Soul Unpacked

I've Moved...

2011-07-02T20:48:00.000-07:00

Hi all!

I've moved my blog to a Wordpress site. soulunpacked.com. Please join me over there!!!

Thanks!
Kim

A" Must Read" Manifesto by Jeff Goins

2011-06-21T16:49:00.000-07:00

"I’m a writer.

I could say that I love to write.

But really, I like to be read.

A lot." (Jeff Goins, The Writer's Manifesto, pg. 4)

From the first page to the last, The Writers Manifesto grabbed my soul and held on tight. As a new writer who "likes to be read...a lot" I constantly waver, arms stretched out, on the tightrope between "creativity and congratulations.." (page 9). If you feel the same, don't miss this book.

Jeff Goins packs oceans of inspiration into an ebook that can be read in the amount of time it takes to drink a glass of water. When finished reading, you'll want to drink it again...you'll have to... if you want to truly soak it in.

The Writer's Manifesto speaks to every writer, whether famous or unknown, confident or insecure, experienced or new to their craft. It exposes the battle that rages within each of us...the desire for applause vs. the need follow our own creative instincts.

If you really are a writer...if it is who you are, not just something you do... this Manifesto will resonate with you, and you need to read it. You really do.

You can get the FREE ebook here: The Writer's Manifesto

Also, check out Jeff's blog here: Jeff Goins Writer

And join the discussion about The Writer's Manifesto here: The Writer's Manifesto on Facebook

My Special Girl

2011-06-17T15:31:00.000-07:00

I have a daughter with special needs. She’s 12 years old…her name is Lizzy…here she is…

She has a rare form of Down Syndrome called Mosaicism or Mosaic Down Syndrome. I know, I know, you weren’t aware that there are any ‘forms’ of Downs, but there is this one. It means that only some of her cells are Trisomy-21 (which causes Downs) instead of all of them.

She’s an amazing girl. She’s funny, she’s smart, she’s outgoing and friendly. She loves horses and she is an amazing vaulter (a special kind of riding where they do artistic routines while riding on the back of a moving horse) Here are some pics to help you understand...

Adults LOVE her. Kids are mean to her. It’s very sad. She has one really good friend, and that’s good. There are a couple of kids at school that will be kind of nice to her, but most just ignore her. They don’t understand her. She’s so high functioning that, instead of being obviously Downs, she comes off as just awkward and weird.

She bites her nails until they are too low to bite. She also bites her lips so she gets sores that make her mouth hurt. She has a lisp, she wears glasses and she doesn’t care much about social ‘graces’. None of these things are great for a 12 year old girl, about to enter Middle School.

I worry about her a lot. And, to be honest…bluntly honest…I feel ‘heavy’ for her and, selfishly, for me too. I sometimes forget how heavy I feel….I get used to it I guess. Until something reminds me.

Lizzy went to camp with the middle school youth group from our church this week. She was gone for 5 days. I missed her and worried about her a bit, but I knew she’d find an adult leader that would love on her, so I knew she’d be fine.

When I picked her up today, she walked off the bus, and my first thought was ‘she is a total mess’. She was filthy (she had only showered once all week because the water was cold). She looked exhausted. She had a big scab on her chin (looked like she fell on gravel), but she said she has no idea how she got it. I saw her trying to talk to a few different girls, and I saw them completely ignoring her. She gathered her stuff…her backpack, duffle bag, sleeping bag…and I gathered up my ‘heaviness’ and we got into the car.

She had a great time at camp. She, of course, met a leader who she loved and who loved her back. She hung out with a couple of girls from school, and “they ignored me sometimes, but mostly they were nice.”

And I’m heavy again. I hadn’t realized the lightness of the week, but I realize the weight when it returns. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE my Lizzy with all my heart and soul, and it’s because of that love that there is also a tension…a weight…that I live with. I want others to see in her what I see. I want her to “fit in”…not in an unhealthy way, but just in a happy, friendly way. I want to teach her certain, appropriate ‘social graces’ without belittling who she is, or making her feel like I don’t think she’s good enough. I just want to help her.

So, no big revelations…no big spiritual insights in this post today. Just my thoughts about my lovely girl.

If you have a special needs family member or friend, tell me if you connect with this post at all.

If you don’t, please don’t tell me…

“God loves her more than you do” or

“You should give all your worries to God” or

“It’s better if she doesn’t fit in because fitting in isn’t what’s really important” or

“Some people go through life with only one or two friends and that’s okay”.

I know all those things already…I really do…and I believe them. But my heart breaks for her none-the-less.

Where My Passion Intersects A Need (maybe?)

2011-06-14T18:16:00.000-07:00

Back in April, on the Re:Create Cruise, someone said (I believe it was Randy Elrod) to find your vocation “where your passion intersects a need.” Then last week I went to the Storyline Conference and was inspired and convicted by Don Miller to get off my butt and start doing the things I need to do to create the story I want to live. I think I might have found a way to do just that, and I want YOUR opinion.

As I said in my last post, “The Secret to Learning Others’ Stories”, if I could do anything right now, I would listen to people’s stories then write about them. I LOVE to sit with another person and hear his story, I mean the story of his life…stories of events that shaped him…stories of his greatest joys and deepest tragedies…stories that give insight into the person he is today.

I also love to write. I love to re-tell stories. I love to use words to create emotion and spark imagination.

So, how do I intersect these passions with a need?

Here’s my idea…it’s still very rough, with a lot of details to figure out, so be honest, but no TOO rough with me!!!

I’ve seen A LOT of books out there filled with life story questions. You’re supposed to buy the book, answer the questions, then give the book to your children or grandchildren. I’ve also seen some “story” websites where you can go online and write your story for family and friends to read (seems pretty much like a blog). The problem is, many people can tell their story if asked the right questions, but will NEVER take the time to sit and write it out. If you are one of those people, let ME write your story for you…

Here’s how it would work…

We would meet for a videotaped chat…about 2 hours in length
I would basically interview you about your story…we’d have a casual chat over coffee, or something similar…easy, unassuming, informal.
I would use my creative talent to write your story in a way that fits with your personality and tastes. If I find you to be very serious, the story may take that tone. If you’re a joker, the story will have humor…etc…This would be partly based on my own intuitive “feel” of the situation, and partly on the purpose of the story.
That story can then be presented in different forms (printed and framed, in a book form, in a book form with pictures that you give me, in a book form with stock photos that relate to your story, maybe also in an e-book form)
You can also purchase a DVD of the interview (edited or un-edited)

Here are some possible uses…

For the elderly to leave their life story behind for their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, etc…
As a wedding gift…I would interview the engaged couple, then write the story of how they met, fell in love, got engaged.
Wedding anniversary…”The story of our first year" or “The story of our first 20 years”. You get the point.
High School graduation… “My life story so far” or “My high school story”. This could be written from the student’s point of view, or the parents’ point of view, or both.
Others??

