When Waffle House Became Our Mission Field

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Zachary and I had a rare 3 days alone together. His choice for dinner on night one was Waffle House.

“Aww, I forgot my sweater. It’s always so cold in Waffle House. I once was told that they keep it cold so you come in, eat, and leave. They don’t want you to stay and take up a table too long.”

His disbelieving eyes turned my direction. “Well, I didn’t say it was true. It’s just what I was told. It’s also usually pretty crowded in there.”

His eyes rolled the opposite direction towards the passenger window, grin spreading slowly.

As we pulled into the parking lot, Zachary shared a story from his last Waffle House experience when he was his dad and brothers. How dad gave him a dollar for the juke box, and he played Toby Mac.

When we stepped inside, no cold blast of air greeted us. That was the first thing I noticed. The second thing I noticed was the empty Waffle House. Well, empty except for the cook and 2 servers.

Zachary raced to secure his special table. Before I was fully seated, he had the menu laid out before him with his finger pressed hard on the picture of the All Star Breakfast.

“Really, Zachary? I mean that is a lot of food and costs twice what I’m ordering.”

“I promise I will eat it all. I’m sooooo hungry right now.”

The server arrived at our table laying down napkin and silverware. I looked up to meet his eyes, but he kept them mostly down. He left to fill our water cups and arrived back within seconds.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Yes, and clearly my son is twice as hungry as I am.” I proceeded to order. Zachary followed up. The young server kept those eyes mostly down. He offered a slight smile, but it seemed to be covered up by something else.

I watched as he quietly went about his job. Sorting silverware, cleaning pots, every so often, he would visit the procedures chart and checklist.

I began to have this “feeling”. This feeling where you wonder if it is your own feeling or the Lord’s prompting. I sort of felt that the Lord had a job for us there, but I didn’t know what it was.

Then there was that inner dialogue that started up between me and God. “Do you want me to tell them about you? What do I say? Do you want me to pray for them? What is their story? Does it matter?” Then the fear excuses began. “Maybe I just think you want me to say something but it’s just my own desire.”

I laugh at that one. I can’t imagine that I believed that really. If the prompting is there to share the gospel, it’s from God. No need to debate if it’s my own desire or His. His desire is always to share Him with the world.

I saw her eyes from across the restaurant. A twinkle. Almost like she knew something. She smiled, and I wondered what she knew. Her smile seemed to say we shared a secret together.

The cook stopped by our table. A kind, older man. He asked if we had a merry Christmas, said his was just fine.

The smile in his eyes looked similar to the one from the lady at the other side of the restaurant.

It’s like their gentle smiling eyes were saying, “Go on. Go ahead.”

Another couple entered. They sat at the bar, familiar with the servers and cooks. Their clothes looked rough. They looked a bit edgy. Maybe young 20s. I wondered if they were the ones I was to tell about Jesus.

I looked back at Zachary. His deep blue eyes, always full of joy and life.

“Mom, can I have a dollar to play Toby Mac?”

We slipped the dollar in, I watched as he selected his 4 songs for a dollar. Toby Mac got 3, Third Day got one.

The lyrics began to sing of Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Our server spread out Zachary’s feast before him. He brought my one plate. We bowed our heads and thanked God for the food and prayed a blessing over the cooks and servers around us.

That’s not part of our “normal” blessing. It should be, but it’s not.

Zachary shoveled food into his mouth. I reminded him he’s not an animal but a boy. I looked around and found the kind eyes of the woman at the other side of the restaurant. She was smiling at me again with those somewhat knowing eyes.

The name of Jesus being sung throughout Waffle House the entire time we were there.

We left without boldly sharing the gospel.

The following morning in Sunday school, a friend shared how he was witnessing to his server at a restaurant. I listened closely. Our Sunday school teacher said that at times he will ask the servers how his family can pray for them, which opens up the door.

I hear you, God. I know it’s no accident I’m hearing this conversation.

After church Zachary and I discussed the Waffle House experience. I said I wished I had been more bold and courageous to share, but that God always gives us the gift of praying for people. We might not have shared the words of the gospel, but we might have shined enough light while we were there to get their attention. Maybe we are to pray for each person there for as long as the Lord prompts, and the Lord will send another to boldly proclaim.

Throughout the day, the faces of the 3 Waffle House employees ran across my mind. I could distinctly see their faces, the expressions in their eyes, sadness in one, a knowing twinkle in another.

I have a precious friend who once said she likes to give the aroma of Christ in her work and in her life. Her words made an impact on me. I often think that when I don’t have the opportunity to share about Jesus that I hope my life gives off enough of His aroma that people will be drawn to Him.

Maybe that was our job at Waffle House. To be His aroma. Lyrics singing His name. We spread kindness and joy while there. But there was something more I couldn’t place. Then Zachary said it.

