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LentRecently, I read that Christians should share their testimonies more intentionally and more frequently.

I must admit that up until the last ten years or so I thought testimonies were only about how you came to know Christ as your savior.  That happened for me when I was five.  I never felt that I had much of a testimony.

Now, I know that our testimony is much more fluid and ever changing.  It’s about our whole lives.  It’s little things and big things.

My faith has been tested on many occasions, but I’d like to take this time to discuss the two times I see as pivotal right now.  When I was sixteen and when I was forty.

By the time I reached the age of sixteen, very little had challenged my Christian walk.  I mistakenly believed that being a Christian was relatively easy.  Then my parents got a divorce.  My whole world flipped. Nothing made sense to me. And while I don’t really think I blamed God, I took my eyes off of Him.  I turned to my own strength and failed to acknowledge that He could make something good out of all the pain I was experiencing.  In the aftermath of the divorce, I made choices that were less than wise, and I did that for almost ten years.

In 2005-2006, I finally forgave myself of the bad choices and started working my way back to what God meant for my life.  I liken it to CS Lewis’s Eustace when he knows that he is not supposed to be a dragon, but Aslan has to rip the skin away to show the new and improved Eustace.

Skip ahead to when I’m forty.  Steven and I lose three grandparents and two babies in the course of a year.  Another life flipping year.

But there was a difference.

I kept my eyes on God.  On the promises of scripture, specifically Romans 8:28: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”

I don’t think this necessarily made the events any easier to handle.  But it kept me from making subsequent choices that may have compounded the pain and struggle I was experiencing.  Tears were still shed. Anger was still expressed. Confusion was still felt.

But instead of keeping all those feelings to myself, I let God handle them.  He’s better at it.  I followed His lead and nudging. I admitted my own weaknesses and together Steven and I continued to work through our experience. We helped each other let God help us.

I don’t know if any of this makes any kind of sense.  I do know that having faith in God doesn’t eliminate trials. But maybe it redirects our responses to those trials, if we keep our eyes on it. . .which also isn’t all that easy sometimes.

And maybe that is why testimony is so important.  To remind each other that none of us thinks it’s easy.


Prayer Works?


Before I continue, I would like to state that I do believe that prayer is important.  I also fear I will be unable to communicate clearly my thoughts in this post. But, nonetheless, I shall try.

For a little over a month I have been ruminating {Steven’s term} on the phrase “prayer works.” It caught my ear while I was listening to the radio and someone called in to extol the power of prayer.  For some reason, it bothered me.

I believe the phrase is, indeed, meant as a praise to the power of God.  However, what does it mean when a friend prays for healing but dies? Or a couple prays for a child but never has one? Or a young person prays for the job but doesn’t get it? Is prayer “working” in these instances? I’m not sure it’s fair or appropriate to simply say, well, those just weren’t meant to be.

During my rumination, my thoughts have continuously been drawn to David’s first child with Bathsheba.  We are told in 2 Samuel 12 that the son will die.  And when he becomes ill after birth, David pleads with God for the child, fasting and lying on the ground.  But the child dies.  David’s servants fear to tell him this news, but when he finds out, he gets up, washes, eats, worships the Lord, and continues with his life. . .not without grief.  He tells his household that while the child lived, there was still hope that God might be gracious.

Was this prayer working?

I remember when we found out that Little’s heartbeat was too slow and the size too small, that I prayed.  I prayed to God that I wanted that child. But I also prayed that I wanted God more.

Prayer does work.  But I believe we have to be careful how we use the phrase and in what way we evaluate working.  Prayer is not a magic potion. I think, in my limited way, that for both me and David, prayer is surrendered worship. It’s a conduit to a stronger relationship with the Father.

In the last year, I have become especially sensitive to the phrases we use in our Christianity and faith and what message they convey. Perhaps this is why I have spent so much time mulling over this particular one. I’m still not sure that I can properly vocalize what it is about “prayer works” that bothers me.  I think because it inadvertently separates believers. Praying believers begin to question if their prayers are wrong because they don’t receive the blessing or healing or understanding for which they are pleading.

But humble prayer is not wrong. Talk with God. Share with Him your hopes and dreams and fears and failures. Perhaps that is how prayer works.  By sharing these things we are able to feel more at peace and more confident as we journey WITH Him on Earth.

One of my grandmother’s favorite hymns was In the Garden. Have a listen and hear the sweetness and power of prayer.

Dear Nugget


It’s been a year. I’m not sure what to tell you about this past year.  At least not anything that is new and insightful. All the regular cliches come to mind–especially that one about how the earth keeps spinning despite what is happening in my life.

