Peace or Fear: Part One

“I don’t want to die.”

These are my forced, barely whispered words between gasps for air as Howell and I argued (again) about whether to call an ambulance and have (another) visit to the ER.

It sounds dramatic, but even now, weeks later I can still remember the fear that gripped me.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stand, couldn’t think straight.

Because the only thoughts running through my brain were 1) our hospitals are over maxed capacity; 2) if I go to the hospital, they’ll put me on a ventilator; and 3) if I go in, I might not come out.

Fear. Fear. Fear.

I was truly terrified.

Obviously, I didn’t die, though I did feel like death for a while.

And while I did have COVID pneumonia, my symptoms weren’t actually related to the virus.

And while all of this did lead to another surgery this year (after the almost baseball-sized tumor on my thyroid this summer), I did not have to stay in the hospital this time.

But I keep coming back to that moment, to those words, to that level of gut-wrenching fear.

What if I don’t come home? What if I never see Howell’s face again? Never hold my girl?

I can think of at least two other life-threatening moments I have experienced (this was not), and the stark contrast between my fear here and the peace I felt in those moments is astounding.

Peace or fear. I get to choose, right?

I have experienced and witnessed a lot of fear lately.

Fear falls into two camps, one related to our (potential) circumstances and one related to people. I’m hoping to dive into this second one in a Part 2 post, but for now—and for this specific situation—my fear was definitely about a potential circumstance. What might happen.

Years ago, Jackie Mize called FEAR False Evidence Against Reality.

Isn’t that so true? What we fear almost never comes to reality.

Kris Vallotton says it like this: “Fear is imagining the future without God.”

Let’s look at Jesus’s words to us in John 14:27. He says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled; neither let them be afraid.”

How can He tell us not to have troubled hearts, not to be afraid?

Because He has given us his peace.

We have the peace of Jesus.

We have the gift of the Holy Spirit’s presence at all times.

We have the promise of God’s goodness and faithfulness always.

What better news could He give us? His Word tells us that no weapon formed against us shall prosper (IS. 54:17).

But here’s the question… Here’s where we have to get real: Do we really believe His word? Do we believe what He says is true?

I have struggled with this question more in the last year than most recent years, specifically in the area of healing.

Because sometimes God doesn’t heal in the way we want or ask, no matter how firmly we believed or how repeatedly we prayed.

And because sometimes hard stuff still happens to us, even when we prayed it wouldn’t.

In these moments, it feels like God’s word isn’t true.

But we have to choose. We choose to say yes to His word, yes to His nature, yes to His character. We stand on His faithfulness in the past. We stand on His sovereignty and the good plans He has for us.

It’s okay to ask the hard questions. How are you being real with Him if you don’t?

Ask and listen—and then trust and believe.

And if you find your heart troubled by present or potential circumstances, don’t give in to the fear. Embrace the peace that is available.

 

p.s. If you need a pep talk for overcoming fear and embracing what God says about you, read Romans 8 every day this week. I promise you’ll be encouraged.

Got Plans?

Sometimes it's easier to think our plans are better than God's--that we know better, and if only He'd listen and do things our way, He would see how great our ideas are.

Ever been there? I know I have--and it's a battle to remind myself that He knows better. He sees our future.

Miles Sweeney preached at our church last fall, and at one point in his sermon, he said, "God enters our life from the future."

There's a Casting Crowns song that says it like this: "To you my future is a memory."

Over and over again, God's word is clear that He has good plans for us, that He determines our steps, that He leads us to the best place--green pastures and still waters.

And in my life, I can recall example after example where God had a better way. Like the time I really wanted to go to A&M and study journalism. And God wanted me to go to Angelo State instead--a much better plan for my life because it's where I met Howell.

Speaking of my hubs reminds me of  another one of my plans. It was my senior year at Angelo, and I was going to grad school the next fall, moving back to Lubbock. I had it all figured out--and my plan did not include dating. What a distraction! I told the Lord I didn't want to date until I finished my PhD.

Then enter Howell, stage left.

He was not part of my plan. His timing was all wrong.

How could we date if I was moving?

How we could get married if we lived three hours apart?

How could I be married if I wanted to focus on grad school?

I'm so glad when I graduated with my PhD in 2012, Howell and I had been married for four years. What a blessing he was to me during one of the harder seasons of my life.

Sometimes I took at my life, and I think: this is not what I planned--thirty-two, ten years of marriage, and an empty five-bedroom house.

It's easy to say, this is not how it was supposed to work out. It's not how we planned it.

I have to remember--to remind myself--God knows the best way, the best plan, the best timing, the best story.

He writes far better than I do, and He's got a great plot in mind.

I don't know it. I can't predict it. I can't see it right now.

But He does. He sees from the future to now, and already, He's called it good.

What about you, friends? Is there something in your life you're waiting for? Is there a dream that's delayed?

Are you facing circumstances that feel unfair? Or life's not what you would've wanted? Not how you would've written this chapter?

Take heart. Take courage.