“Mom, I think we should go back to Waffle House for dinner. Maybe God wants you to go there again.”

“What? Waffle House for dinner two nights in a row?”

Instead of having the debate with God, I had it with Zachary.

“Are you just saying that because really you just want Waffle House again? And you are using the excuse of God because you know that will get me there? Or are you really feeling an urging from God?”

He hesitated a few seconds. “Well, maybe both. I don’t really know.”

I thought back to how those workers had been on my mind all day. From the moment I walked into that restaurant I sensed God speaking to me something. I felt His Presence there. I couldn’t shake their faces and that can only be God.

God may start as a whisper, but He gets louder.

“Let’s go.”

“What? Are you serious, Mom?”

“I’m serious. Now let’s pray because we are powerless without God. Only God can save, only the Holy Spirit can give us the power and courage.”

We got in the car, I turned the ignition, and we bowed our heads. We thanked God that we live in a free country where we can go share the gospel without fearing our lives. We prayed for each employee. We prayed that God would draw them to us and open up the doors of conversation. We prayed that God would make it obvious who we were to speak to. We prayed He would give us all the words and wisdom and that He would flow through us with power and might, empty us of us and fill us with all of Him.

As we got closer to Waffle House, I began to get nervous. How ridiculous. So I poured it all out to Zachary. I told him I felt nervous and that is simply silly. This is eternity at stake. This is someone’s eternal soul. I said the enemy wants me to be quiet. God wants me to speak.

“Zachary, let’s pray again.” He looked at me with questions in his eyes that received no voice, “Ok.” We bowed our heads again and prayed over our time at Waffle House.

As we pulled into the parking lot, Zachary mentioned there were a few people in there. But when I parked, there were two sketchy men sitting on buckets behind the store. They weren’t in uniforms, and they stared at us inside our car. Everything in me wanted to bolt. It was a dark parking lot, I was with my boy, and wanted to get inside quickly or fly out of there.

“Zachary, stop staring at them!”

“Mom, they look scary.”

“Well, just act normal.”

We got out, and walked briskly in the restaurant.

It was like we hit the repeat button. The same older cook greeted us. The servers were different.

The store was warm. 2 lone men sat over bowls of eggs and hash browns.

The server stopped at our table. Quietly he went about setting the place when I asked one question. “Did you have a Merry Christmas?”

He looked up at me, pausing briefly. “I had a great Christmas. I got everything I asked for. And better than that, I got everything for my family they asked for.”

Then the conversation never stopped. It was like a dam had been released. He went on to take our order. Zachary went to the juke box, selected 4 Toby Mac songs.

I noticed the cook bouncing a bit to the tune. He stopped at our table, “I like your song selections. I have never heard these songs played in here.”

Zachary smiled and looked down at his plate. I answered for him, “It’s Toby Mac. He’s a christian singer.”

“Oh.”

The server brought our plates, and I took the idea of my Sunday school teacher. “Excuse me, we are going to be blessing our food, is there anything we can pray about for you?”

Right about that time Toby Mac decided to sing louder, the server squinted his eyes, and strained his ears towards me. “What did you say?”

“I said, we are about to pray, can we pray for you?”

A brief cloud came over his face, changing his expression. “Oh, um, my grandmother’s not doing so well, you can pray for her.”

He walked away, we bowed our heads and prayed, then ate.

Moments later he was back at our table. Talking. A lot. I knew immediately, this was the Lord answering our prayers to draw to us those He wanted us to talk to.

We just chatted with him. The cook arrived. Never in my life at the Waffle House or any restaurant have the employees just sat and talked at the table. I mean even at Waffle House they know that you give space for the patrons to talk a bit, but then enjoy the meal.

But when you ask God to draw to you those He wants, all normal procedures are out the window.

The cook began to share about his life. His plans for retirement. His plans for visiting family. We listened. Actually, all we did was listen. Both of the men did all the talking and we just offered a listening ear and smiles.

The meal was over. I asked the older man if I could pray for him. He said, “No, thank you.” Then he came right back and said, “Yes, you can pray for my time with my family.”

As we paid our bill, the scary men from the back of the dark parking lot walked in. They sat right next to the register where I stood and smiled.

We walked to the car, and Zachary said the first word I’d heard him say in about 20 minutes. “Good job, mom.”

“I still didn’t tell them about Jesus. I wonder if I should’ve just asked if they knew about Him.”

He shook his head. “No, I think it was great. I bet Jesus is really happy right now.” He continued, “Mom, do you think God used us to be the seed or to water the seed?”

“I don’t know. We rarely ever know how God uses us when he uses us to be the seed or to water the seed. But we do know that we need to continue to pray for them so that God will send others to keep watering.”

