Posted on by She Who Rises

From Doubt to Faith

Doubt is a place.

When I think about doubt, I imagine a physical space, an actual place. It’s desolate, gray and windswept with bare trees and flying dust instead of firm, rich soil – a place completely devoid of life. This place is where I end up whenever my trust Issues show up in my relationship with God.

Despite knowing that God is good and having plenty of evidence to back it up, I still question God’s faithfulness – whether God will show up in my most desperate moments. I even second guess the seal of approval that I inherited from Jesus. My anxiety sometimes overruns my faith, and when I look up, I’m in that gloomy, desolate place. In doubt, the creativity, clarity, wisdom and peace that I need to navigate life seems impossible to access.

My last post was a retelling of a recent dream. In it, I stood on a modern version of the biblical Noah’s ark. I was being whisked away from a place of danger and loss. Yet, anxious about all that I’d left behind, especially who and what they might think, I had lept into the water, intending to return to that forsaken place.

In jumping, I had rejected the safety of the Ark and the promise of something better wherever it was headed. And it wasn’t until I found myself carried away from the ship that continued onward without me that I realized how bad an idea that had been.

Though I busily treaded water to stay afloat, the hazy gloom of doubt within me – the doubt that had caused me to jump – made it impossible to know what to do next. I was stuck and alone. But then, the most amazing thing happened.

Jesus, who I hadn’t even realized was there, dove in after me.

Just like the shepherd searching for the single sheep who had wandered away from the flock of 99 others.

I didn’t even have to ask…

He found me, barely held together. Yet, after the considerable effort of reaching me, I was surprised to see that his demeanor didn’t show even a speck of frustration or anger. 

In fact, all I saw in his eyes was concern and clear-eyed understanding. My only response had been love, gratitude, and … wonder. Then, I woke up.

Well over a month later, it still blows my mind. I mean, what kind of love is this?

It’s teaching me that God’s love for me is thorough and unbreakable. This God knows me intimately, and none of what I do is a surprise or a burden that God is unwilling to bear with me or help me navigate. It’s helping me to see that there’s no scenario where God won’t show up, even in doubt. And it’s recharging my faith.

What about you?

How has God shown up in your doubt? 💜

Posted on by She Who Rises

Taking the Credit

Beads of sweat gather on my forehead and course toward my eyes, trying to blind me with their saltiness.

Squat. Push. Press.

Squat. Push. Press. Squat…

I push my butt down toward the floor and pump my body up, raising the weights in my hands above my head as I come up. I’ve been at this for a minute, huffing my way through a couple of 12 rep sets. The painful tension across my muscles is a good pain.

It feels good to sweat. It feels good to be back in the gym after a long hiatus… after completely falling off the wagon once again.  It’s been several weeks in a row now and I’m proud of myself.

Squat. Push. Press.

I watch myself in the mirror and think about how well my new job is going, how my hopefully well-rested brain is managing all that I’m learning day to day. I think about how life seems to be getting better in general, after the intense difficulty of the past 12 months.

When my thoughts return to the tension in my muscles, I consider, with inward approval, how I’m back at it – banging out consistent muscle-building workouts in the gym.

And with words I no longer remember, I say to myself some version of “Girl, you did that!”

“YOU?” – I hear, not with my ears, but inwardly, and immediately know that I’ve screwed up.

I pause mid-air. “Uh, I mean, um, not in that way. I know it’s always you God.”

The boastfulness of the moment before has evaporated in even less time. But it’s still too late. The contents of my heart have spilled out and it is not good.

I hadn’t even made it through a single project at work or rebuilt a muscle to flex, and here I was, already trying to take the credit.

God had led me to stop working, I thought, for a short time. Then I had actually lost my job because I couldn’t return full time. I wasted money on an expensive medical treatment that didn’t work. And blew through my savings and humble unemployment benefits. Yet, I didn’t miss one meal, therapy appointment, or essential medication, nor did I need to run from any bill. I was covered, completely.

By the time God told me to return to work (away from my prior employer) and I landed a job over six months later, I’d had plenty of evidence that I wasn’t the reason that I was still standing. The struggle had been real and I knew that the only reason I hadn’t lost it was because of God’s being in it with me.