So, here’s where I need your help!

Do you think this is a good idea or not?
Would you ever consider using it?
What issues immediately come to mind that I might not think of?
Anything else you wanna say!!!

I would greatly appreciate your time in giving me some feedback to help me get started!

The Secret To Learning Others' Stories

2011-06-13T12:59:00.000-07:00

I love to hear people’s stories. If I could do anything right now I think I would sit down with people from all different backgrounds, listen to their stories, then write about them.

Every person has a story. Everyone.

The cashier at the grocery store…the man sitting across from you on the subway…the homeless woman at the corner…the wealthy businessman who won’t give you the time of day. The famous…the infamous…the unknown. They each have a story.

Some filled with pain, some filled with joy, most with a certain amount of both.

And one thing that I know for sure is that almost everyone wants to share their story. Everyone wants to be known…everyone wants to be heard. Some share their story with the world, some with only a cherished few.

So how do I get people, sometimes virtual strangers, to tell me their stories? Well, it’s a pretty big deal…quite a secret. It takes great talent and finesse. A skill that requires much practice.

Re you ready? Here it is….

I ASK.

Amazing huh?

I ask. I ask about their family. I ask about their job. I ask why they chose their job. I ask where they are from. I ask why they moved where they are now. I ask. Just ask. Usually within 2-3 questions, I get to hear a story.

Meet Joe.

Joe and I worked for 2 hours together at an aid station at a charity bicycle ride. Here’s some of what I learned about Joe…

He has 2 living children, ages 8 and 17. They live in California with their mom. He has another daughter that committed suicide last year. His ex-wife knew that his daughter was in crisis, but she didn’t talk to him about it. He holds a lot of anger about that. He works with at-risk teens, and his eyes light up when he talks about them. (By the way, when someone is telling you their story, and their eyes light up, you’ve hit on their passion. They’ll talk about that all night if you will listen. And you will learn more about the person while listening to them talking about their passion any other topic. ) I learned all about Joe’s philosophy of working with troubled kids, as well as his hopes and dreams for the kids he works with.

Joe is a big man with a big heart for kids, and I can now pray for him more specifically because I have heard his heart.

Meet Gerald.

Gerald sat behind me on an airplane trip to Portland. I didn’t actually talk to Gerald myself. Gerald was about 90 years old, and he was sitting next to a kid of about 10. The kid was flying alone, and he and Gerald became fast friends. Gerald was annoying to most of the passengers in a 5 row radius. He talked too loud for an airplane and he laughed a lot, with a big guffaw kind of laugh. But, guess what? The 10 year old asked him a couple of questions, and what came next was a plethora of stories from a life well-lived, some a bit inappropriate for 10 year old ears, actually. You know what, though? These two people who live across the county and 80 years from each other bonded on that airplane. They heard each other’s hearts. They connected as only humans can do. They connected as God intended us to do. Simply because the boy took the time to ask.

And that’s the point, right? Our stories bring us together. Our stories give us a glimpse into each other’s hearts, passions, dreams, pains, joys, fears. When we ask someone else, with genuine interest, about their story, we let them know that we care about these things. We let them know that we want to know them…to hear them. And we are blessed. We are blessed in an intangible way…a spiritual way. We can’t put it into words, but it changes us for the better.

So here’s my challenge to you. Just ASK.

Just Another Night...

2011-06-01T22:45:00.000-07:00

I spend another night

Lying in our bed

Looking out the window

Pondering our story

Wondering what’s happened

How did we ever get here?

We had such different plans

For where we would be now

Tears fall down my cheek

Although I try to stop them

Cannot stuff the heartache

Deep inside my soul

You lie in bed sleeping

It comes so easy for you

The fear and pain don’t haunt you

Once your head hits the pillow

While I spend another night

Lying in our bed

Looking out the window

Pondering our story

Wondering what’s happened

How did we ever get here?

We had such different plans

For where we would be now

Tears fall down my cheek

Although I try to stop them

Cannot stuff the heartache

Deep inside my soul

Am I A Wrong-Blogger?

2011-05-31T19:15:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty new to blogging...actually, very new. I haven't decided yet if there are right and wrong ways to do it. I've read blogs about blogging, with great hints about how to get more readers, how to keep readers, how to guest blog, and how to organize your blog.

I've been told, "don't talk too much about yourself," and "just be yourself," and "only talk about stuff that is important to you," and "find a topic that people will be attracted to and write about that."

I've heard, "your blog posts should be 200-300 words max" and "your blog posts can be up to 600-800 words."

I've seen blogs on all kinds of topics, from marketing to motherhood, vocations to vacations, gardening to grand-parenting, and leadership to landscaping.

I've seen some great gimmicks like "A Photo A Day" and "Seven Sentences" (where every post is exactly 7 sentences long).

My blog is pretty much about whatever is on my mind when I sit down to write, along with the ongoing story of A Girl Named Little. I have no real topic, no real focus necessarily. I don't stick to a set length for each post, and I don't really do anything fancy to get more views.

I know that I'm called to encourage people to break the ties that hold them back, to reveal the secrets that weigh them down, and to battle the fears that tie their hands. I'm not sure that my blog is specifically about that, though.

So, am I a wrong-blogger?? (I just made up that term, by the way...just for fun!) Is there a right way to blog? Do I need to pick a specific topic? A consistent length? Do I need to post less about my own thoughts, and come up with a more "generalized" topic to discuss?

When you first started your blog, how did you decide what to write about? What blogging "rules" do you use?

We Are All Worship Leaders

2011-05-29T21:09:00.000-07:00

I’ll admit to you right up front…I stole the ideas for this post from the Worship Pastor at my church (Southeast Christian Church,Parker, CO), Jeff Percival. Jeff not only led the music portion of the service today, but he also did the teaching, and his words have resonated in my soul all day.

He used this great quote by Louie Giglio…

“I think all music – not just Christian music – is worship music because every song is amplifying the value of something. There’s a trail of our time, our affection, our allegiance, our devotion, our money. That trail leads to a throne, and whatever’s on that throne is what we worship. We’re all doing a great job of it because God has created us to be worshippers. The problem is that a lot of us have really bad gods.”

He also used Luke 4:18-19...