The neatest part of the whole experience with Zachary is that we ended up having this conversation about how God’s love didn’t change for us based on if we shared about Him at the Waffle House or not. That God has this unwavering love for us and we can’t earn it by doing “good” things.

Yes, there are times that God is pleased when we obey. There are times that He is disappointed. But His love never changes for us because He sees Christ when He sees us.

It was that freedom that allowed me to walk in and walk out of that restaurant. Nothing I did was going to earn me more love from God or esteem me in His eyes. We do what we do out of a deep love for Him. And His love for us never changes.

And we pray for the strangers because that type of love He gives us is overwhelming.

“Mom, when I said we should go back to Waffle House, it was partly because I wanted to go but just a very small part that felt like God wanted us to go.”

“Well, God’s nudges are often very small.”

“Yeah, I know. He has a still small voice.”

I smiled, “Yes, He does, and the more time we spend with Him, the better we get at hearing His still small voice.”

“Zachary, I don’t know if you noticed this part, but it’s not normal for 2 restaurant employees to stand at your table the entire time you are eating.”

He paused contemplating this.

“Think about it. Has that ever happened to you before?” He continued thinking, slowly I saw his eyes light up. “No, never.”

“It’s just not what you do. You know as a server or a cook to be kind and pleasant, but you are to give the patrons privacy and space, but we prayed and asked God to open up the doors, to draw to us those He wanted us to talk to. And He did it. At night what happens when you turn a light on outside? What happens around the light?”

“Bugs come to it?”

“Yes, but I don’t mean those people are bugs. The light draws us to it. We are drawn to the light. We asked God to draw to us those He wanted. And we asked that He shine His light through us. We got to see God do that.”

I thought through the night that while I didn’t boldly proclaim the gospel, I could beat myself up over that. I could do what the enemy would have me do and focus on myself and my efforts.

Or I could resist the enemy.

Instead of focusing on what I could’ve done (in my own power possibly), I could instead focus on what God did. Only God could draw 2 strangers to stand and talk for 20 minutes at our table. Only God could cause them to comment on liking our christian rock music selections. Only God could do any of that. I thought back to my friend. Maybe we were to be the aroma of Christ.

We got to see what God does when we ask that He allow us to shine His light through us. We got to see Him at work. And I pray we remember that always. What if every day we left asking God to shine His light through us and give us eyes to see Him at work.

I imagine it would change everything.

The Struggle Is Real- For Your Children

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I pulled the covers to his chin, caressed his still delicate skin.

“Mommy, when I open up God’s Word, it feels like I’m in Heaven.”

Lord, give me faith like a child.

Matthew 19:14 “Then Jesus said, “Leave the children alone, and don’t try to keep them from coming to Me, because the kingdom of heaven is made up of people like this.” 

I knelt at the side of his bed, placing my hand on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of the breath of life.

“Lord, guard his heart, his mind, his soul. Protect Him from anything that wars against him. Plant your Word deep in his heart. Instruct his heart with truth even as he sleeps. Keep him following you, never swaying to the right or to the left. Step by step behind you.”

Brushing blonde wisps away, I leaned down to kiss his forehead, and gently closed the door behind me.

Every single day this child shows me the battle that rages in an unseen world. Without the sweet, tender moments, I may forget this truth.

When the tantrums erupt spewing fire on all in its path, I may forget where the true fight is fought. In an unseen world. When behaviors tank, when words dart with deadly aim, the enemy lurks.

But do not fear.

1 John 4:4 You are from God, little children, and you have conquered them, because the One who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.

So we fight not against our kids. We fight for our kids. We fight the real enemy head on.

I picked up the boys from school. Long, lanky legs climb over one another, backpacks thrown in heaping piles in the backseat. Three boys begin talking at once. Everyone fighting to be heard.

Andrew spoke the loudest. It’s a baby of the family trait – they learn early on how to be heard above the noise. “Mom, did America turn back to God yet? Because I’m praying that.”

“Don’t stop praying.”

“I won’t.”

A precious window of time is given a parent to see into the bold heart of a child. As they grow older, that childlike faith begins to tuck a little deeper inside. As I listen to Andrew daily pour out his love for God, I’m reminded to cherish this time. It will pass. He will grow older. While I pray he is always tender towards the things of God, I know that with age and maturity, expressions of the heart take a new shape.

And just like that, the child so expressing bold faith and sincere love of God, can lose his little mind in a fit of rage. I get it. I can do the same thing. I can read a devotion to my children over breakfast relishing in the Word of God only to close the book and come undone in a matter of seconds.

No matter our devotion to God, no matter how long we’ve been a follower of Christ, we are still sinners in a fallen world. And back to the cross I go. Reminding myself that it’s why He came and died. It’s why I’m so madly in love with Him. Because I’m simply incapable of being good enough. Same goes for my little dudes.

