatre were the words,
“Remember who you are.”
Cinderella reminds me that those words can have a very different meaning coming from different sources. From someone who loves you, those words encourage, embolden, and speak life to the recipient. Cinderella’s parents recognized her as special, kind, and courageous. Their words made her bloom into a lovely young woman.
From someone who hates you, those words demean, ensnare, and bring brokenness. Cinderella’s stepmother was jealous of the young woman, so words sought to wither Cinderella until she was nothing but ash.
Every day, we face the same kind of disagreeing messages. The Bible uses many words to describe those who follow Jesus. Overcomer. Co-heir. Gifted by the Holy Spirit. New creation. Forgiven. Saint. Child of God. As we learn the weight of and accept those names that God the Father gives us through Jesus, we changed. We grow more confident in our identity in Christ. You might even say that we blossom.
But there’s still the other voice. The one that says, “Are you sure that’s what He said about you?” Our enemy gives us other names. Failure. Insignificant. A hack. Runner-up. Overlooked. Too much and not enough. When we dwell on those names, we stay exactly where we are, resigned to our lowly fate. We wither.
Which voice will I listen to? The enemy is louder and more insistent. The false beliefs I carry about myself are louder and more insistent. But countless hours of reality TV have taught me that loud and insistent doesn’t mean correct.
One more name the Bible gives to Christ followers is “God’s handiwork”. The one who made us and is remaking us gets the final say in who we actually are. His voice, though often masked by others’, is true.
My prayer is that we’d listen to the words that bring life and hope.
Remember who you are.
Quietly tucked in between miraculous stories of the Lord bringing Israel into the Promised Land are a few verses about the transition as they moved in. I was struck by these:
The very next day they began to eat unleavened bread and roasted grain harvested from the land. No manna appeared on the day they first ate from the crops of the land, and it was never seen again. So from that time on the Israelites ate from the crops of Canaan. Joshua 5:11,12
I’m sure Israel was delighted to not be eating manna anymore at this point, after exhausting every Pinterest recipe they could find for it and long since growing bored with the taste. I can’t even imagine how many times their kids asked, “Manna again?” [Of course, we know from the Biblical account that the adults were asking that, too.]
But as of that day, that season was done. Manna was forever behind them. Now they not only heard about the land flowing with milk and honey, they enjoyed the produce first hand. They could see and taste and smell how good the land the Lord had brought them was. It would be silly to pine for manna when they had Trader Joe’s right there! [mmm…cookie butter] Changing the food they ate was just one of many signs that their lives would never be the same. This was huge!
As I reflect on this change, I wonder whether there was also sadness and fear. As one season ends, even if it was full of drawbacks, I feel a lump of regret. I think thoughts like, “I’m never going to see Jesus work in this way again” or “I hated that, but God showed up over and over again. What if it’s not the same?” Even as I slowly cull my closet of clothes that no longer fit, I feel a twinge of sadness as I think of how I felt in different outfits and the good times I had wearing them. They’re just clothes, but letting go is hard for me.
Sometimes, I need to remind myself that seasons are cyclical. Many things do return after a season. Friendships are rekindled. Sleep goes back to normal as my son grows. My husband and I reconnect after a busy time pulls us apart. In those cases, I need to be reminded, “It’ll be okay” and have faith that this, too, shall pass.
However, this passage tells me that sometimes, I just need to move into the new season. Not everything goes back to the way it was. Some friendships don’t come back, no matter how deep they were in the past. Ministries and groups that were amazing for a season change over time until they are unrecognizable. Even my wonderful son will never be the sweet infant he was again. [I can’t tell you how many tears I shed folding up and storing the first batch of clothes he outgrew. You just can’t prepare for some things!] It’s so easy for me to look at what was and try to hold on with all my might, as if I could just will things to stop changing.
But there’s a problem with that.
If I’m spending my time and energy looking back over my shoulder, I will miss today’s blessings. I won’t enjoy the new work God is doing. I won’t experience Jesus’ presence in my life right now. It’s good to remember the ways Jesus showed up in my life in the past, but I can’t live in the past. God is still at work and I’d hate to miss it because I was looking in the wrong direction.