There’s a reason the Bible says that pride comes before a fall (Proverbs 16:18).

Because it does. 

After that fateful day at the gym, before I even knew what was happening, I was off the wagon again – at home snacking and sleeping instead of putting in work at the gym. Unruly hormones ravaged my skin and my sense of normalcy, making me moody, exhausted, stuck in my negative thoughts and even more anxious all at once.

I experienced some scary deja vu as I was back to feeling bone tired after work, struggling to concentrate, getting easily confused by what I read and finding it difficult to follow along in conversations. I had fallen far and it was terrifying.

But why? I’d had the memories of the last year etched into my psyche. I didn’t need to relive them in order to be reminded of their difficulty or how I had needed to cling to God to help me through each and every day.

Or so I thought.

I bounced back, but apparently, I did need that reminder, and it was nothing nice. Thankfully, I know that getting the lesson now saves me from having to repeat it later. That is, if I don’t forget again.

Thankfully, this is the kind of God we have. One who doesn’t share the credit for miracles. But who also won’t abandon us when we forget to give credit where it’s due or, even, when we try to steal it for ourselves.

💜

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Training Days

At a family pool party, adults and kids alike playfully bounce around in the water, racing and chasing each other from one side to the other. Others fly down the slide, off the diving board, or stretch out in chairs arranged along the sidelines. It’s the height of summer, and for everyone in attendance, this party is a welcome distraction from regular life. Fun is the only expectation anyone has today.

On the sidelines, three girls are introduced by their parents and then walk circles around the pool chatting. Two of them are sisters who ask the third girl whether she can swim. “Oh yeah,” she says emphatically. “I can swim really well. I’m out here swimming all the time.”

At just that moment, as if on cue, her father walks by. In a moment of pure playfulness, he takes his hips and swings them in his daughters direction, bumping into her side. It’s a silly thing he does every now and again as a joke, usually without consequence. But this time, as his hip connects with hers, she is catapulted, fully-clothed, into the swimming pool to her right – in the deep end.

Shocked by the cold water and her rapid change in circumstances, the girl – the avid swimmer – flails about, choking down mouthfuls of chlorinated water while struggling to stay afloat. She isn’t consciously aware that everyone is looking at her, but nevertheless, on some level, she understands that she has become a spectacle.

Somehow, through squinted eyes, she finds an arm that’s extended in her direction, grabs it, and is pulled out. Once on solid ground, she bolts indoors, well away from the other party-goers, especially the two sisters to whom she had just told a boldface lie.

Locking herself in a bedroom, her immediate plan is to stay there for the rest of her life or at least until everyone else leaves. But soon after, a knock on the door announces her father’s arrival. He asks to come in and apologizes for embarrassing her.

He says he had acted completely without thinking. It never occurred to him that she might fall in. He tries to convince her to change her clothes and rejoin the party, which surprisingly, she does.

She doesn’t blame him for her embarrassment. She knows it’s her fault, or at least, she believes it is. Why?

Because she lied. She didn’t know God well, but after hearing adults say “God don’t like ugly” again and again, she had learned what ugly was and that it came with consequences.

Lying was ugly. Falling in the pool and the exposure and embarrassment that came with it had been a consequence. Extremely swift justice. And it would never be forgotten.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, that little girl was me. Only a few days ago, I was recounting this story to a friend. Afterward, we giggled til tears flowed down our cheeks. It wasn’t funny then, but it cracks me up now.

We were talking about the times when God had to get us straight about something. Talk about unlocking a core memory! This lesson sits just below the surface of my mind, flying straight to the top when the temptation to be dishonest comes creeping on the scene. The painful reminder of the consequences that came with that choice way back then stops me from getting out of pocket today. God nipped that in the bud … quickly. And I still don’t want no smoke.

It’s the same thing a good parent might do to keep their child on the right path. A cosmic spanking to remind you of what NOT to do. And it worked, at least, for me.

That doesn’t mean that it stopped me from ever being dishonest again. But it did make me quick to come clean and course correct, and later, as I matured, heed the warnings and reminders the Holy Spirit would send my way to avoid those traps altogether. 

It didn’t mean that trouble would never find me. But it might be true that if I hadn’t learned that lesson, the lies would’ve been what sent the trouble my way. I may never know, but I think it pays to be cautious about this kind of thing.