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free, and that the time of the Lord’s favor has come.” (NLT)

So, here’s the deal friends…We are ALL worship leaders! Each and every one of us…believer or non-believer, old or young, those employed in ministry and those employed in secular organizations…we are ALL worship leaders.

Why would I say that? Here’s why…

God made us to be worshippers, and we all worship something
The life I am living amplifies the value of whatever I worship (if I worship money, my life will amplify the value of being wealthy…If I worship fame, my life will amplify the value of being well-known and recognized…if I worship Jesus, my life will amplify the value of Christ himself)
Others will recognize and resonate with the things that I worship…those things that are amplified in my life.
I am, just by the very nature of what is amplified in my life, leading others into worship of something…I am a worship leader.

So, here’s the question…

Your life amplifies the value of something…what is it? What is resonating with others when they are with you? What kind of worship are you leading?

A Girl Named Little - Part 5

2011-05-27T12:33:00.000-07:00

To read...
A Girl Named Little - Part 1 - click here
A Girl Named Little - Part 2 - click here
A Girl Named Little - Part 3 - click here
A Girl Named Little - Part 4 - click here

“I need to tell you something about your grandpa,” Little heard her mom’s voice say over the phone. Sitting alone in her college apartment, Little’s stomach started to churn, her hands started to sweat. Mom’s voice sounded concerned. Could she know something? How? Or maybe he’s sick, in the hospital, dead. Little’s mind sped through a million possibilities in just a few seconds.

“What’s going on?”

“Well, it’s crazy. These two little girls in his neighborhood have claimed that he exposed himself to them.”

Little felt instantly queasy, lightheaded, short-of-breath. ‘Oh God,’ she thought. ‘This is it…it’s all going to come out now…and I’m not the only one.’ Anger, disgust, rage, hurt, fear all surged through her simultaneously. She tried to stay focused on her mother’s words…to act surprised, unaffected.

“Huh,” was the only sound she could get out.

Her mother continued, “They say that they were riding their bikes down the street and he exposed himself through the front window. These little girls are trouble makers, though. You know he would never do anything like that. I have no idea why they are making up such a horrible thing.”

Little couldn’t speak…what could she say? Should she confess her secret? Everything in her wanted to say, “No! You’re wrong! He would do something like this! He did this to me, and even worse!” But she couldn’t…the words were stuck…fear overwhelmed…nothing came.

Finally Little asked, “So, what’s going to happen?”

“Well, this has actually been going on for a little while, but I didn’t tell you sooner because I didn’t want to worry you. Now it’s going to court, so I thought you should know. But we have letters from a bunch of neighbors supporting your grandfather. Those girls make up lies all the time. I’m sure the judge will see that they are lying and that your grandfather would never do such a thing.”

And Little didn’t tell…and the judge ruled in favor of her grandfather…and those girls were called liars…and her guilt and shame grew.

Painful secrets don’t sit dormant. They are a breeding ground for guilt, shame, self-hatred and doubt.
Painful secrets don’t heal themselves. Healing requires truth and light.
Painful secrets don’t only hurt their holder. They create a wall of fear which separates their holder from truly loving others, and so the hurt spreads.

Parent Therapy...I Need Help!

2011-05-23T20:57:00.000-07:00

I spent the last few days in Georgia with some of my family. We were celebrating the high school graduation of one of my nieces.

My middle brother and his wife have 3 kids, ages 20, 18 (the graduate) and 16. I haven’t had the chance to spend extended time with my nieces and nephew in a few years. One of the things that I noticed about them during this trip is that they get along SO well with each other! To be honest, I was feeling pretty insecure about my own kids, so I said to my sister-in-law, “Please tell me that they used to fight with each other when they were my kids’ ages (14, 12, and 10).”

She thought for a moment then said, “Actually, they didn’t.”

‘Hmm,’ I thought. “Okay, I don’t really mean ‘fight’. What I really mean is more like ‘bicker’. They did that, right?”

“Ummm, no. They really didn’t. They’ve always gotten along really well.”

Now, I know what you’re thinking…she has just forgotten. Everyone’s kids fight, or argue, or bicker, or whatever you want to label it. Or, maybe she just doesn’t want to admit it…maybe she’s one of those moms that acts like her kids are perfect. But I can tell you this. I’ve known my sister-in-law for over 20 years and that is just not her personality. She’s honest about the weaknesses of her children, along with their strengths. She loves her children dearly (as does my brother), but neither of them are blind to the truth either.

Then I came home to my kids…who really are awesome kids…but who do not get along nearly as well as my nieces and nephews do. A few minutes after arriving home, I was looking through my son’s 8^th grade yearbook with him, when his youngest sister asked if she could look it when we were done.

If you had walked into the conversation at this point, you might have thought that his sister had just asked him to cut off his own arm. He acted so 'put out' by the question. I mean, how could she? It is a ridiculous request when you think about it…that his younger sister would want to look at this book that means so much to him…that she might actually be interested in something pertaining to him…I mean, it’s ghastly, really.

Someone help me understand what is going on in his mind? Help me, seriously. When you have something you care about, and someone else shows interest in it, isn’t your first reaction to want to share it? Aren’t you excited that someone else cares about it? Don’t you want to show it off?

Why is this not true for my son with his little sister? And, how should I handle it? Do I force him to show it to her? Do I try to talk to him about why he doesn’t want to show it to her? Do I try to use reason and logic?

Help?? Anyone???

Teenage Attitude

2011-05-15T21:24:00.000-07:00

My 14 year old son is an awesome kid...I love him to death. He also has his “teenage attitude” moments when I absolutely want to wring his neck! One of those times happened this evening…just a few minutes ago, actually….and I’m still fuming just a bit.

Since he only has one more week of school, I decided to go online and check his grades. He has always been a good student with good grades, so I had no significant worries about what I might find. What I wasn’t expecting was that he has 8 missing assignments. Eight. Not just one “oops I forgot” moment. Eight missing assignments. That’s not an accident…that’s pure irresponsibility.

Of course, this little discovery spawned a “conversation” in our household this evening about responsibility, lying, etc… And here is what my 14 year old son said to me…”I can handle my school stuff on my own.”

If I hadn’t been so frustrated with him, I would have laughed. “Umm…really? Really? Did you fall on your head today? You have 8 missing assignments! That’s not how I define someone who can handle his schoolwork on his own!”

I sent him off to work on his assignments and thought to myself (and I’ll be honest here), ‘teenagers are just stupid…MY teenager is stupid. He actually believes that we should just step back and let him do what he wants to do (or not do, as the case may be). He actually believes that, at the ripe old age of 14, he’s got it all taken care of. But wait until he needs something…a ride, some money, dinner…will I be so unnecessary then?’