How do we know the difference between something that will come back and something that never will? We don’t. At least, I don’t. I haven’t figured that out yet. The best way I’ve learned to cope is to pray for eyes to see and ears to hear today and pay attention. One thing I do know for sure: God’s not hiding. His presence is readily apparent when I slow down and pay attention in any season.
I pray that I’ll be present in the time and place where I am, knowing that Jesus is still working even if it looks new in a new season. He’s still God and he’s still good. I don’t have to fear that his work is only in the past. Faith tells me, “It’ll be okay. The best is yet to come.”
Many years ago, I visited a close friend after her first child was born. This was well before I had Thomas, so the baby routine was completely foreign to me. In all the baby accoutrements, I noticed a book of prayers for little ones. After retiring to the guest room for the night, I read through some of the prayers in this book. A couple of them struck me so much that I wrote them down. I came across the note today and was struck yet again.
Dear God,
Sometimes people praise you
With hands that reach up high.
And sometimes people praise you
With heads turned to the sky.
But I will simply praise you
In my own special way
By trying just to be your child
Today and every day.–My First Read and Learn Book of Prayers
Every time I read that poem, I am reminded that the most profound act of worship is to simply belong to Jesus. After working in ministry, I get so caught up in doing stuff. I fall prey to the idea that what I do is how I worship God. Was my message brilliant and engaging? I worshiped Jesus. Did I write something people read and liked? I worshiped Jesus. Have I been patient and loving with my son all day, not once getting mad at him ever? Worshiping Jesus, done. What about my eating and weight loss; did I do it perfectly? Way to worship, Frances!
Even though I truly believe that we do worship Jesus through loving and serving well, I find it all too easy for me to leave Jesus out of the picture and simply focus on results. Using my gifts well becomes its own end instead of a means to glorify God. Worship and following is reduced to “done” or “not done”.
As I read the prayer above, I am challenged to focus on Jesus again. I am God’s child because of Jesus. I am God’s child because of him. I don’t let that reality sink into my heart often enough. When I do, that thought fills me with the same gratitude that causes little hands to make construction paper cards on Father’s Day and macaroni necklaces on Mother’s Day. I’m simply grateful and want to do the best I can to convey that to my Abba the best I know how. That’s the heart of worship.
I’m also challenged to stop being so hard on myself when I don’t get the results I believe I should. My son is always my son, even when things are difficult. I will never stop loving him. Why do I assume that God, who is love and a perfect Father, would love me less when I don’t get it right? If I tried my best to convey the Gospel and no one tells me “Great message, pastor” at the end, I still worshiped. If my husband is yet again the only one to read my blog, I still glorified Jesus. If I’m not the parent I think I should be, I’m still doing what Jesus has called me to do. If I mess up and eat all the Easter candy (again), I am still God’s child and more deeply loved than I could ever fathom. When my goal is to be his child, I don’t have to fear losing his affection. I’m free to allow his love to sink deep into every fiber of my being, so that even on “off” days, I know I am his. Then I can rest in his presence. That’s the heart of worship.
I am God’s child because of Jesus. I just had to say it one more time. I want to praise him by being his child today and every day.
I stepped out into the night air and relished the quiet. As the gravel driveway crunched beneath my shoes, I couldn’t help but remember a similar moment months before.
Thomas had been inconsolable for some reason and after hours of using everything in my arsenal to get him to calm down, he kept crying. Matt was futilely trying to calm the baby and something in me snapped. I just couldn’t take one more minute of crying. The sound was piercing my soul, so I grabbed my keys and marched to the car. I didn’t even stop to put on shoes. I didn’t know where I was going, but for a fleeting moment I thought, “I can just drive and never come back.” The gas pedal’s cool rubber on my bare foot brought me back to reality, though, as I turned the engine over. Where am I going to go without shoes?
