Tag Archives: Jesus

i need Jesus (my prayer for deeper)

“I need 2018 to be different.” That’s what I said to God in the last hours of 2017. I said it to Him because I know it’s pointless to say it to myself. With age comes experience and I have experienced enough broken promises to myself, so I’ve stopped making them. Promises. Resolutions. Whatever. They are paper-thin and fragile as a young girl’s heart. But. Prayer is a dog with different hair. (Is that how that goes? Doesn’t seem right, but I’ll leave it there for the time being.) Prayer is much stronger than promises and resolutions and determination to change.

Prayer only depends on me to speak and believe. It depends on God to be fulfilled, and God is the most trustworthy Being I know.

When I told Him I wanted 2018 to be different, the word “deeper” echoed in my heart. Different isn’t always something new, sometimes it’s just, well, deeper.

So, here are the top 3 deeper things I am praying for God to do in me in 2018:

  • A deeper commitment to my health. I no longer have the luxury of youth or pretending that eating whatever I want isn’t going to hurt me. It already has. The processed food/junk food/fast food/sugary food way of life I lived for so long has caught up to me and now I find myself having to race the clock to try to reverse stupidity. It’s harder than it sounds. But, I need something other than “I can’t eat this or that” to keep me going. I need to apologize to my body for the way I treated it all these years. This has to be about honoring the only body God has given me, not getting into a certain dress size. I will need endurance, patience, and commitment. I’ll need Jesus.
  • Deeper relationships. Deeper, not wider. To know and be known. To go beyond the shallows with people. I don’t want more friends, I just want to go deeper with the ones I have.  As a high introvert, it will be both challenging and refreshing. Challenging, because my preference is to be alone. Refreshing, because surface only relationships with shallow chit-chat are far too draining for me. But because I am who I am, I know it will require that I do some things I’d rather avoid (besides leaving my house, because I could remain indoors, like, forever). I will need to be vulnerable. Honest with how I’m feeling. And I’ll need to be willing to ask and be asked hard questions. If I want deeper relationships, then I will need to be willing to let someone else go deeper into my life. I’ll need humility and openness. I’ll need Jesus.
  • A deeper fasting and prayer life. I know the power of prayer and fasting. I don’t know why it has power, or exactly how it has power, I just know that it does. Mountains have moved in my life, I believe, as a result of prayer and fasting. But then, you know, stuff happens. Like the ever-increasing grip of a food addiction. And complacency. And possibly the lack of desperation. So I need the desperation that comes from needing Jesus, if that makes sense. I need the hunger and thirst that sends me into deeper places in search of His heart and His power to move another mountain.

I want to know God more. I want to know His presence and His power in greater measure than before. I want my heart to expand to hold more of His love, His compassion, and His mercy. I want to love and serve His people with deeper consistency. I want to return to my first Love and let lesser loves fall away this year.

So I can’t make resolutions or promises. Nothing as wispy and fragile as all that.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will hear you. You will seek Me and find Me, when you seek Me with all your heart.” – Jeremiah 29:11

My resolution is a prayer because I need Jesus. And He promised I would find Him.

looking back then looking ahead

I don’t know how to start. Or maybe it’s that I don’t know how to end. I’m not good at simply waving bye to a whole year of my life and starting a new year just like that. I need closure. Perhaps a few tears. Reminiscing must happen or I won’t be able to close the door.

2017…

You were a good year, especially near the end. Things happened that I’m excited about and that left me overwhelmed with gratitude. But, you know. There are the other things, the stuff that didn’t happen that should have happened. We might as well talk about those first.

I started out well. Good intentions and all. But about mid-year, my commitment to daily exercise started to wane. By the end of the year (which is tomorrow), my commitment had totally skipped town. And while I have made progress on eating better, there is still a whole lotta room for improvement there.  So, 2017, you were not the year of weight loss and health that I had hoped you would be. But I’ll own that one. That was all me.

I didn’t read as many books as I planned. Didn’t fast and pray as often as I thought I would. Didn’t finish the book. I also did not learn to love cooking or get my house completely organized or the grandkids’ room decorated in a fun style. In fact, I really didn’t do most of what I had hoped I would do this year. Based on previous years, I can at least say that I’m consistent. So there’s that.

So what did happen?

I had two cancer checkups that came up clean. That’s kind of noteworthy, praiseworthy huh?