Andrew wrestled with Daddy, then lay tucked in bed listening to stories. Dad closed the door sending goodnight kisses and sweet dreams. I read to the older boys across the hall.

Moments later Andrew appeared at the doorway. “I need you to come pray with me.”

“I’ll come pray after I’m done reading to the boys.”

“Praying is more important than reading. I need to you come pray now.”

“Andrew, I will be in there to pray after I’m done in here. Now get back in your room.”

My voice remained calm and gentle (not always the case), and I continued to read. He stood at the door, eyes flaming mad, arms crossed.

He continued calling out, doing his very best to ruin our story and be sure to get his own way.

“Andrew, it’s not that you want me to pray with you. It’s that you want to get your own way. I am going to pray, but I’m going to finish what I’m doing first. You are mad because you aren’t getting your way.”

The enemy is crafty. When he goes to war, he’ll even take very good things and use them as weapons against us. In this case, prayer.

Oh, my familiar friend, pride. Nice to see you again. We’ve had many flings, you and me. You never tire of a visit.

Pride likes to battle itself. It likes to raise up an equal to trade punches with. It blows breath on the fire to create a match of equal proportions. Because pride to pride creates no true winner. If pride goes down, it wants to take another pride down with it. One way or another pride knows it loses. And that’s the thing with pride. Pride will fall, yet it will battle to bring another pride down with it. It knows that if it fights against prayer or the Word of God, it’s gone. Until next time.

Andrew went into his room. I finished with the boys. I opened up Andrew’s door and held in my gasp. He’d destroyed his room in a fit of anger. This is nothing new. It’s what he’s done since he was 2, though it rarely happens anymore.

“Andrew, I came in here to pray with you. I will come back in to pray after you have put your room back together.”

I went into Zachary’s room and prayed with him, giving Andrew a few minutes to collect himself.

Opening up Andrew’s door, the eyes which met mine railed against me.

“Mom, you’ve made me flaming mad.”

“Andrew, you aren’t mad at me. You are mad that you didn’t get your way.”

Pride. Hello, familiar face.

He’d put his bed back together, but he stayed on his chair. “I’m not going to sleep in my bed tonight.”

“That’s fine. I’ll pray over there.”

I laid my body hard on top of him, holding him close as I prayed.

The enemy is not my son. The battle is not between me and him. The battle is over his soul. A  heart that loves God. A heart that we pray constantly to love God more than it loves anything in this entire world. A heart to love God in such a way that it will never depart from God.

It’s not about me. It’s not about him and me. It’s not about the difficult road of parenting. It’s all about his eternal soul. The enemy knows Who holds this child. And while the enemy can’t have this child, he will not stop at tearing him down piece by piece.

So we pray. And we never stop praying for our kids. From before birth until the day we die, we never stop praying.

We must not lose sight of eternity. The battle rages. We play our part. But we are on the side that wins. Praise God. So we pray.

We are our child’s greatest ally. When they fight hard against us, they don’t know that we aren’t the enemy. We know the truth. We cling to the truth. We step on the head of pride and choose the higher road. The road of prayer.

Parenting is for the long run. It’s not for the moment by moments we find ourselves in. Parenting is to sanctify us, to model Christ to our child, to fight for them on our knees, to beg God on their behalf. In this process, we will have beautiful moments where Heaven seems to open up and shine down on our children. And there will be moments where we ask where that child went that once loved God so much. We must not lose sight or hope. The war is won. We have the honor of fighting the battles for our children. Not against them.

And then, just like that again, the tenderness returns. The child who acted out softens. He pours his heart out to God. He opens his mouth and God shows the glimpses of His goodness. It’s worth the fight. We just have to remember who we truly fight.

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Am I Really A Christian?

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Andrew has always had a sweet sensitivity to God, God’s Word, and all things Jesus.

Don’t get me wrong, the boy isn’t an angel. He isn’t perfectly obedient and free of trouble. At all. He is all boy. And he is 7. But. The boy loves Jesus.

He sleeps with his Bible. He asks me to read the Word to him nightly. He listens with attentiveness to Bible at school. Other than lunch, Bible is his favorite part of the day.

Andrew has asked for at least a year to be baptized. We’ve held off because of his young age. We really wanted him to understand that baptism doesn’t grant salvation. We wanted him to understand that baptism is a symbol of him dying to his old life and resurrecting to new life in Christ, a public profession of his faith, but not a seal of salvation.

A couple of weeks ago, we were driving down the road when he said he is so afraid he isn’t really a christian. He went on that he loves God and is so afraid he isn’t going to be with God.

We had the discussion on the level a 7-year-old could understand about how we are saved by faith alone in Jesus Christ. I reminded him of the verses we’ve learned. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved – Acts 16:31. If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved- Romans 10:19.

But I thought to myself that any religion other than christianity, there is always this question of “Am I good enough? Have I done enough?”