And to think, my earthly parents weren’t aware of any of it. God, my creator, handled it all just between us. It’s just one example of God raising me, right alongside my family, filling in gaps they didn’t even know existed. Spotting the dirty parts of my heart and rinsing it clean before anyone else noticed. Who does that?

God, Yahweh – a loving creator, Jesus – a selfless savior and a beautiful Holy Spirit, that’s who. 💜

Posted on by She Who Rises

Find your way back

In my sanctified imagination, I see a woman running through the woods, whizzing past the impossibly tall trees surrounding her. To make her way through, she squeezes between densely packed tree trunks, climbs over their fallen brethren, and combs through the thick and thorny underbrush that cuts into her clothes and the skin below. The birds above and the critters below warn each other of her passing, a raucous symphony happening around her. But they stay out of her way.

There’s no path or trail for her to follow, only the sun, moon, stars, and a sweet, small voice inside her to guide the way. She’s tired but can’t stand to rest. There’s no time to waste.

She’s crossed cities and seas, mountain ranges, and low-lying plains trying to find her way back to the pieces of herself she left behind. Finally, finally, she’s close. She can’t see it or tell how long until she reaches it, but somehow, she has certainty. She’s so close, she can feel it.

On the horizon, just beyond the edge of the wooded landscape sits the home where she left them. It’s the burial place of her emotions – something she never thought she would need.

Where she came from emotions weren’t a thing, and really, there were only three, happiness, anger, and sometimes fear. The emotional palette she was born with wasn’t useful or welcome. So, to cope, she buried it, not knowing that self-love, compassion, and healing would require them someday.

In their absence, she became cold, relying heavily on what was left, her intellect, to guide her. But when she met God, they eased her into the understanding that she was missing something important, something necessary to be who they made her to be. So, she had to go back.

She had run so far – around the world, in fact. She hoped this return would be worth it. She hoped that she wasn’t too late.

For what? She didn’t know. Could they be ruined? Become misshapen and ill-fitting? Completely destroyed even? But God wouldn’t send her if success wasn’t an option. God wouldn’t do that.

There’s silence around her now as she nears the edge of the wilderness. The chatty birds and scurrying animals seem to be holding their breath. As she continues forward, the treeline gets thinner and thinner, gradually revealing the simple home set in the meadow beyond them.

Stopping at the grass, she released her breath, only afterward realizing that she had been holding it. She hadn’t known what to expect. The well-maintained scene before her is a welcome surprise. Who had kept this place, she wondered.

As she gazed across the field, movement by the house caught her eye. The front door had opened, and something was thrown out of it. It fluttered out and down onto the front steps and didn’t move. She watched this happen again and again until the steps were barely visible.

Moving in closer, she could see that a vibrant mix of yellows, greens, oranges, reds, pinks and purples, a rainbow of color, in varying shapes and sizes covered the ground around the door. Wait, are those … flower petals?

She scanned the area around her. She thought she was alone in this place, but clearly, whoever was in the home was expecting company.

She figured that if she wanted to get hold of what she came for, she better get it now before whatever the owner of the house was expecting got started. With determination, she swiftly crossed the grassy field, closing the ample distance between wooded wilderness and the house.

Now nearing the blanket of petals, she noticed a small sign hung to the right of the door. In handwritten script, it said “Welcome” and her name. Shocked, she stepped backward, tears welling in her eyes. “This is for me?,” she said aloud. But there was no response. It was obvious, she thought to herself.

“Hello?” She said, cautiously stepping forward, hoping a friendly voice would greet her. But again, no response. She swallowed hard. In a split-second, this had become scary. But she had come so far. It was now or never.

Gathering her courage, she walked through the petals, gathering a handful on the way, and up onto the stairs, stopping at the open door. Just beyond it was a brilliant, almost blinding light. She looked away, unable to handle the glare.

A few seconds later, she tried again and now found it easier to take in. She couldn’t make out a distinct size or shape, but soon felt a warm, calming sensation course through her body, as if confirming that she was safe. In the space of a moment, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to be and crossed the threshold into the light.