I took a vacation with my husband to the Gulf of Mexico. I can’t tell you the last time we actually went somewhere that was worthy of the title of “vacation”, but I’m pretty sure my kids were in Jr. High at the time. They are now fully grown, married, with kids. So this vacation thing we did this year was a pretty.big.deal. And it was glorious.

I made new friends this year and deepened a few other friendships. I became a Lifegroup leader for a small group of women, which means I get to prepare studies, talk about the Word of God, pray with them, love them and have fun with them. So as far as relationships go, 2017, you were very generous to me. Thank you for that.

I made a deal with my husband, based on my total disdain for cooking. He does the cooking, I do all the cleaning. I didn’t know if he’d go for it but, much to my surprise and delight, he did! You would have to understand just how much I did not enjoy cooking to know just how good this deal is for me. Actually, it’s not the cooking itself that I hated, it was the responsibility of cooking. It was knowing that someone else depended on me to come up with a meal once I got home from work. It was trying to figure out how to not cook pork chops or tacos because they are quick and I know how to make them. It was all too much for me.  I know. It’s silly and I’m dramatic, but it is what it is. I couldn’t handle it. So I struck a deal. It’s not like I sold my soul.  And so far, it’s working out pretty good. He cooks good, healthy meals for me, and all I have to do is clean up! And make sure the rest of the house stays fairly clean. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

I did make progress on the book. Got a cover for it (thank you, Jonathan Wenzel). Sent the first couple of chapters to a professional editor and got some feedback. Not the “it’s perfect, you’re an awesome writer, I wouldn’t change a thing” feedback I had hoped for, but still. What I did get was a reality check and a lot of editing to do. Hopefully, 2018 will be the finishing year for this thing.

The highlight came near the end when we welcomed our first grandson into the family. Shepard William Wasion was born November 3rd, and I was, and still am, a bit giddy about that. And, our whole family came together for Christmas at Shepard’s house in Salt Lake City! There was snow and it was cold, but my heart stayed warm the whole time! My two granddaughters (cousins) formed a frienemy relationship that kept us laughing. Mostly.

So, 2017, your ending more than made up for the things undone this year. And I am choosing to not see the year as a failure, but as a learning process. It takes time to learn to take care of yourself after years of neglect. It takes time to find your footing in a new way of walking (literally) out life.

I am choosing to live as a loved daughter who does not have a disappointed Father, but one who is encouraging me more and more to do this with Him. Choosing not to turn my health or any of my other endeavors into a performance.

2018…

The word for this coming year for me is Deeper.

Deeper in commitment to my health. Deeper in relationships. Deeper in prayer. Deeper into the Word of God. I want to go deep, but more than that, I want God to go deep. I want Him in my bones, in the marrow, in the deep places of my heart. I want Him in places that I have held back for other things. I want a deep invasion of the Spirit of God in my life this year.

What about you? What do you want for this year? What are you hoping for, committing to, believing for?

hashtag breathe

Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe. There’s too much coming too fast and none of it brings peace. It’s like the whole darn country is having 10,000 different arguments with itself and it just can’t stop. And our children are watching. Growing up in an angry house nation with angry adults who seem to have no control over their own emotions or words. Makes it hard to breathe, y’all.

We’re mad at everything and everyone, while living with more freedom and opportunity than most of the world. Having access to so much that we waste most of what we have. We don’t have to dig to try to find clean water. We live in a nation known for its wealth, although we do have our own level of poverty.

But, come on–

 

 

 

 

Ditto with the levels of corruption in our leaders. As much as some want to think we are under the rule of a madman, we are not. Because we live here, not over there, where a real madman is at the wheel.  And he kills anyone who speaks against him.

{Imagine it.}

We can go to church and sing and clap out loud without dying for it. We can kneel and pray, make the sign of the cross, put ashes on our forehead, chant, bow to any god we want, and we can do it all without dying.

Our women can work, drive, vote and pretty much dress any way they want, without being beaten or killed. We can be CEOs or stay-at-home moms. Our choice. We can marry who we want, travel where we want, and we can look a man in the eye and tell him what we think. Without dying for it. It’s a low bar, I know, but there are many people who can’t reach the low bar, while we soar far above it. But we’re still mad. We’re still fighting. We’re still marching for more.

