Truth you need this morning

https://youtu.be/V0eXYR65Z2w As You Find Me – Hillsong United

Some days, I just need to hear some things. I need the reminder. If your like me, you need it too. So here’s truth.

It’s difficult to see disappointment in the eyes looking back at you, but you’re not reflected there.

Don’t let someone else define you. You’re not them.

What you’re going through isn’t irrelevant. It’s so not.

Don’t discount small moments, painful moments, or difficult times.

Don’t discount the process. It’s real. Struggle has far greater value than we want to admit.

Fear has absolutely no value. Yet the cost eats away at self worth.

Remember this: There is no darkness in light. Fear can only hide in the shadows, and You don’t belong in the shadows.

Hear me now:

Verbal abuse is abuse. It’s a vocal attack filled with lies. It’s mentally destructive, physically destructive, relationally destructive, and soul destructive.

You are battle weary, not worthless. Get help. This is a fight you need to win.

Whoever told you that you’re unlovable- lied. Flat out lied to you.

You are loved with an all consuming love by a God who sees you, who knows you, who created you.

There’s an enemy of your soul, and he’s become transparent. His lies have become visible, clear, evident.

You are worth so much more. See the lies for what they are.

Lies are not, cannot, and never will be truth.

It’s time to wake up. It’s time to walk. You were made for this life. You were made to live. Perfectly designed. Perfectly crafted by a God who sees you. A God who knows you.

Take down the pictures. Those walls can’t hold you captive anymore. You know this to be true. It’s why you’re here. Right here. Right now.

You are so much more than you’ve ever believed.

God is so much more than you’ve ever believed. holier, greater, kinder, just, loving, forgiving, compassionate.

It is time for change, and you’re ready. You know this. Look how far you’ve come already.

You’re not the person you once were. You’re so much more.

So, get ready. And yes, there will still be difficult days. You’re going to need the handbook.

Dig deep into the Bible. The Message, the amplified version, NASB, NIV. Look for the letters. They’re written on the binding– Just like your name is written on the back of His hand– where He can see it everyday.

Last thing for now: When you leave this place, make sure you’ve walked so close to the fire, you smell like smoke. And bring someone out of the fire with you.

Words unwritten

https://youtu.be/VzGAYNKDyIU Redeemed – Big Daddy Weave

You have so much worth, so much value- I wish I could just tell you that.

You are not the lie you hear first thing every single day.

You are loved.

You are not the sum of your parts.

You’re amazing.

You are not that worthless, accused, victimized soul whispering your lack.

You are precious treasure.

You are not rejected, exposed, and vulnerable.

You are a gift.

You are not a lost cause, salvage, discarded.

You are worthy.

You are not a failure. The choices you’ve made, the mistakes you’ve made, they don’t have that much power.

You’re a believer.

Listen, I’m the voice of experience. I’ve heard, listened to, and been thoroughly decieved by the lie.

I’ve come out on the other side, and you know what I’ve learned?

I’ve learned that there is a God in Heaven, and despite what everyone says, He is good.

I’ve learned that I’m a warrior. I HAVE fallen, and that’s where I found my knees.

I’ve learned how to pray.

I’ve learned that I fight harder in struggle.

I’ve learned that my best self has been broken and healed.

I’ve learned that I don’t have to live as a vict-im. I’m a Vict-or.

I’ve learned that I gain by sharing and truth telling.

I’ve learned that light creates a shadow. That shadow reminds me that I’m not that person anymore. I’m free.

Your story isn’t finished. You’re only partially written. Turn the page. Meet the author. He’s not through writing.

God bless.

Warriors

Something about this day reminds me of a day a few years back. I drove the youngest, just sixteen at the time, to drama practice. We didn’t speak out our angry, hurting words, and a twenty minute drive felt like driving nails into our dying relationship.

We’d recently learned that our youngest had chosen drugs over life and a future.

That last sentence makes my bones ache.

We lived through that battle. We lived through five years of that horrific battle, and now we’re more than five years out.

Our youngest fought all the way back to life, and I’m grateful.

But those memories.

They’re like a stain I can’t remove in a garment I’ll never throw out.

The value of those lessons, the scars that remind us of battles won, the healing- all of them woven in like patterns in fabric.

I fight new battles now, and I find it’s much harder to fight just for myself. I wrap myself in worry and weary and somehow, forget battles won. Defeat becomes a name. But then, I get a reminder, a game changer.

Today, this song is the reminder, and the words are like putting on armor, reminding me I’m not alone. They’re weapons at the ready, clashing with the challenges faced. They’re life giving, breathing life back into the warrior, giving life and breath and strength for the fight today.

Memory verses from that battle for the loved child are dusted off and added for this battle weary soul. They’re re-breathed and re-lived and the they’re soul re-newing.

Here’s the song- because maybe you’re battle weary too. You’re not alone. Fight the the good fight.

We’re not defeated. This is how we fight our battles.

We are warriors on our knees.

Truth

www.youtube.com/watch God Forbid – Point of Grace

We’ve been fed lies, and we’ve gorged ourselves on them. “We are not enough as we are. Not enough. Insufficient. A mess. Failed. Broken. Foolish. Ugly.”