In christianity, the answer is No. We aren’t good enough, but He loves us with an unimaginable love anyway. We are sinners, saved by grace. This is not of ourself it’s the gift of God. (Ephesians 2:8) We couldn’t do enough. It’s why Jesus was born to die for our sins.

Before we accept Jesus as Lord of our life, we have to confess we are a sinner in need of a Savior. My fear for the children of this generation is that they are told so often how good they are. They are praised and esteemed to the point I wonder how they will recognize that they are a sinner in need of a Savior.

Over the last several weeks, Andrew has asked us to pray with him to receive Jesus. Again. We’ve stressed that when we are saved, nothing can pluck us from His hands. He’s afraid he didn’t do something right, say something right. We’ve explained that is religion, not christianity. Christianity is faith. God knows Andrew’s heart.

I’ve shared this before, but I often pray with or over my boys that God would grant them a “different” kind of spirit like He gave Caleb. One that is willing to follow God wholeheartedly. I want to raise wholehearted men who love the Lord more than they love their wives, their children, their life, their anything.

Last night Andrew and I read from The Jesus Storybook Bible (his very favorite). We discussed the story and God’s relentless pursuit of His people. Then we prayed. In the middle of praying, I said, “Lord, I pray you create in Andrew a spirit like Caleb’s, willing to follow you wholeheartedly.”

Andrew’s eyes flew open as he cried out, “Caleb??? Caleb? Oh no, mommy! I’m never going to be with God in Heaven. I can never be as good as Caleb!!”

I looked into his innocent eyes, and ran my fingers over his cheeks. “Andrew, you don’t have to be as good as Caleb. God doesn’t expect you to be “good enough” or like anyone else. He created you to be you.” I continued, “When I pray that, what I’m asking God to do is to make you love Him so much that you will follow Him wherever He leads you.”

He let out a sigh of relief, then he said, “But, mommy, I’m still so worried I’m not really a christian.”

“Andrew, do you love God?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe you are a sinner?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God sent to die for your sins and He is the only way to God and to Heaven?”

“Yes.”

“Did you confess to Jesus that you are a sinner in need of a Savior and ask Him to be the Lord of your life and tell Him that you want to follow Him?”

“Yes.”

“God knows your heart. You need to stop worrying. The fact that you even question it shows me that you understand that a life with Jesus is worth making sure you have. And I did the same thing when I became a Christian. I was so worried because it just seemed too easy. There had to be more to it than that. But there isn’t. It’s a gift to us. We didn’t earn it. It’s grace.”

He still didn’t look convinced, so I asked, “Do you want me to lead you in prayer again?”

“Yes, please,” he said sheepishly.

I led him for about the 4th time in prayer asking Jesus to be the Lord of his life.

And for many years to come, I will continue to pray for his faith. That it will be strengthened, matured, and that it will become his own, not merely an extension of our faith.

And this. This is Christmas. Christmas isn’t the season, the day, the gifts, the parties, the food, the decorations. It’s not the Christmas movies by fire with hot cocoa. All fun and wonderful.

Christmas is the most amazing gift we could fathom, given in the humblest of ways. God became a baby to grow up to die for our sins. Willingly. What kind of love is that?

So, I get Andrew. That kind of love is too much to bear, too grand to understand. To receive that kind of love freely? It makes no sense.

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When the world falls apart, this is how we take heart


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When I was asked to speak at a women’s retreat, the theme God impressed on me was Take Heart. I had no idea how timely that message would be. I had no idea why God placed that theme, that topic, those words in my heart. Now I know.

Last weekend, I spent 3 days sharing messages I’d written to encourage these women to take heart. To remember that Jesus overcame the world. If we are in Him and He is in us, the world can’t overcome us because He overcame the world.

Friday night of the retreat, I shared the first message in my Take Heart series. I got back to my room, opened up my news feed, and lay speechless over what happened in Paris. I’d been living in another world of retreat and in an instant pulled back into the reality of this world. This hurting, dying, sin-filled, evil world. Yet a world He overcame. A world He sent His Son to die for.

As I lay on my bed, I heard His words. Take heart, I’ve overcome the world. Renee, take heart, I’ve overcome the world.

In August and September I shared a little of what God was speaking to me. Judgement. Repentance. Return to Me. It was startling and unsettling at first. I spent the month of September seeking God more intensely than I ever remember seeking Him.

I began studying prophesy with more intention. I began to follow current events when I’ve always chosen to keep my head in the sand. I couldn’t any longer. God poked my heart. Hard.

God changed the direction of my ministry slightly during this time. I’m now the women’s ministry leader at my church. Not something I planned or thought I had time for. But God had other plans for my time.

Then God began speaking “wholehearted women” to me. Wholehearted women. Women who seek Him with their whole hearts, submit to Him, and follow Him wherever He leads.