{#iamnotavictim}

And I want us to breathe. For a minute, just take breaths and look around and wonder why we are lucky enough to be here instead of there. I want us to be thankful instead of angry. I want us to stop finding excuses to be offended and find reasons to be grateful. To remember how good it is here. To remember that we are free. That we are blessed.  I want us to look beyond our selves, beyond our own borders and discover how privileged we really are – all of us.

I want us to remember that our children are watching. Learning what it looks like to be an adult. Learning how to respond when things aren’t just the way we want them to be. Learning how to want more and expect more, despite having the most. What they’re seeing teaches them that we should respond to everything we see and hear, no matter how ridiculous.

They see the Church as wrapped up in what goes on in the world as everyone else. As argumentative, opinionated and just as angry. They can hear us bickering, see us protesting, watch as we go toe to toe with those on the left, or on the right, or anywhere in between. They see the world’s fight becoming ours. They see the pitting of women against men and they hear the cry to rise up and demand the respect we deserve.

If our children are seeing what I’m seeing, they see angry Christians in an angry world. Demanding to be heard. Hashtagging it out with everyone else.

We need to breathe in some different air. Holy air. Inhale some peace. Because we are citizens of heaven and the air there is thick with glory, not anger. Our mission is not to gain equality, or even to be treated fairly. We are ambassadors of Christ in a foreign land and we are to represent Him well. We are sent ones, equipped with a rescue message, to go into darkness and bring people out.

We are salt and light and different. As in not the same. Their fight is not our fight and their weapons are not ours. As much as we want to link arms with them and march it out for justice…that is not what we do or how we do it.

“For our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the world powers of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavens.”  – Ephesians 6:12

Breathe, Church, breathe. Jesus left us footprints. Let’s follow them.

{He bestowed honor on women without inciting hatred against the men who dishonored them. He lifted people up and out without turning them against one another. He said “your faith has healed you”, not “#metoo”.}

the f-word

aphiemi is our f-word. It means to send away, dismiss, set free.  It means to forgive.

So much has been said about forgiveness so I won’t go on and on. Probably. Maybe. We’ll see.

Here is what I have seen, what I am seeing, and what I myself have done:  searched the scriptures for a way out of forgiving someone, rather than for a way into it. Usually, our way out lies in a lack of repentance, or change, on the part of the person we need to forgive.  Most often the door out of forgiving is found in Luke 17:3-4.

“If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him. And if he sins against you seven times in a day, and comes back to you seven times, saying, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive him.” 

Ergo, if they don’t repent, we don’t have to forgive them. Two other places used as a way out of forgiveness are Colossians 3:13: “Just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you must also forgive.” and Ephesians 3:32 – “And be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving one another, just as God also forgave you in Christ.”

God’s forgiveness comes at our repentance, so we use repentance, or change, as our measuring stick of whether or not we have to forgive someone. So let’s just talk about that.

What if, in Luke 17, the point Jesus was making was not repentance, but forgiveness? What if He was addressing the heart of the forgiver, not the forgiven? What if He was saying “I don’t care how many times he does the same thing to you and keeps coming back and saying “sorry”…you cannot withhold forgiveness.”

I mean, what if someone coming back over and over again and repenting for the same sin isn’t really the definition of repentance, and therefore, repentance is not the criteria for forgiving someone seventy times seven?

So let’s throw Colossians and Ephesians up and see what sticks.

“Just as”. That’s what usually sticks. And so then we say God forgave us when we repented, so just as He did, we are to do. Ok, fair enough. Let’s talk about that.

What if we have no ability to offer anyone salvation and therefore, our forgiveness cannot be based on repentance? What if by “just as”, He was referring to any number of other things besides “when they repent”?

Like, completely. Fully. Unmerited. Forgiveness given when it is not even close to being deserved. Because that is how God has forgiven us in Christ, and it should make us out of our minds grateful. Not searching for a way not to give that same thing to others.

What if God was saying to us, “I so desired to forgive you that I sent my Son to die to make it happen”. What if forgiving as God forgave means looking for a way to forgive, rather than for a way not to forgive?