Then suddenly I heard a whisper in my soul. I sensed Jesus saying, with a bit of a friendly smirk on His face (and, yes, I do believe that Jesus smirks!) “Isn’t this, Kim, the way you so often act toward me? Don’t you often act like a stupid teenager who thinks that she can handle life on her own? Don’t you often believe that you’ve got it all taken care of? Until you need something, that is.”

Ouch…it’s true. Maybe, like my son who thinks he’s older than he actually is, I think I’m more mature than I actually am. If I’m honest, I walk my faith more often like a stupid teenager than a mature adult.

But, as always, there is good news. I still love my son more than life itself…I would die for that stupid teenager! And Jesus loves me more than life itself…so much so that he already died.

A Conversation With God About Adventure

2011-05-14T23:01:00.000-07:00

I'm a girl who likes adventure. If I could, I would sell everything I own and just go...follow God wherever He takes me. So, I was having another conversation with God tonight (a bit one-sided at first) asking, "Okay God, where, when, how? I'm bored...ready to go...so, could you pick a place and get us moving?? Oh, and could you get my family on board with the plan as well, please?"

At some point, when I took a mental breath, God started talking...here's a bit of our conversation.

God what do you want from me?

Tell me now, let me know, make it clear

Show me the adventure waiting in your plan for me

I’m ready Lord, let me hear

I am willing to do great things for You

Travel far distances, sell everything I own

To make a difference in Your name in this world you created

To be sure that Your glory is shown

“I know you are willing, my daughter,” You say.

“To go far and wide in my name”

“But are you as willing, my sweet child”

“To serve where I have put you today?”

“It may not be Africa, India or the Middle East”

“Filled with warfare, injustice, and disease”

“But the place where you live is as precious to me”

“As any place you will ever be.”

“There may not be many exciting adventures”

“In your white-picket-fence suburban days”

“But if adventure is what you are seeking, instead of really seeking Me”

“Then your service will be in vain anyway.”

“If you are really willing to do anything for Me”

“Go anywhere, make any sacrifice.”

“Then choose each day to glorify My name”

“Through your love, allow others to see Christ”

“With your children, with your neighbors, with your friends”

“In your home, at your work, in your church”

“There is work to be done right where you are”

“You don’t have to go to the ends of the earth”

“One day I may send you again”

“To the places that your heart longs to see”

“But for now, my sweet child, be at peace and know”

“That you are right where I want you to be”

A Girl Named Little - Part 4

2011-05-13T17:21:00.000-07:00

To read...
A Girl Named Little - Part 1 - click here
A Girl Named Little - Part 2 - click here
A Girl Named Little - Part 3 - click here

A Bit About Little
“We’re moving.” Little’s mom and dad were sitting in front of her, looking a little bit nervous about what they were saying, worried that Little would be upset. “Your dad has been transferred to Colorado.”

Little had only ever lived in the same small town in California. She was only 9 years old, but her childhood ended 3 years ago when her grandfather first touched her. She had lived an entire lifetime in that small town, and she was ready to leave. She would surely miss her friends, and she was afraid of the unknown that awaited her in Colorado, but the joy of moving away from her grandfather wiped away the fears.

‘It’s almost over,’ Little thought. ‘I can’t believe it’s almost over.’

What Little didn’t realize at her young age was that, although she could run from her circumstances, she could not run from her broken soul. And time does not necessarily heal all wounds.

Little would spend the next 11 years believing she had successfully escaped her grandfather…believing that what he did had no effect on her. Her depression? Insecurity? Fear? Self-hated? Those didn’t come from what her grandfather had done…no…those were her fault. If she only read her Bible more, prayed longer, then she’d feel better.

Little couldn’t see how the tendrils of shame were wrapped around her soul…she couldn’t see how those 3 years had transformed her entire being…made her a different person than she would otherwise have been.

Eventually the tendrils would slowly let loose, one at a time, but not until Little learned to face the pain, admit the truth, and share her secret.

But that’s a story for another day…

Why I Don't Write...

2011-05-09T13:56:00.000-07:00

I haven’t written in a while. Why? I’ve been trying to figure out the answer to that question, and I think I now know.

I want you to like me…I want you to be moved by my writing…I want to make you think…I want to touch your soul. I definitely don’t want to disappoint you.

So if I don’t have anything that seems significantly touching, I don’t write. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, it’s just that I don’t think it’s deep enough, or profound enough, or important enough.

Well, I’ve decided to be done with that way of thinking. I’ve decided to write whether it seems especially touching or not. I’ve decided to write for myself, and pray that it also touches you. I’ve decided to stop evaluating my writing on whether it’s “good enough,” and instead, just let it be what it is. I’ve decided to stop over-thinking it.

It’s good for me, and hopefully, at least sometimes, it will be good for you.

Do you find yourself holding back from something that you love to do, simply because you’re afraid it won’t be “good enough” for others?

A Girl Named Little, Part 3 - The Shame That Grows

2011-04-21T22:39:00.000-07:00

To read "A Girl Named Little, Part 1"- click here
To read "A Girl Named Little, Part 2"- click here

A Bit About Little
Little was sitting on his lap again. “Why don’t I just say no? Why do I sit on his lap when he says to? This is all my fault.” They were on the back patio, sitting on an old, faded blue metal patio chair. Grandma was inside cooking or sewing or cleaning. Little didn’t know which, but she wished Grandma would come outside. Grandpa had one hand on her breast and one hand on her pants, as if these were just normal places to rest his hands. He was talking about something, but Little wasn’t listening.   She was distracted by her discomfort…her fear…her self-berating.

Suddenly there was a sound from the back door. Grandma was coming! Little jumped up and sprinted to the door to greet her!
“Hi Grandma!” Little was almost breathless from her excitement.
“Hi Little,” Grandma answered. “I just wanted you to know that we’ll have dinner in about a half hour.”
“Okay Grandma, “ Little said through the screen door.   “Are you coming outside?”
“No sweetie. I have to cook dinner now.”
“Okay.” Little felt defeated…her excitement faded.

She walked back to Grandpa. She didn’t know why she went back to him, but somehow she just knew that he would expect her to…and that she had to.

“Come sit back down, Little.” Grandpa said. So she did. His hands went back into position, and he whispered in her ear, “Don’t jump up like that when Grandma comes, or she’ll figure out our secret.”

‘Our little secret,’ Little thought to herself, ‘this is all my fault.’

A Bit of Inspiration
Shame. It’s the fungus that grows in the darkness of our secrets.