It’s time.

Our world is changing. Fast.

We are living in our “for such a time as this.”

It’s time.

Time to grow up in our faith. It is time to become wholehearted women.

ISIS isn’t contained. ISIS can’t be contained by our efforts. It’s evil. But the time for evil is running out. Take heart. He overcame the world.

You know what will keep our eyes off of Him and make it hard to take heart? Social media. Everyone is airing out their opinions right now and it is down right splitting up the church and His people.

Church, we are forgetting that these things must come to pass. These things are not a surprise. These things we are experiencing have been foretold.

Matthew 24:6 And you will hear of wars and threats of wars, but don’t panic. Yes, these things must take place, but the end won’t follow immediately.

This is not a time to convince our friends of the “right” position according to us on the refugees. Or the “right” belief in our political system.

Proverbs 18:2 A fool finds no pleasure in understanding but delights in airing his own opinion.

We are fighting the wrong battle again. I wrote last week that we are fighting the wrong battle when it comes to Christmas. And we are fighting the wrong battle when it comes to evil in this world.

Sharing our opinions on Facebook isn’t going to change the world. Praying will. Staying encouraged will. Keeping our eyes on Him will.

The battle is in the spiritual world. We see it played out through evil here, but when we engage in arguments that split the church, we have entered into a war zone of defeat.

This is the time to mature our faith. If to this point, our faith has consisted of Sunday mornings only, it’s time to become a follower. A true follower.

I have no idea, none of us do, when Jesus will return. But I want to be ready. I want to have my lamps burning. I want to be found eagerly anticipating His arrival.

The world was unprepared for His arrival that first Christmas. I want to be ready and prepared when He comes back for us.

So we take heart. If we are in Him, and He is in us, we have nothing to fear. We keep our eyes on Him. We remember Who He is. We remember what He promises.

After speaking on taking heart all weekend, I returned home to find a gift waiting from a friend. It was a necklace with scripture to give thanks to the Lord, for He is good. His love endures forever.

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The women who designed the materials to go along with the Take Heart retreat used arrows and feathers. All weekend arrows and feathers reminded us to take heart.

I held the necklace in my hand and thanked God. The necklace had a feather. The tape on the back of the necklace. An arrow.

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Take Heart. And remember to thank God. He is good and His love endures forever.

No evil can remove His love. No evil can thwart God’s plan.

Evil is only allowed here for a time. God controls the time. God controls the plan. God is on the throne. Take heart.

Monday I was exhausted after speaking all weekend. Tuesday I was asked to speak at my church. How quickly I forget to take heart or give thanks.

Monday I began to panic. I had no time to prepare like I would normally prepare. I couldn’t rehearse my talk and work out the kinks. I’d have to actually….rely on God. Novel idea.

I asked a couple of ladies to pray. Tuesday morning I woke up and began getting the kids ready to leave for school so I could get ready to go speak again. I had no energy or strength I felt to give back out. And then God began singing the chorus to Good Good Father.

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.

He’s a good, good Father.

He was reminding me. He’s a good, good Father. He would give me words and strength. And I needed to trust in Him and rest in Him.

When we settled in before I spoke, we opened in worship. The worship leader began playing Good Good Father. And I fought back tears.

He is a good, good Father. It’s who He is. We can’t forget.

I shared with the ladies how God reminded me of that when I woke up by singing the chorus in my head. One of the prayer warriors of this group shared with me after I spoke that the Lord woke her at 3:00 am the same morning with the same words.

God never ceases to drop my jaw.

He’s a good good father. It’s who he is. It’s who He is.

Take heart today. Jesus overcame this world, so it can’t overcome us. He’s a good, good Father.

He is good even when the world is not. He is good. Give thanks to Him. His love endures forever.

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When We Feel Guilty If We Have Time For A Coffee Date

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Several years ago someone made a comment to me that I periodically think back on. She was making light, or making fun, of a conversation she overheard of another woman’s “important, busy day”. One that was filled with laundry and coffee with a friend.

I was taken aback, said nothing in response. I’ve thought of that conversation over the years.  Now shift direction with me for a minute.

About two weeks ago, the Lord did something very surprising in my life. But He began it months ago. Maybe years ago. At the end of the summer, I knew the Lord was telling me to lay down the book I was working on. I didn’t understand why, but I obeyed.

I stopped working on it. At the same time, I began to feel the urgency to pray. I wrote a little about it here. Mostly, I’ve held it close to my heart. It’s been a very personal and intimate time with the Lord.

I’ve not understood what He wanted me to do, so I did nothing different except spend more time with Him. Praying more. Studying more. Reading more.