When car roared to life, it was a game-changing moment for me. The radio came to life along with the car and the very first strains of a song began to play. A song that I’d been wanting to hear for days, to no avail. Here it was, playing from the very beginning, when I needed to hear it most. I melted into tears as I pulled out of my driveway. I was just relieved that God showed up when I needed him in such a special way. I listened, cried, and drove around the block (which is quite a ways when you live in the mountains). When I pulled back into my driveway, I was ready for whatever I might find on the other side of the door.
I thought of that night just a couple weeks ago. Thomas was sick and inconsolable again. His congestion kept him from deep sleep, so he grew crankier with every passing hour. Now it was bedtime and he was too tired and uncomfortable to sleep. I also grew crankier with every passing hour and recognized that it was time for me to get out of the house, so I grabbed my shoes this time and headed for the drug store to find any placebo that might make me feel like I’m helping my son feel better.
I stepped into the night air and relished the quiet.
I remembered that night so many months ago and how God showed up at just the right time. I wondered whether he’d do it again. I started the car and waited with bated breath to hear the radio. When the radio began to play, it was not a faith-building moment. It was a terrible, yawn-inducing song. I let out a sigh and snapped off the radio in disgust. Looks like I’m on my own tonight, I thought.
After driving only a few hundred yards, I noticed how dark and desolate the road looked. Of course, living in the mountains is going to be dark and desolate at night, but normally I’d see lights from neighbors and passing cars. I checked the clock: 8:37. It was too early for the road to be this lonely. Since daylight savings time had just begun, I thought my car must be set to the wrong time, so I snapped back on the radio in hopes of hearing the correct time.
The very first thing that came on were the opening notes of that song I heard several months ago on a night where I was exhausted and over it, just like tonight. I laughed out loud and thought of God trolling me with the crazy circumstances that caused me to flip back on the radio at just the right moment, perhaps 30 seconds after I turned it off, alone, tired, and feeling forgotten. Seriously, God?
Then the tears came. Relief swept over me as I realized this was too much to be a coincidence. The God of the universe really did care about a mom who was tired and over her limit yet again. I was trying to hold on to him, trying to pray, but I was exhausted. That moment in my car, like the first night, reminded me that there are moments when I just can’t seem to hold on to him, but he’s still holding on to me. I get weak and tired; he doesn’t.
I listened, cried, and arrived at the drug store feeling lighter. My face and shirt were tear-stained, but I felt validated like a parking ticket. I wasn’t alone. When I arrived back home, once again I felt ready for whatever lay on the other side of the door.
It’s taken me so long to write this out because I just don’t think I can do the moment justice. I wish I had the words to tell this story, but I don’t. I hope that somehow, in spite of what I can’t articulate, you’ll hear the voice of Jesus: “No, I will not abandon you as orphans—I will come to you. I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again…”” (John 14:18, 27, 28).
My hope is that those of you who are tired and over it would be encouraged. Maybe like me, you’re trying your best and faith just doesn’t seem to come. Maybe you’re been praying and it feels like God isn’t listening. Maybe you’re ready to give up. I pray you wouldn’t.
May you be comforted by His Spirit, bolstered by His presence, and confidently hopeful in His return. He’s holding on to you today.
One of my favorite images the Bible uses for God is a redeemer with an outstretched arm, as he is described bringing Israel out of slavery in Egypt. The implication is that God is powerful and far-reaching to bring his people back to him. I can’t help but picture God reaching out to collect his people and hugging them close to his chest. The beauty of that image is that God still does this today. He still reaches out to his people and draws them close to himself.
One of the ways that I’ve seen him do this personally is through preaching. At its best, people can learn about God in a real way and experience his redemptive, outstretched arm through hearing God’s word explained. Unfortunately, at its worse, preaching can also bore us to tears.
With that in mind, I think through obsess about three pieces to every message I deliver before I step into the pulpit. I believe each piece makes the sermon have a bigger impact on the congregation. Naturally, in true preacher fashion, those three things are also an acrostic: A.R.M.