Posted on by She Who Rises

What therapy taught me about God and anger

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. It’s almost fall, but it’s still warm enough to wear shorts. In this mild evening air, a brisk walk has me working up a sweat as I stomp my way through my neighborhood.

I. AM. PISSED.

Someone close to me was careless about a sensitive subject in a way that really upset me. And the worst part was that they didn’t seem to notice. It’s an old issue that’s rearing its ugly head yet again.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. My brain is working overtime now, trying to find the words to describe the reason why blood now boils in my veins. I survey the homes along the block as I pass by, taken in by the dimly lit porches and the buzzing insects that together create a calming, sleepy vibe. It’s a vibe I wish I could match, but I can’t, I’m too angry.

I want to go off. But I know that won’t help. It probably won’t make me feel any better either. The adult in me wants to handle this with care, carefully sussing out what has upset me, why, and what needs to happen next. But the child in me wants to fight, scream accusations with pointed fingers, and, when done, crumple to the ground in tears.

It’s the tell tale signs of what my trauma therapists call inner-child work. The child that lives within me, who was wronged all those years ago, is crying out for justice, and she has been all along. She’s been ignored for much too long and is now fed up… and flipping over tables. All the while, the adult in me is trying to apply healthy coping skills to an untended blistering wound. It’s a recipe for frustration and confusion, which, for me, creates anger.

Anger is work for me. It burns up a lot of energy that I’d rather spend doing almost anything else. It stirs up my imagination in ways that unnerve me. And I’ve found that even if I use that angry energy to push forward into some good thing, it only carries me so far before I flame out. Yet, I have to allow it to run its course.

Holding space for anger is a healthy thing. As difficult as all of this is, allowing myself to be angry and filtering out the noise to understand why, it’s progress. I’ve come a long way. I used to think that anger was an emotion that I should run from, in part, because it would be too hard to subdue the green hulking beast that would rear up in response. But also, once I started really walking with Jesus, I thought allowing myself to be angry would cause me to make him look bad.

A thinker first and foremost, I tend to grapple with the facts and perceptions first and deal with emotions last. By the time I’ve turned my attention to the emotions, they’ve usually been cooled down by the analysis, if I still even feel them at all. On the few rare occasions when that hasn’t happened, I’ve felt so out of control that I was afraid of how far I might go. It’s a serious shock to my normally cool, calm, and collected system, at least outwardly.

But when I first started working with a trauma therapist a few years ago, she helped me see that I don’t need to fear my anger. I learned that I could embrace it as an extremely useful signal. Because when it shows up, it’s a sign that someone has crossed a major boundary.

My issue was that I thought even feeling the emotion meant that I wasn’t honoring God. In my mind, I wasn’t supposed to get angry at all. But how in the world do you control that?

You don’t.

My reaction was to smother anger as soon as it started to rise up. So that’s what I did… for more than a decade… until I was challenged by that therapist.

For the first time, I actually thought about God’s anger. In the bible, both Jesus and the Father displayed a variety of emotions like joy, sadness, frustration, anger, and even, in the Father’s case, regret. They often used those emotions to communicate something important about who they were or the situation itself, like the crossing of a boundary.

At times, they definitely felt one way and behaved in another (just think of Jesus the night before he was crucified or all the times God held back from taking out ancient Israel). I realized that if I’m made in their image, then of course I’d have the same emotional palette AND the ability to decide how I wanted to respond.

From that moment on, anger was no longer a scary monster to be avoided, but a tool that God gave me on purpose for a purpose. I began to see anger as a signal and a call to action – an opportunity to make a choice. I didn’t have to run from anger or pretend I wasn’t feeling what I was feeling.

I could feel it completely and not be consumed by it. I could thoughtfully decide what the next action would be. And that action didn’t have to match how I felt. I could still think it through. Finally, dealing with anger didn’t have to be an all or nothing proposition. And it was freeing.

So yes, I am angry, but I’m also very much in control. Thank God.

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Ordering My Steps

Technically, I hadn’t left my bed for days. For four days, the occasional bathroom visit was the most active I got, and I barely did that. I ate sporadically, fell in and out of sleep, talked to God & tripped into a few holes on insta. It’s the same old story. A multi-day migraine, fuzzy-headedness, and ear-ringing triggered another depressive episode. But what’s pulling me out of it is something new.