In fact, so much for a few weeks, that I began to feel as if I were living in a false reality. My days that once seemed so productive took a sharp turn. I couldn’t quantify the efforts of my day. I knew I was exactly where He wanted me. I knew it was a season of time. I knew it made no sense, but does it ever make sense to us when we find ourselves simply sitting with Jesus not knowing what we are to do?

Restless. That was my heart. Something stirred and poked. Something I’d never experienced before.

I might jump back and forth a little, so stay with me. I think you are used to me by now. So this is no surprise.

This blog. You. Are my heart’s passion. Most of you I have never seen in person. Most of you I’ve never spoken with. Most of you I may never have an interaction with. But I love you. Truly love you. I pray for you constantly. My heart aches to encourage you to see God, to walk with Him intimately. But I just wish I could really see you. I want to hear your stories. I want to hear what God is doing in your life. Your stories would increase my faith and encourage me to walk faithful step by faithful step.

Then I started speaking. And the love for leading women only increased. Now I had a tiny glimpse of your stories. When you come talk to me afterwards and tell me how God spoke to you, you have no idea what that does to my faith. My passion for sharing with women.

My love for leading women has never waned. Writing on this blog has never one time felt like work. Preparing to speak has never one time felt like work. It is pure and utter joy. When I pray I thank God that He has allowed me this privilege.

During these past few months, I’ve known God was preparing me for something, but I’ve not known what it was. About 2 weeks ago, He showed me. And it was to lead the women’s ministry in my church.

One day I am going to share the neatest God story with you about this. But today is not the time.

I’m continuing to write here at the same pace I’ve always written. Basically, whenever the Lord directs. Once, twice, sometimes three times a week. It’s nice having no pressure to keep a schedule with you. Thank you for that gift.

I’m continuing to speak at any invitation the Lord brings. It’s one of the greatest surprise loves of my life. An area of ministry I once thanked God for not calling me into. He likely laughed as He thought, “Just wait.” Grateful for a God who laughs with me and pushes me to go to the place that feels foreign and terrifying.

And to this point, I wonder if you are thinking, “I don’t care to read a post all about her.” I hope not, but I felt I had to in order to lead you where I’m going with this post.

When I accepted the role as women’s ministry leader, my mind began to race. The passion and excitement, the opportunity, felt exhilarating. I love leading women to follow Jesus. Our church is amazing! We have an incredible foundation laid already. And the women in our church. Impossible not to love.

I woke from a dream and remembered the details and the Lord’s instruction. I fell back asleep and awoke to have forgotten the details, but the Lord’s instruction was clear. He said, “Abide in Me. Lead by example.” Here I was going into go mode, and God does what He does best. He goes against the natural process. Basically, He said, “It’s not go time. It’s abide in Me. Nothing changes. Show how.”

The last 2 weeks have been crazy busy. The next two are insane as I prepare to speak at a women’s retreat…5 sessions. And God is saying, “Abide.” And I’m all like, “But God! Don’t you see how much I have to do right now??”

Abide.

Abide in Me.

I’m trying to obey. It’s hard. Back to how I started this post.

2 weeks ago I had a lunch date I hadn’t planned for that day and a phone call with a friend not on my calendar. The two combined took up 3 of my 6 work hours. It ended up being the most important hours of my day apart from reading God’s Word.

Honestly. I didn’t plan for it. I didn’t have time for it. God spoke to me through both. The blessings were tremendous. Impossible to quantify.

Relationships. It’s the first thing we push aside when life gets busy.

Over the last 2 weeks I’ve become a professional coffee drinker. I think I’ve had a coffee meeting a day as I’m getting to know women at the church or work on various projects the Lord is bringing to me. I come away each time simply overwhelmed by what God does in a coffee date.

I remembered back to how I started this post. An “important” day couldn’t possibly be a coffee date. It’s too frivolous and luxurious. Life is too busy for much of that.

I disagree. When life is too busy to have coffee with a friend, something should change. I didn’t realize this until I spent the last 2 weeks having coffee dates with women I’m only now getting to know. Hearing their stories, and wanting to hear more.

We need each other. Desperately.

It’s not luxurious to schedule time to sit face to face or sit ear to ear on the phone. It could be the most important appointment of your day.

As women we can feel guilty if we make time to take a walk, meet for coffee, or chat on the phone. I say no more.

It’s that rebel girl that lives in me. We were created for relationship. In today’s culture, we kind of have to fight for it.

In a world that says to be important you must be crazy busy, I’m saying let’s let our crazy busy be sitting with Jesus and sitting with each other.

I say this on a day I had to reschedule a lunch with my two closest friends who wanted to take me out for my birthday. In some ways, it’s pretty ironic. But the thing is, I know the grace these two girls have. I know they fully understand where I am right now. The beauty of relationships. Lots of grace given when investments have been made.

Relationships. A gift. Such a gift. Worth every second of investment.

