Peace is an assurance that in the midst of hell breaking loose: shootings in Paris and Colorado Springs, war in Syria and acts of terrorism each time we turn on the television, God remains. God is not being terrorized. Heartbroken, definitely. But not uncertain or afraid. I think Heaven weeps, but God knows the beginning from the end. Peace says that things will get better one day. Our waiting will be worth it.
Anxiety is no lightweight. A friend of mine once said, “It’s not your Grandma’s kind of worry.” Punches are thrown to the righteous and the unrighteous alike, and I’ve taken plenty of blows to the chin. If anything, my experience with anxiety is even more tumultuous when I question it from a Christian perspective. I am constantly trying to be faithful, to do all the right things, and still I walk around with that tightness that envelopes the back of my throat. Scripture promises a garment of praise for a spirit of heaviness. I think I’d like to cash in that particular promise right about now.
There is no storm that isn’t subject to His whisper and there is no furnace where He will ever fail to join His children.
I am learning that the miracle of God may not always come in the way I was taught as a child, with a laying on of hands and oil and shouts; the miracle of God, more often than not, may be that He is absolutely willing to walk with me through every Valley.
Own your mistakes and the fact that they affect other people. We all mess up: some of us more than others and some of us make mistakes that seem “bigger” than others, but we all make mistakes. We can’t blame family history or former friends or employers or the government or God on the choices we make. We all make choices and sometimes we make the wrong ones. The best thing any of us can do is focus on today and the people who love us: those who push us to be our best and love us even at our worst.
After Ben’s birth in September 2011, I suffered from severe sleep deprivation, psychosis, and postpartum depression.
It was the darkest time in my life. I was hospitalized for nearly 2 weeks and separated from my newborn for most of that time. The situation was completely beyond my control but I felt so much shame over it. With the help of good doctors and my amazing family I began to recover and finally feel like myself again.
Standing in the ultrasound room recently with my bride, my little boy, my mother-in-law, and our precious friends Zane and Hannah was (as Zane put it) “surreal”. Toes, fingers, ears, eyes, lips, so many details…Ribs were clearly seen and I was fascinated with the baby’s spine. The anticipation was high, waiting to hear if it was […]
This is a guest post by someone I think the world of. The author asked to remain anonymous for now, and I completely respect that decision. We are all at different points in our journey. –Steve I am a perfect person. Well, if you ask just about anyone. I was the kid that teachers adored […]