ACCURATE – I ask myself the most important questions first. “Is what I’m saying true? Is it true to what the Bible meant to say?” This is the most fundamental question because it goes back to what I believe is the purpose of preaching: to glorify and reveal God’s character, plan, and message to his people. People can’t grow in their understanding of God through inaccurate teaching. Plus, if you’re wrong about something, you lose credibility. Not everyone will catch every mistake, but over time if I’m repeatedly messing up and taking things out of context, people see it. If I endeavor to glorify God in my preaching, it has to start with being accurate.
RELEVANT – The second question I ask focuses on relevance. “How does this matter to every person in the room?” Even if I accurately explain the Bible, people want to know how it matters to them. What difference does it make to their lives? Have I thought through how it matters to me? I can up the relevance of my message by paying attention to the questions common to people (e.g. purpose, meaning of life) and shared experiences in our culture (e.g. major events everyone is talking about, including pop culture). I can also simply talk to different groups and tell them how to apply the message. A single friend mentioned that a pastor said one sentence to single people about why a marriage message mattered to them and it made all the difference for her. Suddenly, the sermon was worth listening to. I’m learning it’s often easier to avoid things that might alienate people in the congregation, a practice that is increasingly necessary as my church grows in number and diversity. The bottom line is that paying attention to the audience demonstrates that I care about them. More importantly, it demonstrates that God cares about their lives and has something to say to them.
MEMORABLE – The last question is my favorite, “Am I presenting things in a way that someone could remember in their everyday lives?” It’s my favorite because it’s the most fun, creative part of the process. I’m fortunate to be an environment where I can come up with off-the-wall stuff that somehow makes it to Sunday morning (hello Katy Perry music in church!). The struggle with this is to not cross into gimmick territory. A gimmick, to me, is something done for its own sake to make a splash (e.g. “Isn’t it cool that we did …?”). I want the message to be memorable, not the element. Even if the element is memorable, I ask myself whether it will point back to the message. My hope with using Katy Perry wasn’t to be cool, but to remind people of the message every time they heard that song.
My prayer in all of my preaching is that Paul’s command to Timothy would be true for me:
Work hard so you can present yourself to God and receive his approval. Be a good worker, one who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly explains the word of truth. 2 Timothy 2:15
Those are the three elements I look at in preaching; what about you? What are questions you think preachers/speakers should ask themselves as they prepare? What am I missing in my list?
I’m not a fan of waiting. I rediscovered this about myself last week when I had to have fasting bloodwork done, apparently along with everyone else in San Jose. Being super hungry fueled my impatience, so I ended up going to three labs in order to find one that didn’t have an enormous wait. I finally had my blood drawn 80 minutes after I set foot in the first lab. When all was said and done, it probably would have been better to wait in line at the first lab behind 19 other people (yes, I counted), but I couldn’t help it. Sitting and waiting doesn’t feel like I’m moving forward. At least going to the other labs felt like I would get in faster.
On a larger scale, Matt and I are praying through some huge changes for our family. We’re pretty sure that we’re being led in one direction, but it’s going to take God’s mighty hand to open doors and make the way for us. In the meantime, we’re praying and waiting…waiting…waiting.
A couple days ago, as I read from Numbers, I noticed this passage about Israel’s travels to the Promised Land:
18 In this way, they traveled and camped at the Lord’s command wherever he told them to go. Then they remained in their camp as long as the cloud stayed over the Tabernacle. 19 If the cloud remained over the Tabernacle for a long time, the Israelites stayed and performed their duty to the Lord. 20 Sometimes the cloud would stay over the Tabernacle for only a few days, so the people would stay for only a few days, as the Lord commanded. Then at the Lord’s command they would break camp and move on. 21 Sometimes the cloud stayed only overnight and lifted the next morning. But day or night, when the cloud lifted, the people broke camp and moved on. 22 Whether the cloud stayed above the Tabernacle for two days, a month, or a year, the people of Israel stayed in camp and did not move on. But as soon as it lifted, they broke camp and moved on. 23 So they camped or traveled at the Lord’s command, and they did whatever the Lord told them through Moses.