At 39 years old (as of yesterday), I’m only now beginning to see how the most seemingly insignificant uses of time are the most enriching.

To the world, we seem unimportant when our calendar is full of relationship kind of stuff. But we serve a God who does things upside down and inside out. Jesus was all about relationships.

Ultimately, I want to be like Jesus.

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A bowl of memories – when you want to give the best birthday gift ever

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Yesterday Steve turned 40. It’s interesting, this turning of another decade.

From 30 to 40 feels like 3 years. It might have been the fastest decade to this point.

My friend, Adina (you may know her as Take Them A Meal), gave me an idea I’ve been holding onto for Steve’s 40th. A gift that money can’t buy, one to hold for life.

I asked friends and family to send me a favorite memory of Steve. Over the last several days, the memories poured in. I laughed. I cried. I sighed. I pondered. More than anything, I was humbled. And I couldn’t wait for Steve to read the words of people who care so much for him.

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To celebrate Steve’s 40th, we cooked his favorite dinner. Country fried steak and gravy (something I only make every couple of years…too much grease, too much work), Pioneer Woman’s mac and cheese (the best ever ever ever), green beans, and biscuits. Topped off with pound cake, strawberries, and ice cream. Wishing you were with us?? It was every bite delicious. Worth every bit of all the hours it took to make.

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Steve’s a simple man. And birthdays in our home are a simple affair as you can see from the decor. We take what we have and make the best of it. If you didn’t know better, you might think we were celebrating the 101st day of school rather than a 40th.

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While we ate dinner, we explained that we had asked people to send us a memory. We passed the bowl of memories to Steve and watched each one transform his face.

He was two sentences in on the first memory card when the tears appeared.

I couldn’t take my eyes off our boys as they watched the emotional, tender side of dad on full display. Letter after letter, words upon words, each one unique in its own way.

A common theme presented itself in those memories. The little things matter. People matter. Relationships are priority.

This is what we were made for. Relationship.

I was struck by the sentiment in those letters. What stood out in many of the shared memories was that Steve cared. He simply cared.

He cared enough to ask about people and actually take the time to listen. He cared enough to pray for them. He cared enough to include them when others might not have. He loved first. He was slow to speak and quick to listen. He cared enough to not let differences in beliefs hinder the friendship.

No matter what memory was written, all I heard was, “he cared so much about me…..”

Don’t we all want to know someone cares? 

After the bowl of memories lay open and exposed on the table, one thought remained. The little things matter. The simple ways we treat people matter.

Don’t discount the small.

Relationships. We were made to be in relationship with God and people. People matter.

The little things are bigger than we will ever realize. The words we choose to speak. The look we choose to give. The leaning in when leaning away is easiest.

We care big through the littles.

As the evening came to a close, I saw how moved Steve was by the words now written for him to hold onto.

Words matter.

A sampling of the little ways Steve’s impacted the lives of others are now written. He has them to hold onto, to remember again. To be encouraged when he needs encouragement. To be reminded how important the smallest things really are.

Rarely do we take the time to tell someone how they have impacted our lives. I can list 100 different ways people have shaped my thoughts and my heart by the tiny examples they’ve served me. Yet, I rarely tell the person.

What a gift to hear that how we treat people matters. How we invest in relationships is immeasurable.

The notes the boys wrote Steve were priceless. Each boy told me there is no favorite memory because there are just too many. They eventually settled on one each and wrote heartfelt letters. But Andrew’s letter was precious. He wrote every single word, and it started with “Dad, this is Andrew.” 🙂 Precious. He ended the letter with, “I love you because you love us first.”

We all want to be loved first. And we are. And that is why we can love. 

We love each other because he loved us first.

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Love well. Love hard. Love deep. 

Love in the little ways because they dig the deepest roots.

Love others today well. Let them know they matter in the smallest of ways. You may never know the impact you are making, but when you are investing in relationships, you are changing the world.

If you want to give someone the very best birthday gift ever, make them a bowl of memories. Collect little notes from people in their life. I promise it will be one of the best gifts they will ever receive.

We all want to know we are making a difference. And when we see how deeply we are impacting hearts, it wrecks our own heart.

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What if the best moments are the ones we’d never choose?

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I frequently find myself in moments I would not choose if given the choice. That awkward conversation that must take place. That tantrum throwing point of no return. That seat assigned among strangers that all know each other. That piece of information shared I wish I didn’t know and sit wondering what to do with it now.

Moment after moment after moment we find ourselves in an array of situations. Some days I want to throw my hands in the air and say, “Lord, today can I just have everything fall into perfect place?”

Essentially, I’m asking for life to be just the way I think is best. But I’m learning each day that the very best might be the last thing I would choose.

Join me over at Lift Up Your Day where I’m writing about what it would look like if we could handpick our moments.

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