That sounds melodramatic, and I can see you rolling your eyes at me just like any good child would at his mother.  I can smile at that thought.

My experience with you has lead me to believe that not enough mothers and fathers realize how often pregnancy loss happens.  I understand some of the shush–the questions that surround a pregnancy loss. There’s a struggle with validity of loss.  But, it is a loss.  There’s the loss of the real and the imagined {your father wrote an amazing piece about just that thing when we lost your little}. So, you my Nugget, have placed a passion in me to somehow normalize the sharing of pregnancy loss.  The “secrecy” places too much pressure on those who experience it. . .too much blame. . .too much guilt–when in reality we just need people to listen and acknowledge our grief.

Grief. . .that’s the other thing that I have been learning this past year.  It’s a doozy. And it’s not a prescribed so many steps program.  It lifts its head unexpectedly and demands attention.  And wouldn’t it be so much better if we all felt that we could just do that. . .give grief attention when it needs it and not feel guilty? Because here’s the thing. . .every person on earth is going to have to do that very thing at some point.

Oh, dear Nugget, our lives changed because of you.  We knew they would from the minute you announced your presence, but we had no idea it would be in this manner.  I miss you and wish you were here, but I also know that what has transpired in the last year has brought your father and me together in a way that otherwise wouldn’t have happened.  Our love and awe of our God is stronger.  Our love of each other is stronger. There’s nothing to say that your presence today wouldn’t have produced the same results. . .and I’m not ashamed to say that I sure would have liked to have seen that. But I’m grateful for this year.


After your little I decided to do something to honor you two.  I hope you like it.  When your father and I went to Savannah after losing you, he jokingly asked me if I wanted to get a tattoo after passing a shop.  I immediately knew that it would be Romans 8:28.  I don’t have stretch marks or any other tell-tell signs of pregnancy  {though I do have the scars where Dr. D took you from me}. But I have this. My prayer is that it reminds me of God and you and your little and that maybe someone will notice it sometime and feel it’s ok to talk about their loss too.




I love you, Nugget.

Lessons from Narnia–Edmund


Chronicles“‘Please–Aslan,’ said Lucy, ‘can anything  be done to save Edmund?’

‘All shall be done,’ said Aslan. ‘But it may be harder than you think.'”

And so it is apparent that Edmund needs saving.  And notice Lewis’ use of the dash in Lucy’s plea, drawing out the intensity of her desire to help her lost brother.  As an English teacher, that dash speaks volumes.  As a Christian, I feel the anguish.  She wants nothing more.

Our dear Edmund not only needs saving from the White Witch, but he needs saving from his own selfishness.  He betrayed his siblings, his brethren, for the promise of pleasure and notoriety and position.  There are inferences we can make about why he desires these things–Peter is the oldest and receives much attention; Edmund never seems to do things quite right; Edmund wants to be grown up and taken seriously and the White Witch offers him this.  But let’s be honest.  When you boil all those things down, Edmund really just wanted to be noticed, pure and simple.  In his humanness he desired attention.

Was it selfish?  Of course.

Are we all like this? Absolutely.

We want to feel important to others.  We want to be valued.

It is a constant struggle to put ourselves aside and do as Paul instructs: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:3-4)

And herein, I am so like Edmund.  How do I put those things aside?  That desire to be valued and important and let others’ needs be ahead of my own?

It is only through God.

“‘Here is your brother,’ he [Aslan] said, ‘and–there is no need to talk to him about what is past.'”

Isn’t that beautiful? God takes it; oh, how so very often I need God to take what is past and help me move on.  It is in what happens next that I learn from Edmund.

“‘You have a traitor there, Aslan,’ said the Witch. Of course everyone present knew that she meant Edmund. But Edmund had got past thinking about himself after all he’d been through and after the talk he’d had that morning. He just went on looking at Aslan. It didn’t seem to matter what the Witch said.”

Edmund keeps his eyes on Aslan and all that he was doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter what the Witch tries to stir in him–doubts, grief, shame–Edmund’s eyes are on Aslan.  Later, as he continues to focus on Aslan he realizes that nothing is expected of him–no more apology, no begging, nothing–except to wait and do as he is told by Aslan.

I will fail; it is in my nature.  I will fight my selfishness.

But it will be a much easier fight if I keep my eyes on God.

He has already done all to save me though it was much harder than I can ever imagine.

Quotations from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis copyright 1950, Collier Books Macmillan Publishing Company, New York.

Lessons from Narnia–Eustace


ChroniclesI asked my BFF which character I should discuss in this week’s Lesson from Narnia. She said less people would talk about Eustace, so I should go with him. To this, I said “Ah, Eustace is my favorite.” This caused some surprise on her part–she doesn’t care for him.