Five hours after NPR posted SWV’s tiny desk concert to YouTube, I am randomly scrolling on YT, having forgotten why I came here in the first place (insert brain injury eye roll here). But once I see it, I immediately click the thumbnail. It doesn’t get saved to my watch later like usual, never to be seen again.

There’s an unexpected thing happening here. Something like joy is beginning to bubble up from somewhere deep within me. I watch Coko, Taj, Leelee, and Co. do their thing. I sing along, raise my hand, and bop around from my bed, in the dent I’ve made there over the last four days. But there’s a new energy rushing in.

As they sing their classic jams from my high-school days, without even trying, they begin to lift me from my lonely, sunken place. I start making plans for the future, making a mental note to check out tickets for their tour once they drop. Without any real effort on my part, I’m coming out of another depressive episode. And I’m grateful.

How did I get here? I might have an idea. Was it SWV? Was it the nostalgia of my high school days? Is this the formula for busting through depression? I doubt it. As much as I love SWV and the renewed interest in artists from my era, I don’t see this combination working every time depression rears its raggedy head.

What’s more likely is that the Holy Spirit – the Spirit of my Savior who lives within me – guided me to what would help in this specific moment. Just like those times when the Holy Spirit, knowing what I don’t and can’t possibly know, led me to the things, people and places, big and small, that would work out for me.

Just like with the jobs (plural) I got that I almost didn’t apply to or the dope outfits I found at deep discounts, despite dragging myself to the mall, outlet, or other place. Or better yet, the move I made to be closer to family, never suspecting the health issues that would arise and turn my life upside down.

There have been so many times when I ended up in the right place at the right time and knew that I couldn’t take the credit. Why would this be any different?

Depression is BIG trash. Period. End of story. No one would ever choose this. But I am so grateful that I have the Holy Spirit with me, in me, ordering my steps – leading me to what I need, before I even know I need it. That’s the real formula. 💜

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Just Be

What would it be like to “just be”?

As in, live “as is”, no changes, as today’s version – the exact same you that exists this second. What would it be like to be completely yourself without striving and straining toward some goal, some other version of you? Imagine it for just a moment. What’s there? What isn’t?

Is it enjoying a social situation freely without the pressure to make a friend, make a deal, be seen, or even unseen?

Is it exhaling and releasing your belly or the folds of your back to unravel, without a care, across the area below?

Is it placing a block on the past – a transparent wall that separates you from a joy, mistake, or trauma where your brain thinks you should live instead?

What would it be like to just be and embrace what is, whatever it is, right now?

Radical (self) acceptance. Would it be so bad?

Imagine that. A moment where everything that’s happened, everything you’ve witnessed, and where you are now has been totally and completely accepted… by the most important person, you. No bones to eat clean. No details to pick apart. Just be-ing.

I’m realizing that there’s so much more to see when I am present here and ok with what is. When I’m not obsessing over what I could’ve said vs what I did say or whether that thing will work out the way I hope or worrying about what new thing aging has assigned to me, there’s calm, silence, rest, and sometimes, if I’m honest, sleep.

Lately, this is where Jesus has been leading me. To “just be” is a whole new world for me… one who is either waist-deep in the past, picking apart the present, or running light-years into the future. To “just be” is radical.

So far, I like that worry doesn’t seem to live here. But I can’t say for certain what does. I’ve only just started to look around.

What about you? What do you see?

Posted on by She Who Rises

Beautifully Human

Here at the start of the year, I found myself teetering on the edge of a (yet another) depressive episode. In the last few days of 2023, I found joy in a quiet Christmas, a beautifully reimagined The Color Purple, and a simple NYE. But as the new year began, heavy rain and the threat of snow did whatever it does to my brain that shuts life down.

It set off the migraines, drowsiness, and fatigue that keeps me stuck in a dark room, huddled under the covers, barely coming out to eat or even bathe – much like a depressive episode. And with the addition of some unwelcome medical news and the ending of some important relationships, my personal cache of hope began to slip through my fingers.

This odyssey with my health followed me into the new year, along with a very real and recent job loss. Last year, my deeply analytical brain couldn’t muster the cognitive strength to do my job. I couldn’t even fake it. As 2024 approached, I tried not to think too much about how I would manage, much less overcome all of this, until I was firmly in the new year.