Numbers 9:18-23
Israel waited where God told them to wait and moved when he told them to move. Sometimes the wait was long. Sometimes they barely had time to pause before it was time to move again. Whatever pace God set was the pace that they traveled. The point being that they were God’s people and part of what it meant to follow his commands in the wilderness was to wait or go when asked.
I imagine that it wasn’t easy to wait, especially knowing that the good land flowing with milk and honey lay on the other side of their journey. Israel had moments of successfully following the Lord, but several more recorded in the Bible where they didn’t wait well. There were moments where they longed to go back to Egypt because it was better than “dying in the wilderness”. There were moments they tried to take matters into their own hands. But as we see when the story continues to unfold, getting ahead of the Lord or trying to move outside of his commands leads to disaster.
I, too, have varying success with moving at the pace God sets. Sometimes I have brief, glimmering moments where I’m completely satisfied with my current pace, even when I know I haven’t arrived where I believe God wants to take me yet. More often, I try to figure out how to get things rolling, just in case God is waiting on me to help him out.
I’m not gonna lie, I’m still praying that doors open and things move forward quickly in my life right now. After reading this passage, I realize that I need to add to that prayer a desire to be patient in the place where I am right now. Even if good things are on the way, I can’t forget that the best thing is to be exactly where God has me at any given moment. I still don’t like to wait, but when it comes right down to it, I don’t want to move ahead of the Lord.
If you’re in a season of waiting, may you wait well: with hope, patience, and faith. If you’re in a season of going, may you go well: with confidence and faith. Above all, may you have the heart to obey in both the going and waiting, knowing that there is nothing greater than being lockstep with the Lord.
You may not know this, but I can see a lot about what brings someone to my blog and what they look at once they’re there. I don’t see anything identifying [except when someone from Italy reads my blog. Hi, Danielle!] just statistics. A couple days ago, WordPress told me that someone looked at this post from 2011. Kudos to that person who waded through dozens of posts to arrive there!
Curious as to what it was about, I re-read it. I winced when I read the first paragraph, “I don’t know that I’m going to ever go back to eating sweets.” If that were the case, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I was ashamed to realize that someone read a post that exposed the fact that I didn’t get it all together four years ago.
In talking with people about the weight loss program I’m doing, I’ve heard several people mention that they or someone they know did it and gained some or all of their weight back. That thought terrifies me. I really want to be different at the end of all this, but what if I’m too far gone?
With that question fresh in my mind, I heard this song when I got into the car today:
If you didn’t listen to it, go back and watch the video. Seriously.
I needed to hear that. I needed the reminder that even though I’m responding to God’s call in getting healthier, he doesn’t love me any less when I mess up.
My natural response to my failure is shame because I’m afraid. I’m afraid that this time will be the last straw. I’m afraid that I’m worse than other people. I’m afraid that even God might throw up his hands and declare me beyond help. So I hide by refusing to ask for help and forgiveness. When I re-read my post, I wanted to quit writing about losing weight, just in case it didn’t stick. I wanted to go back into hiding so I didn’t look foolish.
God knows that we all have that response, which is why his word says:
For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.”
Romans 8:14-15
Grace means I am not a slave to perfection anymore. I don’t have to be afraid of being human because in Jesus, I am God’s daughter. Grace is abundant and forgiveness is real. There is no such thing as too far gone according to the Cross.
I ended my previous post with, “I will cling to God to satisfy me and comfort my fears [about letting go of sinful habits]. It honestly feels like letting go of a trapeze and reaching my arms out in faith that God will be on the other side to catch me. Easter reminds me that he can, and will, catch me.”
Today I’m reminded that whether I let go willingly or fall down because I can’t hold on anymore, he’ll still catch me.
So lay down your burdens
Lay down your shame
All who are broken
Lift up your face
Oh wanderer come home
You’re not too far
So lay down your hurt
Lay down your heart
Come as you are
Frances
Just Frances T 