Well, what about repentance? What about it? First of all, those of us who are looking for a reason not to forgive, aren’t really looking for repentance. We want change. We are demanding to see the fruit of repentance before we forgive. Which is not the way that God has forgiven us. Not if we believe the gospel. What we really have to ask ourselves is not “did they repent”, but “what do we do with these scriptures”:

But if you don’t forgive people, your Father will not forgive your wrongdoing. – Matthew 6:15

And whenever you stand praying, if you have anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven will also forgive you your wrongdoing. – Mark 11:25

Shouldn’t those statements have us scrambling to find a way to forgive the people who have hurt us, rather than trying to find justification not to forgive them?

I know what it feels like to have to forgive someone who has done you great harm, and not owned up to it. I know how hard that is and how gut-wrenching the work of forgiveness can be.  I know that it feels like forgiveness is the same as saying they didn’t do what they did, or that what they did doesn’t matter. It feels like they are getting away with something. It feels unjust.

This has become one of the deepest truths I know:  forgiveness is a choice, not a feeling. If you are waiting to feel forgiving, stop it.  We have to stop trying to figure out what forgiveness feels like, and see what it looks like. Below is an excerpt from my book on the restoration of my marriage (the book is still in process):

It looks like never mentioning any of it ever again. No matter how mad I am. No matter how hurt I am. No matter how much I want to get back at him. I choose to let forgiven things remain forgiven.

It looks like not allowing my thoughts to turn over the rocks of the past, digging up the dirt of things buried in my forgiveness. In other words, I don’t think about the things I’ve forgiven. I just don’t. If those thoughts come in, I send them right back out. I choose to think of something else. I choose to start speaking Scripture about what is true about my husband. I choose to keep forgiving.

It looks like allowing my scars to be evidence of God’s healing instead of evidence of my wounding. Those scars didn’t all come from my husband. I had to forgive the person who molested me, the ex-husband who abused me, and [many others who have hurt me deeply throughout my life].

Forgiveness in my story looks like refusing to protect my own heart from pain. It’s staying vulnerable. It looks like trusting God.

It looks like remembering how very much I have been forgiven. It’s recognizing that what was done and what was said during those years were from a place of brokenness, and broken people do broken things and we are all broken at some point. You. Me. All of us have hurt people we love. Then we pull out our scales of justice and measure how much pain we’ve inflicted against how much pain we’ve been dealt and somehow, the scale always tips in our favor. I choose to throw away the scales of what justice looks like to me, because it is mercy and forgiveness I’ve been given by God, not justice.

If you are struggling with the f-word, then do what you know to do. Repent. Turn around. Go the other way. Look for a way into forgiveness instead of a way out of it.

I promised not to go on and on. Promise broken. Forgive me.

i can live with that – part one

At the same time the Benjaminites did not drive out the Jebusites who were living in Jerusalem. The Jebusites have lived among the Benjaminites in Jerusalem to this day. {Judges 1:21}

I could go on about how I was in the book of Judges with no idea why I chose to go there. How I was reading along at more of a yada yada pace than taking a contemplative stroll. I could tell you about reading past verse 21, but not really because my eyes kept going back to it even though my brain kept wanting to move on. Get to something interesting. I could tell you all of that, but I won’t. I’ll just cut to the chase. Or to the quick. Whichever it happens to be for you.

What are you co-existing with that you should have driven out?

Personally, I needed a whole minute after that question. Could have been a month. A month of trying not to let it stop at conviction. Forcing myself to stay with it and not push it away as one of those oh, that’s good moments and then go back to being whatever it is that I am. Oblivious. Comfortable. Unconvicted.

I may need more time. But here is where I share my journey with whoever may be listening, so I’ll share a couple of miles or so I’ve gone with this so far.

The Israelites had been told to drive out the inhabitants that were in their promised land. Get rid of them. The promised land was the territory God had given them. Places He had given them the authority to dwell as His people.

What is the spiritual shadow being cast by this physical reality? What is my land, my territory of authority?

My home, family. My marriage. If I were still raising children, my parenting would be a place God has given to me, but now it’s my grandparenting.  Ministry. Calling. Gifting. My workplace. My relationships with God, and with others, inside and outside of the Church.

This is my land, my territory. God has planted me here and given me authority, spiritually.  These are the areas I have felt led to ask myself the question — what have I been allowing to co-exist with me here, rather than driving it out?

Some that I came up with apply to me, and some do not. Maybe they resonate with you, though.

