Have you ever asked yourself that question? Ever wondered if you were betraying one for the other?
I sat on the edge of the bathtub as tears streamed down my face. He was right, and I knew it. But this decision was going to hurt. Something would be sacrificed either way. I whimpered, clutching the towel. As he listed out all the reasons I should stay and not go with my family, I heard the Lord whisper, “Brandi, pursuing your call will take sacrifice, it will cost you.”
Now hold-up, let me give you some details. We were on a mountain vacation with extended family and they were headed on a long excursion to ride a Steam Engine. When the Lord asked me to stay home (at our rented vacation spot) and not go ride the train with everyone else, He was also setting me up to be a better mom in the coming week. If I didn’t stay back now to write and be diligent in the pursuit of what He’s called me to do and be, then I’d stress about it later in the week when balancing my three children’s needs would take precedence. My husband would be traveling and my all-in availability was vitally needed. There on that tub God showed me the sacrifice of my obedience wasn’t about choosing between motherhood or ministry, but instead was a balance of the two.
I still cried, because my insecurities were engulfed in flames. Insecurity in the shape of family photos without my face. Insecurity about the impression I was giving my in-laws. Insecurity about the questions my kids would have. Insecurity with my thoughts of doubt, of fear….
And I wrestled.
Have you ever wrestled with a decision between two important roles in your life? Come chat with me about it over at God Sized Dreams. I’ll share what I was really wrestling and who won the match.
I’d like to call myself a writer, but somedays I just can’t find a single word worthy of the pen. Words have been hard to come by lately. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started but not finished a blog post, or tried to write on my book projects only to stare off out the window — its all messy and empty… my thoughts dry up in the drought of confusion.
Life is like that sometimes isn’t it? We have days, weeks, maybe even years where things run smoothly. Crops of ideas flourish in the harvest of opportunity and we soar. Then… we don’t. It happens.
I read a post today from one of my most favorite authors, Emily Freeman. In her imperfection and random writing, I cried at its magnificent lack. Maybe we don’t have to have it all figured out. Maybe there can be more questions than answers.
Maybe that’s where love and community and diversity reside, harmoniously together.
In that humble place we all share, is the certainty of the unknown, the wonder of tomorrow. Maybe instead of fighting it, we embrace it.
I don’t have words to really talk about all that simmers in our world today… from snipers on city buildings to toilet etiquette in the department store… I just don’t know. And I, for the life of me, cannot find the right words.
Maybe there aren’t any.
I found myself in the countryside the other day, standing on a rickety old front porch. The breeze caressed the leaves in the most tender of ways, just enough to make the sunlight dance across the grass. It was a simple kind of quiet, breathtakingly ordinary. The echo of peace grew there, untouched by anyone’s complicated agenda.
I think, like the tall oaks and the wavy tassels, I won’t seek words. I won’t search for explanations or plans or programs. I think our search for the answer lies in the quiet, humble space of the unknown and we have to reside there to find it.
The clouds build on the horizon as thunder splits through the serene night sky. You can feel the fear on your skin.
Lord, my world weeps. Where do you find words to comfort those whose loved ones lie bleeding in open city streets? What do you say? Where is the storehouse of language to explain the ache left gaping in the souls of citizens whose trust is riddled with bullets?
What do you say to the friend of the officer who fired the gun? What do you say to the woman who’s son was the sniper on the wall, or the daughter of the woman who drove the get-away car? What words would be fitting to offer the father of each of these, the fathers of the victims and the fathers of the shooters? Where are the words?
Lord, my world is broken. The tension is thick and consuming. We are in desperate need of Your love. It sounds so cliché, so trivial, but I don’t know where else to turn. You have already given and poured out. You have sacrificed and reached across barriers for each and every one of us. From Judas, the betrayer, to Mother Theresa, the great giver – You love. You love across country lines and boundary lines. You reach across oceans and push through attitudes. You poured out for the black, the white, the Indian, the German, the Jew, the Gentile, the infidel, the Muslim, the young, the old. You love. Your blood knows no limit nor condition.
Remind us God. Remind us of You, your love. For there in the dawning of Your empty tomb is peace, hope — life. Remind us that we aren’t color or occupation or even genealogy, we are Yours. And You died to keep us.
May the peace of Your love give us a steady place from which to stand. Help us to steady our minds on the truth of who You are and nothing else. Help us God to keep our eyes on You and less on the trouble crashing at our feet.
There is nothing else that will heal these wounds, nothing. No program. No policy. No sermon. No, God, this hemorrhage can only be remedied by a transfusion of Your blood. No human word can resolve this conflict or ease the horrific pain. We will only find peace through an encounter with You.
“But I’m there to be found,
I’m there for them,
and I, God of Israel,
will not leave them thirsty.
I’ll open up rivers for them
on the barren hills,
spout fountains in the valleys.
I’ll turn the baked-clay badlands
into a cool pond,
the waterless waste into splashing creeks.
I’ll plant the red cedar
in that treeless wasteland,
also acacia, myrtle, and olive.
I’ll place the cypress in the desert,
with plenty of oaks and pines.
Everyone will see this. No one can miss it—
unavoidable, indisputable evidence
That I, God, personally did this.
It’s created and signed
by The Holy of Israel.”
Isaiah 41:17b-20 (MSG)
There are certain things that I hold dear. Things I really, truly cannot live without. They get me up at dawn and sustain me through storms. I rejoice over them and experience deep heart ache – sometimes all at the same time.
Love. Hope. Faith.
You can take my house, my car, cancel my memberships, even take my dignity. But if either of these three things come up on the chopping block…
I’ll get fierce.
These are the essence of my soul. Without them, well, I’m not living. But they aren’t guaranteed. Nope. They don’t come without sacrifice and they most certainly aren’t handed on a silver platter.
It takes protection to keep them.
Like the saying goes- Love is a verb. To keep love alive I must do and pursue and give.
To hold onto Hope I must fight off doubt. Literally. Anything contradictory is rejected and pushed aside.
And faith. Well, faith starts as a seed. Simple and small. But I must tend it’s growth and protect it from harsh circumstances.
Be on guard. Stand firm in the faith. Be courageous. Be strong. (1 Corinthians 16:13)
Hey! This post is part of a really fun Mob of writers. We take a one word prompt and free-write for 5 minutes. No editing. No long thinking… (ok sometimes I cheat here). And then we all gather together to cheer each other on. It’s crazy fun! Come check us out: Five Minute Friday
P.S. BOOK UPDATE!! Five Minute Friday book is nearing completion (I totally saw a sneak peak- it’s going to ROCK. Eek, I can’t wait to show you!!)