“When you are fully known and loved you have a home.” –Joel Ansett “…known and loved.” The words make my stomach twist and knot. I cringe and my insides curdle at the thought of being known. I shrink back in fear of being seen as I truly am. I’ve been scared of God for years. And […]
The struggle with anyone who chooses a more public life is that the fishbowl concept consistently comes into play. People stand around to watch you swim. The thing is, most folks don’t know enough about fish to know if they are swimming or drowning until the fish is floating at the top of the bowl.
Yet the fishbowl struggle is often a blessing.
I fear what our nation will become in the years of a Trump Presidency. I pray this nightmare only lasts four years. But I cannot live the next four years, hating the man who holds the highest office in the land. So, I refuse to hate. And it’s really hard to hate someone you are actively praying for; therefore, I will pray for Donald J. Trump. And I will pray for America.
Politicians and pundits are using stronger language than ever, and who knows if they ever mean what they say or if it’s just a brazen attempt to put their sound byte at the top of another news cycle. I want to be an informed citizen, but the news seems to be growing more dim by the day. As a result, our world seems more fearful than ever. So what should a Christian do?
The fight with fear and self-doubt is universal, but as parent, it seems even worse.
I’ve been reluctant to share anything spiritual or vulnerable lately, for fear of it being ripped to shreds by ‘the world’ or over-analyzed by Christians. But vulnerability is beautiful and it inspires me to do better; to be better. I’ve been walking around wearing shame like an overcoat. Each shortcoming and mistake has added to the weight of that coat, like one of those little playground pebbles. I took the pebbles at first, placing them one-by-one into the pockets of my coat. I was able to ignore them and continue to function, but even tiny rocks become heavy after a while.
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.