Fear, including the fear of man. The fear of disappointing someone, of feeling their disapproval or criticism. That kind of fear will keep us in a place of striving, trying to please and appease. It will keep us from speaking the truth when truth needs to be spoken. Then there is the fear that comes when we watch the news. That’s the fear that can turn our desire to be informed into an obsession. And because we are obsessed with what is going on around us, we are continually fueling fresh fear.  And no, the answer is not to bury our heads, no longer paying any attention to the news. The news is not the trespasser on our land. Fear is.

{Also, for the record — fear includes control, because control is rooted primarily in fear.  Think about it.}

Pride, which includes a low self-esteem. Whether thinking too much of ourselves, or too little of ourselves — we are still continually thinking of self. Narcissism, which is pride on steroids, is rampant in the Church. One day on social media will confirm that, I promise.  Comparison is also rampant and is rooted in pride. Self-hatred, self-loathing, self-everything — all the offspring of pride.

Pride ensures that no matter where we look, we see ourselves.

{It also includes a judgmental and/or critical spirit, both of which can be traced back to pride.}

Apathy/Complacency. Couch surfing Christians. Those who believe they follow Jesus, but never actually follow Him past the couch. They keep their religion as a “private” matter, never talking about it with others.  Or, they post spiritual memes on their social media accounts and consider that sharing the gospel. It is spiritual laziness and we have made peace with it and allowed it to co-exist with us in every aspect of our lives.

I can think of others, can you? A religious spirit, unbelief, addictions of every kind, and compromise, just to name a few.

To figure out how and why these things are enemies that should not be allowed to co-exist with us, we have to consider what they destroy, or at a minimum, what they hinder in us. We’ll do that in the next mile. Stay tuned!

when will i just stop surrendering?

Quick. What do you think when I say the word surrender?

I think song lyrics. I think on my knees before God. I think giving up.

A word I say, and think I’m doing, but really, I’m not.

 I’ve looked. I cannot find one scripture reference to humans surrendering to God, using the actual word surrender.

As though God wants to take prisoners rather than be reconciled to His children.

But I remember all those times on my knees, weeping and singing the lyrics. Don’t You remember those, God?

So He said to me, ‘Jonah’, and something in my stomach dropped as I reached for my bible.

Jonah was commanded to go prophecy to the city of Ninevah that God was going to destroy it because of their wickedness.

So Jonah ran. Ended up on a ship, a storm came, they threw Jonah overboard, big fish swallowed him. Jonah sees the error of his ways from inside the fish, and says this…

but as for me, I will sacrifice to You
with a voice of thanksgiving.
I will fulfill what I have vowed.

{and i think to myself…hmmm. that could be called surrender, right?}

Big fish pukes Jonah out onto a beach. He went to Ninevah and preached against it. All of Ninevah repents, turns from their wicked ways. God chooses not to destroy the city.

Jonah gets mad. Says this —

That’s why I fled toward Tarshish in the first place. I knew that You are a merciful and compassionate God, slow to become angry, rich in faithful love, and One who relents from sending disaster.

So then God and I discussed Jonah.

He surrendered, right?

Is it surrender to agree to obey Me once I have taken you into the depths? Is it surrender to stop fighting only because I have put you into a position where you can no longer fight? When I’ve cut off your ability to run? Is it surrender when you finally realize that you cannot hide from Me?

What is really being established — your surrender, or My sovereignty?

Why do you think Jonah ran in the first place?

Because he didn’t want to preach to Ninevah.

No. Jonah ran because he knew Me, but did not trust Me. 

He knew I am a compassionate God, a God rich in love and mercy. Jonah could not trust that I would do things the way he would do them. Jonah’s heart was to destroy Ninevah because that’s what justice looked like to him. He didn’t trust Me to do what was just.

Oh. Ok. {awkward silence} So, am I like Jonah? Knowing You but not trusting You? Surrendering because there are no further options?

Is my surrender really surrender, or is it Your sovereignty being established?

{i knew the answer. So did He. He was gracious to move the conversation along.}

What about Mary?

Mary. Teenaged girl, engaged to be married. Suddenly there’s an angel named Gabriel in front of her. Mary remained calm. We can ponder that some other time.

Gabriel tells Mary that she will become pregnant by the Holy Spirit and give birth to the Messiah.

“I am the Lord’s slave,” said Mary. “May it be done to me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38)

Was that it? Was that her surrender?