At this point, I am convinced that God has gotten me every job that I’ve ever had. In each scenario, there were too few options and resources to see it any differently. And through prayer, I had been reassured that the God that did that for me so many times before would do it again when the time came. So, again, I tried not to dwell on it… until the new year.

But when 2024 came, I felt overwhelmed that I didn’t have a single idea of how I would navigate any of this. To be honest, I’m still crawling my way out of those feelings. And you know what else? It’s frustrating as hell.

It’s frustrating to believe in a very real and personal God, yet still struggle with doubt and fear that makes me want to control everything. I used to believe that all I needed was to be reassured that God had it, had me, and all my worries would melt away. But more and more, I’m seeing that faith doesn’t exactly work that way all the time, or at least not mine.

I’m seeing that faith still takes work, no matter what reassuring words the Holy Spirit whispers into my heart in the quiet hours of the night. I’m learning that I may still have to hold on to the word even when I can’t see it happening for me, even when there’s no evidence that it ever will.

Sometimes, building this muscle of faith sucks. But I’m also seeing that it’s okay to acknowledge that it does sometimes suck.

So often, I want to push myself to shake it off or beat myself up when I find myself dwelling on the hard and uncertain stuff. I get angry. I get sad. I become unforgiving of self. But emotions are just signals to be investigated, right? And, make no mistake, they are God-given.

If I’m made in the image of God, in mind, body and spirit, and the God of the Bible gets angry, is grieved, or has any other emotion, then so can I. I have yet to see Jesus, the Father, or Holy Spirit try to repress how they feel in the Bible.

There’s no mention of Jesus beating himself up for being frustrated with the disciples’ lack of faith or after running the money changers out of the temple. I’ve never heard of Daddy God pretending not to regret that he had made people during all the antics of Noah’s time on earth. Nor have I known the Holy Spirit to pretend not to be grieved when I’ve gone my own way or made a mess of a gift I’ve been given.

They feel their feelings… they just don’t stay there. And made in their image, I can allow myself to do the same.

I can love God and still be frustrated that building and exercising faith can be hard, frustrating, and not at all fun. It’s okay, I can feel those feelings even as I keep walking forward with God. After all, it’s how I’m made.

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Faithing It

A few days ago, a friend sent me a meme that read:

“Does anyone else wish that Jesus would walk into your kitchen,  sit down with a cup of coffee, look at you and say, “OK, here is what we’re gonna do.”

My response? A GIF of Janet Jackson eating orange slices and saying, “It’s true though”. Because, really, who can’t relate to that feeling?

In a real way, the Bible gives us keys to living with wisdom and how to stay in step with God. But it doesn’t exactly provide a solution to every specific issue or challenge that we face. Thankfully, we have the Holy Spirit to help with that. 

But what the Bible is real clear about is the necessity of faith. Faith is the confident expectation of good. It’s believing that God keeps God’s promises. It’s based on trust, and both are like muscles. They need to be worked and stretched constantly in-order to be strong.

But pause… Who wouldn’t want God to break it all down?

Who would pass on God laying out the details of our future and how to move each step of the way IN ADVANCE? Not me. And, most likely, not you either.

Right now, I’m in a situation that worries me. This brain injury and everything that has come with it has me reevaluating what my future could look like, especially when it comes to how I will support myself. And it’s becoming clear that my current employment situation is no longer a good fit for a variety of reasons.

I’m holding on to my hope that it will all work out well for me. But, I’m not sure how any of the challenges along the way will shake out or exactly how to move.

If I’m being honest, it’s been scary, and a lot of the time, I feel pretty alone, though I know better. So, a one-on-one strategy meeting with an in-person Jesus would be welcome. But I know that’s not likely to happen.

In all honesty, I wish I didn’t need faith. Sometimes it feels like trusting God takes too much effort.

But then I remember my past experiences and the faith that I needed to get through them. I’ve dealt with things that were scary at the time that wouldn’t even make me break a sweat now.  And that realization reminds me that the strength that I have now is a direct result of the faith and trust I had to cultivate during those times.

Would I have the faith muscle that I have today, if I ever had that kitchen table strategy meeting with Jesus? Probably not.