It’s one of the things that makes me really angry with Adam and Eve (another is the whole “pain in childbirth” thing…could’ve done without that, thank you Eve). Before the whole fruit incident, Adam and Eve didn’t feel any shame. They experienced total freedom…nakedness.

“Adam and his wife were naked and felt no shame.” Gen. 2:25

Naked. The thought of it makes middle-schoolers giggle and newlyweds smile. And although Adam and Eve were physically naked, there was much more to this word than simply not wearing any clothes. No, this was more…something much deeper and more intimate than physical nakedness. This was true freedom. Complete vulnerability…complete openness…complete knowing…complete sharing…with no shame…no guilt…no hiding…no secrets. This characterized their relationship with each other and with the Lord.

Then came the aforementioned fruit incident. And now they hid. First they hid their bodies, “Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.” (Gen 3:7, NIV) The first secret…born out of shame. Then, to top it off, they tried to hide from God. Okay, seriously, they hid behind a bush in the garden that God had created…did they really think He wouldn’t find them? Probably not. But their shame drove them into hiding.

There is an interesting dichotomy that exists between shame and secrets. We keep a secret because we are ashamed of something, and our shame grows in the darkness of our secret. As long as we bury that secret…deep into the soil of our soul…the shame grows.

But there is a way to break this cycle, and although it is not easy, it is necessary. The only way to get rid of the shame is to cut it off at its source…the secret.   Whether our secret is born of our own sin or of someone else’s sin (as it was for Little) we must bring that secret into the light…we must tell the truth.

Little does eventually tell the truth…but that is still much further along in our story.   I hope you’ll keep coming back to hear more about her journey. But for now, I’ll leave you with this….

Are you holding a secret, born out of shame, that is now breeding more and more shame in your soul? Is it heavy? If so, please…I beg of you…consider telling the truth…consider shining light on those hidden places.

If you have no one you can tell, then tell me. Leave it here as an anonymous post, or email me at kim@gobruces.com. I can’t solve your problem…but I can listen, and I can pray for you.

A Girl Named Little, Part 2 - A Childlike Faith

2011-04-18T19:30:00.000-07:00

If you haven't read Part 1 of "A Girl Named Little," you can find it here.

A bit about Little

“One in every three females will be sexually abused in some manner in their lifetime.” Little was in the car with her mom when she heard this on the radio. It had been at least a year since that fateful night when her grandfather offered to stay home from a family trip to the movies to babysit her. At least a year since the first time he touched her and forced her to touch him.

Over that year, Little had grown numb to the weight of the secret she was carrying. She had made a choice not to tell; not to risk upsetting her family; and although she was terrified, she was going to stick to that decision.

Little couldn’t stop thinking about what she had just heard. “One in every three,” the radio announcer had said.

‘Okay,’ thought Little, ‘if it’s one in every three, and I am one, then I can pick two other girls to never have to go through this.” Little was only 7 years old. She didn’t understand statistics. So she said a prayer, right there in the car, in silence of course, for her two best friends. “God, I pick Tanya and Jenny. I’ll be the one for the three of us. Now they will be safe. Now they will never be abused.” Little wasn’t really asking, she was telling. It gave her a good feeling to be able to save her friends, since it was too late for anyone to save her. Not many things gave her a really good feeling anymore, but protecting her friends…that was worth feeling good about!

A bit of Inspiration

One question that I’m sure Little will want to ask in Heaven is, “God, did you protect Tanya and Jenny… Did you honor that innocent yet profound prayer spoken from the heart of a young child?” She’ll ask that question only because she has now grown up, and as a ‘grown-up’ she wonders.

But if Little had gone to Heaven while she was still ‘little,’ she wouldn’t have thought to ask…she would have simply assumed it had been done.

Somewhere in the process of growing up…in the midst of all of our learning, growing and maturing, we lose something important…childlike faith.

Mark 10:14-15 says, “…Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. ¹⁵ Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” (NIV) The Message version of verse 15 says, “Unless you accept God's kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in."

Little saw God with simplicity. She asked fully expecting to receive, and it brought her a joy that nothing else in her life could bring her. If she couldn’t trust that God would answer her prayer, there would have been nothing to feel good about.

As an adult, I don’t just accept God’s faithfulness so easily. I question, I explain, I analyze. I put God in a “logic box,” so that I can maybe grasp some sort of understanding of what is happening around me. If I learn to really trust His faithfulness and if I expect Him to fulfill His promises, I might have a lot more to feel good about as well!

What does a ‘childlike faith’ look like to you? Do you know any adults who have one? Do you have one?

(Keep checking back for more about Little's story...there're so many secrets to uncover.)

The Weight of Our Secrets and the Freedom of Letting Go (or, A Girl Named “Little”).

2011-04-15T22:03:00.000-07:00

This post is the first in a series. Each post will begin with a bit of Little’s story (Little is a fictional name, but a real girl), and end with a bit of inspiration. I hope you enjoy it…I hope it speaks to you….and I hope you add a comment to let me know.

Part 1 - A Secret is Born..The First Weight

A bit of Little's story...It was 1977, and the girl named “Little” was 6 years old.

“We’re going to a movie,” Little’s mom said. “It’s called Close Encounters of the 3^rd Kind.”

“That sounds really scary mom. I don’t want to go,” said Little.

Mom sighed, “Honey there’s no one to stay home with you. We’re all going.”

Little looked up at her family members all standing in the kitchen of her grandparents’ house. Her dad, mom, two brothers, grandma and grandpa looked back at her with awaiting looks. ‘So, let’s go,’ is what she read on their faces.

Little’s grandpa spoke up, “Oh, I don’t care so much about that movie. I’ll stay home with Little. You all go ahead.” Little’s mom started to object, “She’ll be fine…just come wi…” but Grandpa interrupted, “No, really. I’m happy to stay home with her.”

‘Whew,’ Little thought, ‘saved by Grandpa! Now I can stay here, read books, watch TV and eat ice cream, with no scary alien movie!’

But Little didn’t know that the events of this night would change her life forever…would change her forever. It was on this night that a 6 year old girl named “Little” would lose her innocence…lose her trust…lose her safe place.

This was also the night that Little picked up a heavy weight… the weight of a secret….a weight she would carry alone for 14 years.

A bit of Inspiration...
If you’ve ever worked out at a gym, you’ve probably watched the following scene play out at some point…

A guy decides to saunter into one of the group exercise classes (usually 95% populated by women) just to see what it’s about. Or maybe to meet a girl…or maybe just to show off…or maybe to actually get a good work out. After some stretching and warming-up, the class members are instructed to get a pair of weights for the next set of exercises. “Remember, start light,” the trainer says.