We’ve replaced truth with a lie, as

though we can somehow be less than who we were made to be – an image, a likeness, a creation made in the image of our creator.

We face our flesh in the mirror, and forgetting our DNA contains holiness, we see unworthiness. And we have believed the lies.

His holiness has been passed down through thousands of generations. We are the heirs to a holy God.

And that is Truth.

Bookend reminders today of who He is and who we are in Him.

God bless.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NeOyFxjkqKY&feature=share Back to the Garden – Crowder

This has nothing to do with car crashes.

I think the thing that stills me, that slows my breathing, and catches me most off guard is when someone doesn’t absorb another’s emotional break.

How can we drive past a collision and feel nothing? Yet, at the same time, how do we stop, snap a Facebook moment, and drive away? Just drive away. A moment captured. We feel enough horror to document the moment, enough shock to confess we “had to share,” but not enough empathy to stay. Not enough compassion to help.

We do that. We document and drive away. We see the emotional break, gather the details, absorb information, and move on.

It’s easier. Life is too… Fill in the blank.

I’m broken. I’m full of my life and so full, I’m overweight. I no longer need.

When did this happen? Each day. One slowly on top of another. Shedding the excess life is just like shedding gluttonous pounds.

We’re broken as a society. We’ve lost our sense of compassion. We’ve lost our unity, our oneness, our sense of bring me your poor. Parties be damned. How do we find ourselves?

Maybe it starts with outrage. Maybe it starts with concern. Maybe with common sense. It’s time. It starts with each of one of us.

Ragamufffins?

The telephone’s ringing woke me from late evening tv sleep. The oldest son’s name glowed, backlit by the screen. His voice is deeper and softer than the other two.

“Momma, do you remember ever calling us ragamufffins?”

What? No. Sleep clogged my memory bank. Had I? I hoped not. Where’d I heard the word last?

A silly conversation between my son and daughter-in-law had led to the phone call.

After we’d sorted out the memory and searched for a definition of the word, I’d concluded, no, we’d never called our boys ragamufffins. No, we’d straight up used the word orphan, which the beloved son then remembered. Yes. That was it. Orphan.

A ragamuffin or an orphan is someone who doesn’t belong. That’s not always bad. Not in the way we usually define those words. Sometimes, they’re just people who are not caught in this world. They belong to another, to a greater being, to a higher power.

I shook my head, sighing as we ended the call. Great, just great. Good job, mom. Of all the child rearing triumphs and failures, this is one of the memories that sort of stuck..

Thirty minutes after the phone call, I remembered my last run-in with the word ragamuffin. Rich Mullins and the Ragamuffin Band. I’d shown the movie to my boys a few years earlier and gotten mixed reviews.

Well, I’d liked it. Rich Mullins had been popular in my day. And the movie is good. So, I text my son. Maybe he’d remember the movie, too. Not that the movie really had anything to do with the earlier phone call, but I had a sudden need for him to remember.

This post from a few months back sat drafted and forgotten amid the rush of my work days and my menopausal sleepless nights. Then today, the blue-eyed boy and his bride sat with us for a stolen hour, the last of their Christmas week off before a few hours of driving home.

Have you ever tried to breathe in every moment, like a scent you want to remember? Grown kids move away. Their phone calls become the filler between gasping absences and their visits like our need to breathe.

Ragamufffins? Hardly.

Wake up!

It’s that day after I woke up at three in the morning feeling soul bruised. Words woke me. Words have a way of doing that sometimes, but these straight up shouted deep into my brain: “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Wake Up!” And my soul said, “Yes,” and my feet hit the floor.

See lately, I’ve become sick of me. All the healthy changes I’m making are scrubbing away at the exterior, but they’re also exposing the slowly rotting interior. I’ve had to own up to my own complacency. I’ve traded better and best for good enough. I’ve settled into the lackadaisical and made a resting place in Laodicea. My world has grown small. It’s been a solo ride of all about me. Enough.

After a weekend gathering of women, I came home weary and burdened. The refreshing relaxation I had expected got left at the door. Day one began with listening to trials that have led to doubt and day two ended with listening to hurt that has led to fear. But laced between every word was woven a message of faith, perseverance, and overcoming.

So this morning’s early words reflected the determination that’s been breaking through my protective layers of me-ness, calling me back to warrior mom knees. The lost child and his lost love need saving. It’s time to go to war. The child struggling under the weight of inner battles and his love doing the same–need prayer battles fought on their behalf. The child contemplating the unknown future and his love in the same boat–need prayerful support and guidance.

Having children changes your world. It does. But it doesn’t take being a mom to be a warrior. Being a woman and/or a mom doesn’t mean you can’t fight. You were born to be a warrior. In fact, you may be the only warrior some people ever meet. Pray like a warrior. Take a stand. Believe. Persevere. Love hard. And if you’re a parent, even when those kids grow up and grow away, they need you to make war on their behalf. So, for the love of your loved ones, wake up! It’s time to pray.