I can now see that, without the scary, faith building experiences of my past, I wouldn’t be able to carry the weight of my current situation at all.

Or, more accurately, trust that God is helping me carry it and is guiding me through to the other side of this problem one step at a time.

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Beware. This is war.

Sometimes I forget that I’m in a war.

Life moves along at its own pace and my attention to that war waxes and wanes depending on what’s happening day to day.

When things are running smoothly, I often forget about it altogether. But when an area of life blows up, I am astonished, wondering what happened to my peaceful reverie, if I’m not offended by the disruption altogether.

But the truth is that the war is on-going. Like a frog in an increasingly warm pot of water, I’m right in the thick of it, even if I don’t realize it at the time. Whether I’m paying attention or not, there are plans being made and implemented with the goal of taking me out. 

Why? Because I have an enemy. Not an enemy dressed up in a red suit and horns. But an enemy who stealthily finds their way into the events of my life and tries to use them against me.

The tactics may differ. It might come through a tempting scenario – something I have qualms about, but kind of want to do anyway. Or it might be suffering through an illness, a deep reaching hurt inflicted by another or even an accomplishment that blows my head up.

Anything that makes me take my eyes off of the goodness of God and the path forward.

It’s treacherous territory. Because no matter what it looks like on the surface, best believe that the design is always to pull me away from God, in whatever way that works – pleasure, pain, pride, you name it. Because then, more than any other time, I’m truly vulnerable.

But thank God for the Holy Spirit and praying friends, because throughout the trials of the past month, I’ve been reminded that not only am I in a war, but that I’ve got weapons. Here’s some big ones:

1. God’s Name

Call God by his names that fit with what you need in prayer. Remind God of his track record in situations like this (there’s about 100 names, but here’s a few):
– Jehovah Jireh (God my provider)
– Jehovah Shalom (God my peace)
– El Nathan Naqamah (God who avenges me)
– Jehovah Gibbor (The Lord strong and mighty)
– Jehovah Sabaoth (God of Angel Armies)
– Jehovah Shammah (God who is here)
– Jehovah Rapha (God who heals)
– El Roi (God who sees me)
– Jehovah Metsudhathi (God my fortress)
For a reference, try “The Ultimate Guide to The Names of God” by Elmer Towns

2. Your voice and God’s word

Speak God’s word about the specific problem OUT LOUD. Volume doesn’t matter. It could be a shout or a whisper, but say it. There’s power in your words, so use it.
– The Lord has declared that he will restore me to health and heal all my wounds (Jeremiah 30:17)
– Though the enemy comes against me one way, he will flee from me in seven ways (Deuteronomy 28:7)
– The Lord forgives all my sins and heals all my diseases (Psalm 103:3)
– The Lord has given me the mind of Christ (1 Corinthians 2:16)
– The Lords heals my broken heart and binds up my wounds (Psalm 147:3) – God didn’t give me a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, love and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7) – If God be for me, who can be against me? (Roman’s 8:31)
– Psalm 91 is about God’s protection and help in battle. It’s a perfect add-on to any prayer

For a reference, try “The Secret Power of Speaking God’s Word” by Joyce Meyer. This little book is filled with scripture verses organized into categories that relate to life’s situations.

3. Worship

Who praises when facing trouble? People who know that help is on the way, that’s who.

Let God know how much of your heart he has and that you remember what he’s done for you before. Here’s a few songs for your rotation:
– Love you that much By: Mary Mary
– Still By: Mali Music
– My Everything By: Bri Babineaux
– The Worship Medley By: Ty Tribbett
– Stay Here By: The Belonging Co.
– Sweet Spirit By: God’s Property
– My Refuge By: Rivers and Robots
– Holy Spirit By: Jesus Culture
– Insatiable By: Kim Walker-Smith
– Do It Again By: Anthony Evans or Elevation Collective
– There’s Nothing By: Amanda Cook
– You don’t miss a thing By: Bethel Music & Amanda Cook – Open Space By: Housefires
– Highest Praise By: Amanda Cook
– Oxygen By: Steffany Gretzinger
– You’re Not Finished Yet By: The Belonging Co.
– Eyes on You By: Mosaic MSC

4. Repeat daily

You Got This. ❤