The guy watches the ladies choosing weights labeled 2lbs and 3lbs. He looks at these slim ladies…looks at his toned biceps…and chooses the 5lbs. He doesn’t want to look like a show-off by choosing the 10lbs weights, but he has to choose heavier weights than the ladies. Plus, 5lbs is nothing…they almost fly off the weight rack as he picks them up.

As the workout begins, all is going well for our guy. The exercises are mostly yoga-type poses…calm…slow. In most of them, the class members are instructed to hold their weights out to the side, or in front. No multiple reps…just steady, continual weight bearing.

At first this is easy, but about 15 minutes into this class, our guy starts to sense that the weights are feeling a bit heavier. Ten more minutes go by, and he’s wondering if they are mislabeled…these no longer feel like the airy 5 pounders anymore. Or maybe someone switched his 5lbs weights with 15lbs weights when he wasn’t looking. These things are heavy, and getting heavier by the moment.

As hard as our guy tries, he eventually has to give up. These small 5lbs weights are now too heavy to bear…his muscles are too tired to hold them any longer. He sets his weights down, pretends that he sees someone he knows across the gym, and leaves the room.

Little carries the weight of a secret. She thinks she can carry it alone. She thinks that if she just keeps carrying it…trying to pretend that it doesn’t exist…it will eventually go away. The truth is, though, that the weight of a secret grows heavier, and heavier, and heavier the longer we carry it…until we can carry it no longer. Then what do we do? The answer isn't easy...but it is simple. And it brings freedom beyond compare. (But that's a few posts down the road, so stick with me!)

In The Weight of Our Secrets and the Freedom of Letting Go – Part 2, we’ll hear more about Little, and we’ll hear what happens to her under the weight of her secret. But for now, I ask you this…is there a secret that you carry? It could be something that happened to you, something that you’ve done, or something that you are still doing. Are you carrying it alone? Do you feel it getting heavier?

If yes, ask God to begin to prepare you to tell your secret. Then keep reading this series, and lets just see where God takes us…you, me and Little…together.

A Poem...or Really Odd Prose.

2011-04-11T22:26:00.000-07:00

It's late...I'm tired...I'm trying to be disciplined (yes, Ken Davis...you inspired me) to get up early for a workout and quiet time. But as I was getting ready for bed (brushing my teeth to be exact) this poem came over me...I don't know where it came from (hopefully from God), or why it came at such an odd time...but it did. And it doesn't even rhyme (which makes my husband doubt if it is 'legitimate'). So whether it's really a poem, or just really odd prose...here it is...I hope it touches your heart...I think God means it for at least one of you...and for me.

Life with you is a dichotomy

Beyond what our logic can resolve

We try to put you in a box

Make you who we want you to be

Make you into something…someone

Who we can understand

Living in the gray is too difficult for us

We want black…we want white

We want wrong…we want right

We want to control

Ourselves…

And others…

And you

We can’t live in the in-between

For too long

We need to get somewhere…

Do something…

Get the answer we’ve been looking for

But then the question changes

We must die

In order to live

We must be last

In order to be first

We must give

In order to receive

We must be humble

In order to be raised up

We must sacrifice

In order to gain

We must be weak

In order to be strong

We must be poor

In order to be rich

We must be less

In order to be more

We get lost in the confusion

We try to figure it all out

While you whisper…

Whisper…

Child, follow Me

But, how, Oh Lord…exactly

How do we follow you?

We want a plan…a to-do list

A sure-fire system

That will work…

Whatever that really means

Again you whisper…

Just a whisper…

See what I did?

Do it…

See who I loved?

Love them…

Hear what I said?

Speak it…

See where I went?

Go there…

And rest, sweet child

In my freedom

In my peace

In my joy

You will not always know

But that is not the point

That is not faith

I have not called you to understand

I have called you to trust

Now trust me…

On Work, Discipline, and Being Fully Alive

2011-04-10T14:20:00.000-07:00

Discipline…it’s always been one of my least favorite words. The sound of it conjures up the image of a thin, well-toned woman, eating a salad after her 2 hour workout. After lunch she’ll clean the house, clip the coupons, weed the garden, and do the laundry (including actually putting the clean clothes away) before the kids get home from school. She’ll then help them with their homework and sit with them to play a game before cooking a 3-course healthy, balanced meal for the family. She’ll go to bed at night feeling “good tired” and wake up early the next day to have her 1 hour quiet time before beginning her day.

I don’t dislike this woman personally…she’s probably a wonderful friend. She’ll never forget your birthday, she’ll always fulfill her promises to you, and she’ll never have halitosis because she brushes and flosses after every meal and snack.

What I don’t like is…

how this woman’s life reminds me of my own lack of discipline. I thought about exercising today…I actually think about it every day…does that count for nothing??
the “less-than” feeling that comes over me when I see someone who lives a life of discipline.
the sense of “ugh” that I feel when I think about how I should be more disciplined

Last week on the Re:create cruise, Michael Hyatt and Ken Davis each talked about the value of work and discipline in creativity and in life. (Click on their names to link to their blogs, where you can read more from each of them on these subjects) While listening to these men talk about those two words…work and discipline…one of which actually is a four-letter word and another one that should be…I unexpectedly felt something change inside of me.

Instead of the “ugh” of laziness, I felt the movement of motivation.

Instead of the pressure of “I have to,” I felt the excitement of “I get to”.

Instead of focusing on the act of disciplined work, I began to feel motivated by the results of disciplined work. The words are still the same, but my focus has shifted.

Rather than dreading the act of exercise (because it usually isn’t great fun), I can be motivated by the results of exercise…physically living life more fully alive!
Rather than putting off the act of writing (because I don’t know what to say, or I don’t feel like really thinking, or I don’t think I’m good enough), I can be motivated by the results of writing…emotionally and mentally living life more fully alive!
Rather than prioritizing sleep over the act of waking up for a morning quiet time (because, like Ken Davis, I do not do well on less than 8 hours of sleep), I can be motivated by the results of the quiet time…spiritually living life more fully alive!

John 10:10 says, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full”.

To the FULL…don’t miss that…to the FULL! But that takes work and discipline…no one who just sits around all day is taking full advantage of the life he has been given.

So my challenge to you (and to myself) is this…go…work…be disciplined…and live life fully alive!

Question: What "fully alive" experiences are you missing out on because don't want to do the disciplined work that it takes to get there?