God's plans are far superior to ours, and we really can trust Him. He is good.

My prayer for 2019 is "lead me." Lead me to green pastures. Lead me beside still waters. Lead me to the path everlasting.

When the Rain Comes...

We had several days of rain last week, often at random intervals of the day. I found myself carrying my umbrella at all times—even when it wasn’t raining. I’d carry it to work in the morning, and then again to my car for lunch, and then back to work after lunch, and back to my car at the end of the day.

Sometimes I’d get to work and need it for the quick walk inside—or I’d need it for the walk from the office to my car. 

But most of the time, I was carrying an umbrella without a drop of moisture coming down.

I felt a little silly about it, but I kept thinking I didn’t want to get caught in a downpour without the coverage. That’s happened to me on multiple occasions. Better to be prepared than not, right? 

Our spiritual life can be like that.

It’s not always raining. Sometimes there’s no warning for an impending downpour. But don’t you want to be ready when it comes?

Psalm 119 is one of my favorite chapters in the Bible because it’s shares the writer’s love for God’s word—knowing, obeying, hiding, seeking, declaring, and trusting in His word.

Some of my favorites:

11 I have stored up your word in my heart,
that I might not sin against you.

49 Remember your word to your servant,
in which you have made me hope.
50 This is my comfort in my affliction,
that your promise gives me life.

92 If your law had not been my delight,
I would have perished in my affliction.
93 I will never forget your precepts,
for by them you have given me life.

105 Your word is a lamp to my feet
and a light to my path.

165 Great peace have those who love your law;
nothing can make them stumble.

That last verse—nothing can make them stumble—is so powerful. It reminds me of Psalm 112 where it says the righteous “is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.” Or the Proverbs 31 woman who “laughs at the days to come” (v. 25).

How does that happen? I believe it happens when we know who God. Bill Johnson says that fear is imagining the future without God in it. When I start to feel fearful, that always stops me, and I remind myself, there’s no future circumstance that He doesn’t already know about. And there’s nothing I’ll face that He can’t comfort.

Having God’s word in your heart is like carrying around an umbrella, even when it’s not raining.

When the rain does come, you’re ready. You’ll have great peace and hope because His truth is in you.

What are some of your favorite verses? How do you practice hiding God’s word in your heart?

English Ivy Meets a Black Thumb

Last fall, I was given a beautiful English Ivy for boss’s day. I know it must’ve been expensive because it’s huge and gorgeous.

I wanted a plant for my office—despite the fact that I’m not a plant person.

And the plant my colleagues chose—I was told—is very, very hard to kill.

Can I repeat? I’m not a plant person.

Around our house, Howell takes care of all things green and colorful and organic and pretty.

But I listened to his instructions and determined that I would take care of this plant at work.

My goal is always to water it on Mondays.

Actually, at first I purposed to water it on Fridays. Fridays got pushed to Mondays (can you see where this is going?), and now I usually look up at some point mid-week and think, “Oh dang! I haven’t watered my plant yet.”

She is quite resilient, though, this plant of mine. And God has used her to speak to my heart on a number of occasions.

In fact, God’s been speaking to me—the non-plant person—through all things green and organic a lot lately. (You might recall my encounters in the flower beds last summer and my faith declaration  because of the cotton harvest last fall.)

We have a solid red oak in our front yard. It’s my absolute favorite tree.

The year we moved in, God gave us a word that we were like that red oak—that our roots were deep, and our branches would be resilient, despite the circumstances, despite the heavy rains, harsh winds, severe freezes. Whatever the conditions, God told me we would be able to stand under the adversary.

Of course, a massive red oak would be resilient. It looks resilient. But when I look at this little Ivy, I think, even you, and each delicate little leaf, are resilient.

She might look weak when I’ve neglected her, and some leaves might yellow or droop a little, but when I give her a drink, she snaps back rather quickly.

My Heavenly Dad is a good Gardener. Can you imagine how big and how green his thumb must be?

He picks from me the dead leaves, to make room for new growth. He never neglects to give me water.

He’s forever my source and strength.

And because of His tender care over my soil, I can face anything.

Jeremiah 17:7-8 says, "Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit." 

Friends, do you feel thirsty today? Do you need to let the Master Gardener care for your heart soil?

Do you need Him to breathe life and strength into your roots and limbs and leaves again? 

If my black thumb can care for a super resilient ivy, then only imagine how much more skillfully he can care for the most delicate of us. 

When Anxious Thoughts Steal My Peace...

I have struggled to get a post out this week mostly because I have struggled with being vulnerable. It’s called “Transparent Thursday,” right? 

Earlier this week, I felt very anxious about some future events. I am a planner, y’all, and so I suppose uncertainty will always be my nemesis until I learn to walk in peace and trust the Lord. 

This was my conversation on Tuesday morning, as I’m trying to get ready for work—and the Lord keeps interrupting me. (He does that sometimes.) 

Lord: Why are you doing this with your thoughts?

Me: What? I feel fine. I’m fine.