Let’s see if I can explain why Eustace is my favorite.

Yes, Eustace is an insufferable prick in the beginning of The Voyage of the “Dawn Treader.” And not just in the beginning. He stays that way for a long time.

But it is Eustace, therefore, that has the most astounding transformation.

Eustace is a hateful child. He’s mean to his cousins, Lucy and Edmund. When he gets sucked into the painting with them he whines (and, oh, how I hate whining). Then to top it all off he turns out to be thief.

But perhaps this is the start of why he is my favorite. I see my own flaws through him. How many times have I whined because I’ve been sucked into something that I really didn’t want to experience? Here he is in one of the most beautiful lands and all he can do is whine. I’ve done that. How many times have I treated those around me with disdain? And how many blessings have I robbed others of?

But Aslan knew that he had to suck Eustace into Narnia so he could be transformed. . .and, boy, is he.

Eustace’s thievery leads him to literally becoming a dragon. A miserable dragon, but one who starts to realize that he has been wrong. Thus my favorite passage in the entire series. It’s on page 90 in my copy of The Voyage of the “Dawn Treader”. It’s too long to quote completely here. . .but here’s some of its beauty:

“Well, he [Aslan] peeled the beastly stuff right off–just as I thought I’d done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt–and there it [dragon skin] was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly looking than the others had been. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. . . . After that it became perfectly delicious. . .I found all the pain had gone from my arm.”

There is so much in just this little bit of my most favorite pages. First, it takes Aslan to dig deep enough that ALL the bad is stripped away. Eustace tried, but he didn’t go far enough; often we only see the surface of our own darkness. Then it hurt. Yes, stripping away our fears, our insecurities, our flaws and faults–it hurts. But then do you see what happened? Then it was delicious. And finally, Eustace is smaller than he was. He recognizes his inadequacies as just a mere man.

It is only with God that we can be so transformed. I love that CS Lewis recognizes the pain of that transformation, but immediately highlights the delicious freedom of it as well.

As I said last month. . .I am more of a Eustace (or an Edmund–who’s still coming in our lessons). I need God to strip away the things I hide behind, and though it is terrifying and often excruciating, I know that the final result will indeed be delicious.

Lessons from Narnia–Emeth


“Do I believe the Word of God is infallible and absolute? Yes, I do. Do I believe that my, or anyone else’s, understanding and interpretation is infallible and absolute? Absolutely not.”

My dad wrote those words several weeks ago. And not long afterwards I ran across The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe while channel surfing.

I first read The Chronicles of Narnia as a child. Chronicles I loved them. I loved Lucy. I wanted to be like her. She trusted Aslan so completely, even though she didn’t trust herself all the time. But I’m more an Edmund or a Eustace. But I think I’ll save those “lessons” for another post. What really happened when I watched the movie again the other night is I thought about the seventh book (funny that the first book made me think of the last one).

I think it’s because of my dad’s words. They were bouncing around in my head and that brought up CS Lewis’ character from The Last Battle, Emeth. Emeth always fascinated me as a child and as an adult when I re-read the series. Emeth has an encounter with Aslan when everyone goes “further up and further in.” While watching the proceedings before going through the stable doors Emeth wonders why his god has not struck down those that have mocked Tash. When he encounters Aslan, Emeth tells him honestly, “I have been seeking Tash all my days.” Aslan says back to him, “Beloved. . .unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek.” LastBattle

I’m not sure why my dad’s words and this particular section of the series have tied together in my mind unless it’s because I’ve been singularly challenged in the last few months by the differences in denominations. It seems when we say, wow, that’s different it often is interpreted as “that’s wrong.”

But is it?

John 14:6 says “Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” If my denomination and your denomination believe that simple fact, then we are the same. How the Holy Spirit leads us to interpret some of the other verses or leads us to worship, well, I can’t find anything that gives me the authority to say you’re wrong and I’m right.  Just different. Paul says in I Corinthians and Romans that we are not to cause each other to stumble and in I Thessalonians 5:11 he tells us to encourage one another and build each other up. If we are constantly saying that you’re wrong, then how is that encouraging you to be in the Word and allow the Holy Spirit to work in you?

I feel that CS Lewis is on to something when he has Aslan say to Emeth that when you truly seek you will find. It mirrors Christ’s words in Matthew 7:8 “For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.”  Who am I to judge your intentions, the purity of your seeking, and the heart of your worship?

And I think my dad is on to something as well. The Holy Spirit leads the interpretation of the Word.

We are all different. But perhaps we should start looking for the things that are the same.