I'm STILL a Creative: 8 Hours Later

2011-04-09T08:19:00.000-07:00

How quickly I forget. How quickly I move from assurance to doubt. How quickly I shift from confidence to insecurity.

Yesterday morning I wrote a poem pronouncing “I am a Creative”! Then, only 8 hours later, after reading some of the absolutely brilliant blog posts written by fellow re:create cruise travelers, I sat there thinking that I don’t even come close. As I shared my thoughts with my husband he smiled and simply said, “Honey, just be you.”

At one of our sessions on the cruise this week, the fabulous Ken Davis (and not just fabulously funny, by the way, but also fabulously humble, passionate, honest and wise) was talking about just being yourself, and he said something like, “If I don’t do ‘me’ then ‘me’ don’t get done.” I think he was actually quoting someone else (and that I’ve, in turn, misquoted him), but you get the point.

“If I don’t do ‘me’ then ‘me’ don’t get done.” What if I don’t like ‘me’? What if I spend my time wanting ‘me’ to be ‘her’ or ‘him’ or some crazy combination of ‘them’?

The Bible says that I’m created in the image of God, but am I the only one that sometimes feels like the red-headed step-child in God’s family tree? (and it doesn’t help that my natural hair color is red!) Am I the only one that feels like the best parts of God’s image were handed out while I was on a potty break?

My new friend Idelette is beautiful, fun, confident and creative. Not to mention that she can pull off wearing big rings on her fingers, and big flowers in her hair! I only met her a week ago (which is a story in and of itself) yet I know she will forever be in my life. Idelette was definitely in line with the “good stuff” got handed out, and I want to be more like her!

I also got to know Sam (now known as Vancouver Sam), a 24 year old Canadian creative with big ideas and the guts to make them happen! When God handed out the “I have something important to say” gene, Sam was first in line. He’s got ambition, faith, a strong will, and a creative gift. He’s going to go far. I wish I’d had his confidence when I was 24…heck, I wish I had his confidence now!

Then there’s Ben, who happens to be Sam’s brother. At the age of 22, Ben is already a war veteran. He has seen things that no one should have to see, yet he approaches life with a smile on his face. He has dreams of opening a camp for teen boys, to teach them what it really means to be a Godly man. I believe his dream will come true, and there will be an entire generation of Canadian men who are more respectful, kind, hopeful and adventurous because Ben is in God’s family tree.

I could go on and on about the people with whom I spent my time this week, and I will share more about them in future posts. But the point here is…if any of these new friends of mine decide not to be themselves, not to fully embrace the ‘me’ that they are, the world will be worse for it. And I will be worse for it, because I adore them, and I want them to be all that God made them to be.

And as hard as it is for me to imagine, I think maybe they want the same for me. So no matter how I feel, the truth is the truth…I am God’s child…valued and valuable…created and creative, and “if I don’t do ‘me’ then ‘me’ don’t get done.”

Inspiration from Re:Create...a defining moment

2011-04-08T11:07:00.000-07:00

Today is a defining day for me. Today is the day I stop saying that I’m a “wanna-be”. Today is the day I stop saying that “I just like to write”.

Today is the day that I claim the label “creative”. I am a creative. I AM a creative. Let me say it again, I am a CREATIVE.

So, I wrote a poem about it…

Today I Call Myself a Creative

Today is a day of definition!

A day to make a choice

The turning toward a new direction

The birth of a new voice

Today is a day of battle!

The war that rages inside of me

“NO YOU CAN’T” is yelled by the oppressor

While the Truth whispers, “this is who you were made to be”

Today is a day of imagination!

Of allowing my eyes to see

The potential of where He is leading

The movement of Him inside of me

Today is a day of conquering!

The fear that has tied my hands

That has kept me from the fullest life

Already written for me in His plans

Today is a day of momentum!

No more waiting for the ideas to come

It is time now to work, to focus, to move

To risk…to create…to become.

“In the beginning God created…” Genesis 1:1

**To Michael Hyatt, Ken Davis, Pete Wilson and Randy Elrod…thank you for giving me the courage, through your examples and your words this week, to finally claim this truth and step into it. The Re:Create cruise will always stand out as a defining moment in my life.

A Letter To Depression, Anxiety and Fear

2011-03-03T09:51:00.000-08:00

In my mind I know that you are my worst enemy, but you're all I've ever known. I didn't ask for you to be a part of my life; others invited you into my soul. You have guided my life in so many ways; making my decisions, forming my ideas about the world and myself in it.

You were with me before I even knew you. You took up residence in a place inside me where only Jesus belongs. You've taken up His space for too long.

But I don't know how to let go of you. As I said, you are all that I know. I have defined myself by you for so many years, and I am afraid to let you go.

Who will I be without you in my life? What will I feel? Can I handle the change? In the same way that a battered woman stays with her abuser, there's a part of me that wants to stay with you. I know how to live with you, even though you have threatened to take my life more than once. You have been my constant companion, my definition.

Do I dare to hope that there is a better life without you? Do I dare to dream that you will really go away? Do I dare to say that I really want you to be gone? Do I dare to believe that I deserve a change?

What if you leave and I am nothing without you? What if you are all there is to me?

Although the fear I feel about letting you go is illogical...nonsensical...it is time to face that fear. It is time to say good-bye.

I must insist that you move on...that you allow me to be "me" without you. You need to pack up your things and give up your space in my soul. There is a true Lover who wants to take over...who desires all of me. I cannot give Him that until you leave.

I don't know what life will be like without you, and I'm discouraged to find myself grieving the loss. But it is time. It is time for my Lover to fully move in...to unpack all that He has for my soul.

I know you well, and I know that you will try to hold on. You will not leave quietly. But my Lover will stand firm at the threshold...He is stronger than I am, and His love for me is greater. He has already fought and died for me once...I can trust that He will protect me now.

So this is good-bye, farewall, adios. I ask you to leave for good. I deserve better, and its time to live in that truth.

Sincerely,
Kim

The Beauty of a Woman

2010-09-19T19:00:00.000-07:00

For Lindsey Glasier, as she turns 21...