No. Mary didn’t need to surrender because she never chose to fight. She trusted Me.

I want you to consider this the next time you are singing those lyrics, the next time you are on your knees before me, pledging your surrender. 

Are you surrendered like Jonah, or like Mary? 

I don’t actually want your surrender. I don’t want to have to fight with you until you finally give up. Surrender is not the same as obedience. Surrender is not the same as trust. Surrender is simply acknowledging that you are in a battle that you cannot win. That isn’t what I’m after.

I am not your opponent, I’m your Father.

I want you to know Me. And because you know Me, you trust Me. If you know Me and trust Me then you will not have to surrender in order to obey Me.

The conversation spanned two weeks. I know that we use the term ‘surrender’, because it best fits our heart’s posture at the crossroad. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.

But I do think God wants to shift something. To have us step into the light and get a better view of Him.

He never wanted to fight us in the first place. He wanted to love us, rescue us and bring us back to Himself. We’re the ones who turn it into a fight.

He will establish His sovereignty if that’s what has to happen.

Or, we can seek to know Him, choose to trust Him. We can have obedience that didn’t require surrender.

We can choose to believe that He is worthy of not just our worship, not just our praises, but worthy of our obedience. Worthy of our trust. Worthy of so much more than our surrender.

Because He is not a worthy opponent. He is a worthy Father.

resist the rabbit

As I was falling asleep one night recently, I got a picture in my head.

And I knew exactly what it meant, what I need to talk about, and who I need to talk to.

Primarily women. Mostly in their 20’s, 30’s and 40’s. Maybe teens. Maybe seniors. Moms. Singles. Marrieds. You’ll know who you are in just a moment.

You see those dogs racing around that track? They are chasing something they will never catch. It’s put in front of them to motivate them to run as fast as they can. They don’t know they’ll never catch what they’re chasing.

Neither do you.

This comparison thing? That’s your racetrack. And you can just pick your rabbit. I bet you don’t even have to think about it. You know what it is. I’ll name a few, in case you need a prompt.

Looks, Finances, Clothes, Home, Husband/Boyfriend, Marriage, Children, Career, Ministry, Education, Gifting, Friends, Followers, Likes.

Is that enough? Can you find your rabbit yet? The thing that makes you feel less than or not enough? Whatever is making you work harder, run faster, buy more, do more, be more, so that you can finally feel like you aren’t losing. Trying to keep up with the latest trends, whether it’s what you hang on your wall or put on your kid, so that you aren’t in the back of the pack. The thing you chase, that always seems just a few more steps away.

Tell me. Have you ever caught that rabbit?

I wonder what would happen if you just stopped. Stopped racing and chasing. Left the track altogether. Seriously. Just walked away.

It’s highly unlikely that a group of anything chasing something will all stop at once. Whether it’s a pack of dogs or a generation of humans — someone has to stop chasing first. Others will follow.

It will take courage to be who you are without feeling like you should be more. To be okay with what you have. To celebrate your life as it is right here in this space of time. To relax with your flaws, your scars, your shabby without the chic.

To just be content.

Because whether we admit it or not, all that comparing just breeds discontent in us until we are compelled to the chase. But let me tell you, enough gazing over the fence and before long, who we are and what we have and who we have just isn’t enough. Don’t you know that’s where this chase is designed to go? To make us look around and conclude that there must be something better out there waiting for us. A better job, better house, better spouse, better marriage.

Don’t we know who’s holding the rabbit?

But I believe in you, Beloved. I believe that you are the generation to end the chase. I believe that you will see the rabbit for what it is. I believe that you will refuse to raise another generation of daughters who chase what cannot be caught. Daughters who cannot look in the mirror and see enough. Daughters who take the bait and enter a race they’ll never win.

I believe that you are the generation who will raise up women who fight for one another instead of compare one another. Women who would rather walk in authenticity than walk in someone else’s shoes. Women who know they are fearfully and wonderfully made, uniquely created, fully known and fully loved.

You can be the brave ones who will stop running. Who will turn around and walk away. Who will say enough. We are enough. 

We need you to be who you are, to fulfill the purpose God has for you. Just you. And the next generation needs to see you being you, so that they know it’s ok for them to be them. They need to see you resist giving chase to something you can’t catch, so that they know they can resist it too.

Resist the rabbit, dear ones. It will always outrun you.