Lord: What are you feeling? Why do you think you do this?

[Side note: Remember when I said I used to be a professional avoider, but the Lord helped me learn how to express all these stuffed down feels?]

Me: I don’t know. I don’t know what you mean. I feel fine. Everything is cool with us.

Lord: Your heart is troubled. Can you just pause for a second?

**I sit on the edge of the chair. (You know, not totally committing.)**

**60 seconds of silence.**

Me: I guess I feel anxious because I don’t know—and uncertainty makes me anxious.

**More silence.**

Me: And so I guess, in my mind, I go to the worse-case scenario to make myself feel better.

Lord: And does it make you feel better?

**I sink into the chair.**

Me: No… I just feel more anxious.

Lord: I hold your future, sweet child—and I promise it’s good because I’m good and because I’ll be with you always.

I heard a sermon once (okay, fine, I don't really listen to sermons online, but I heard from a friend about a sermon once :)) that fearing the future means I’m imagining a future without the Lord in it. 

When I remember that He is with me always, I remember I have nothing to fear. 

YouVersion Bible App

I can’t control my uncertainty. I can’t predict the future. I have no idea how it will all shake out.

But I can control myself. He’s given me the Holy Spirit to help me do just that. 

And through Him, I can live in peace every day. 

Isn’t that a better way to live, my friends? 

Click to Tweet: The trouble with anxious thoughts that steal our peace and the Holy Spirit antidote.

That Moment of Choice

Last Sunday, our church began a series on Ruth, so this week, I’ve been reading through Ruth 1 and 2 closely. 

I’ve never noticed how broken and bitter Naomi is until today. As a high schooler, I read Ruth as a beautiful love story, but in my naiveté and innocence, I didn’t comprehend or identify with the grief these women had faced. 

To lose their husbands, and for Naomi, to lose her sons too.

To have no means for income

To travel alone as women

For Ruth, to work in dangerous fields where young, beautiful women were often assaulted.

They had a right to feel bitter, to feel scared, to feel, especially, that the Lord had not dealt kindly with them. 

But what contrast between the two women. 

Ruth, as a Moabite, converts to Judaism—taking on the covenant of Naomi’s God. And in doing so, she believes for a better future. 

She is willing to work hard—not with bitterness or self-pity.

She is joyful and humble—not entitled.

She doesn’t demand; she doesn’t expect. 

And the Lord moves on her behalf to provide: His great providence. 

It’s sadly our culture and our generation to demand, expect, and feel entitled.

But God is moved by hearts that are willing to trust, to risk, to do the hard work, not knowing whether it will pay off. 

Ruth could have adopted Naomi’s attitude about God—that He didn’t care, that He wasn’t doing anything on their behalf, that His hand was against them. 

And given the grief she walked through and the uncertainty she faced, no one would blame her. 

It’s in our uncertainty that we sometimes feel most forgotten. 

In the midst of grief, providence seems the least likely—God’s goodness seems the furthest away.

Last Saturday, our three-year-old Wiemaraner discovered some poison in the shed. Once we realized what had happened, we immediately jumped into action. The emergency vet hospital is one hour away, so they told us how to induce vomiting immediately. 

 

Rizzoli threw up twice in the yard—bright chunks of green poison—and three more times in the back seat of Howell’s truck as we rushed to the vet hospital. We were laying hands on her, absolutely believing and praying that God would heal her.

Unless you’re a dog person, you may not fully understand how we felt, especially since our dogs are like children to us. 

So we get to the vet hospital, and we bring the box of what she got into, and the vet—who must have left his compassion hat at home—plainly tells us there’s not much they can do for that type of poison; there’s no real antidote. He said they would monitor her and give her fluids, but basically, either she’ll live, or she’ll die. 

I was choking on my tears. 

Talk about uncertainty. 

I felt like my legs weighed a thousand pounds as I walked to the truck—without our dog-baby.

Once I was in the cab, I started to weep. The Lord let me cry, let me feel, let me walk down all the worse-case scenarios and juggle my hope with the bad news. 

But when we pulled into the garage, I heard Him whisper so gently, Trust me. I’ve got you; I’ve got this—just trust me.

It’s always a choice, isn’t it? 

We picked up Rizzoli the next day, and although it took another day before her system was fully normal, she most certainly lived. 

But it’s in that moment—where the uncertainty lives, where the doc says she’ll live or she’ll die—that’s the moment of choice. 

And to choose faith is to be brave, to dare greatly, as Brene Brown would say. 

Ruth was a courageous woman. She dared to believe contrary to her circumstances and feelings, and in that moment: 

She dares to hope.

She dares to be brave.

She dares to be seen. 

What about you, dear friend? Do you feel like Naomi—hurt and bitter, as if the Lord has turned His hand against you? 

Can you trust Him with your heart today—to believe that He has a good purpose for you, and by His providence, He will make a way? 

Click to Share This Post: "Ruth made the hard choices IN THE MOMENT. Let's dare to be courageous, too, my friends."