The beauty of a woman

Is not in the way she combs her hair

But in the gentle care she gives to a friend

When life is too much to bear

The beauty of a woman

Is not in the clothing that she adorns

But in a humble heart of compassion

That mourns with those who mourn

The beauty of a woman

Is not in the color of her eyes

But in the worship that she expresses

To the Lord who holds her life

The beauty of a woman

Is not in the shape of her physique

But in the way she loves her neighbors

The poor, the needy, the weak

The beauty of a woman

Comes out of her heart for the Lord

When His light shines in her life

And in heaven her treasure is stored

A Broken Heart

2010-09-17T22:34:00.000-07:00

Do I really want to ask Him

To break my heart for what breaks His

Would my world ever be the same again

Would I ever see through my tears

He weeps over our sin

And our sin is everywhere

He hurts when we hurt

It would be more than I could bear

Would I ever pass by a neighbor

Without asking about his day

Without caring about her heart

Instead of hurrying on my way

Would I ever pass the homeless man

Begging on the street

Without looking him straight in the eyes

And allowing our souls to meet

Would I ever allow an orphaned child

To go hungry or without a home

Without doing everything I could possibly do

To let him know he is not alone

Would I ever again look into my own heart

Without feeling the weight of my sin

Without recognizing the sacrifice He made

And that He would do it all over again

Lord, I want to pray for you to break my heart

Over the same things that break yours

But teach me how to be strong, oh God

When You give me your eyes for the poor

And when you show me the truth of a person’s life

And it breaks my heart more than I can bear

Let me love them in the same way you would do

Show them You in the way that I care

So, yes God, I DO pray

Break my heart for what breaks Yours

And let my brokenness bring glory to You

My healer, my protector, my Lord

We battle not against flesh and blood...

2010-09-12T21:54:00.000-07:00

Like a gentle breeze it swirls around me
This breath from another realm
It moves through me and suddenly I sense it
It's the lie that overwhelms

It tells me I'm not good enough
It tells me they don't care
These people that surround me
Would be fine if I weren't here

The Truth tries to find its way in
It battles for first place
But I give in to the lie that I believe to be truth
And let my mind accept its embrace

I listen to it as it whispers
What good are you to them?
They don't need you; they don't want you.
And the heaviness sets in

But then...

NO, I say, Evil One back away!
You are not welcome here.
My mind does not belong to you
I will fight you without fear

I am loved beyond all measure
Thoughts of me bring joy to His face
You will not convince me otherwise
You are a liar, a deceiver, a disgrace.

You had your chance to be loved by Him
You gave it all away
Your pride and arrogance was your downfall
Your need to be in first place

But God holds me in His mighty, gentle hands
He gives me a purpose and a hope
His glory and strength will reign in me
His peace in my spirit overflow

He has placed in my path people of faith
Who love me for exactly who I am
You will not take them away from me
With your lies and your evil plans

So praise God from whom all blessings flow
For His Spirit, His Peace, His Truth
That the father of lies has no power here
In the heart of one saved by You

You asked for it...

2010-08-19T11:54:00.000-07:00

As some of you know, I have applied to Regis University's Masters in Counseling program. I'm hoping to begin there this fall. This morning, I went to the final stage of the application process...a "group interview"...SCARY!!!

The thought of a group interview was nerve wracking! I wanted to "be myself", yet make sure I said all the right things. As the interview day was approaching, my thoughts were more and more on myself...what will I say...will they like me...how should I act...what should I wear...should I be outgoing and funny, or quiet and mature...on and on...

So this morning, as I was driving through rush hour traffic on I-25 trying to get to the interview on time, I began to pray. I asked the Lord to calm my worries and fears. I asked him that whether I get into to program or not, to please allow me to glorify Him in some way during the interviews today. "Make this time about you Lord, not about me." I figured if I don't get into the program, at least today was not wasted if I've honored Him in it.

I arrived at Regis a little bit early...whew!
We started with a large group meeting where the faculty was introduced and we were given an overview of the program. Then the dreaded moment arrived...we split into small groups (5 in our group) for the "interview". (insert scary music here...) We were told by the faculty member overseeing our group that we would be asked 3 questions, one at a time, and the group would simply discuss while the faculty member observed (and took notes...more scary music here). Okay...take a deep breathe...(I'm still praying.."let me glorify you Lord, let me glorify you...this is not about me, this is about you").

First question..."In private practice all counselors serve someone or something. As a counselor, what or who will you serve?"

Are you kidding me? I have to smile as I think about it! God said, "You asked for it...here's your chance."

I don't know if my answer will help or hurt me in the application process. I do know, though, that I had the opportunity to proclaim that I serve Christ. All in all, no matter what happens, that makes today a good day.

How to fight...

2010-08-18T15:02:00.000-07:00

My son was on the school bus one day this week and heard another kid call him a terrorist. Really? Why? Because we lived in the Middle East for 18 months? My first instinct was anger and fear…

Anger that my son was called a name
Anger that anyone could be so ignorant as to label someone as a terrorist simply because they spent time in the Middle East
Fear that my son might be hurt or bullied because of a decision we made to live overseas.

Some friends suggested trying homeschooling or (at least) getting him off that bus and driving him to school. I know these comments come from a spirit of love and protection (mixed with a little fear).

And the truth is that the boy on the bus was also speaking from a spirit of fear (where all bullying comes from, really)…but, we don’t fight fear with more fear.

We fight fear with Faith…

Faith in a God who is bigger.
Faith in a God who loves.
Faith in a God who hurts over our sin, not for his own sake, but for ours.
Faith in a God who wants nothing more than to pour his grace on us (and on that kid from the bus) so much so that it can’t help but overflow onto others.
Faith in a God who has a plan that is so much bigger than any of us, and could do it all himself, yet allows us to be a part of it.

And…

Faith in a God that will use my son, and me, and you in the lives of people who are filled with fear…to show them faith.

A Poem

2010-08-17T15:01:00.000-07:00

He hovers over the city…invisible
His heart wells with compassion…love…grace…desire
His Spirit begs their understanding…”let Me in”

He hovers over them…barely containing his grace…his soul begging to let it go free.
His Spirit roams…searching hearts for an opening, even a small nick in their armor of deeds.
Oh to lift that armor off of their shoulders; for them to feel the lightness…like air…freedom.
Oh, to be allowed to pour out His grace…to rain it down on them…
To flood the streets, the homes, the Mosques,
With the one thing they are missing.

He begs to His Father, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.
They are trapped by the evil one…the one who disguises himself as good…the one who disguises himself in culture, tradition, religion.
They know me as a prophet…I want them to know me as the Son of God
They know me as a teacher…I want them to know me as the Truth”

They measure their deeds, they strive to please, they work, they toil, they labor…in vain.
To release them from that strain…that’s why He came.
Again he begs, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

He hovers over this world…
His heart wells with compassion…love…grace…desire
His Spirit begs their understanding…”let Me in”

He hovers over me…
His heart wells with compassion…love…grace…desire
His Spirit begs my understanding…”let Me in”
He whispers, “To release you from your strain…that’s why I came.”