A throwaway phrase, right?

But it’s not.

The Passover Seder hearkens back to the day when God delivered the Israelites from Egypt’s tyrannical rule. They ate their meal together in haste. No time to even leaven the bread. They ate standing up, in a hurry.

But here, they reclined. Why? The reclining symbolized a free people, a people no longer enslaved, no longer fleeing, no longer in angst.

Free people rest.

The simplicity of that statement woos me.

The problem? I don’t act like a free person. I act enslaved to my schedule, my to-do list, my agenda. And if I go a little deeper, I realize that my frenetic pace has everything to do with my perception of worth. I do things so I will feel worthy of occupying space on this earth. So if I relax, I don’t see my value.

God wants us (me!) to rest. He has set us free from sin, from a lifestyle bent on self, from feeling like we have to do things to prove our worth.

In light of that, I believe every Jesus follower should choose rest for these three reasons.

1. Studies show that people who dare to retreat and take strategic breaks are far more productive than those who push-push-push. I wrote a post about that here. I’ve learned to take a break in between bursts of work, using the Pomodoro Method. And I’ve seen the value of taking time away from the computer screen.
2. Our rest is proof of our freedom. If we’re not resting, we’re showing others we’re not really free. Is that the message we want to send to the world? Meet Jesus, then burn out? Be set free only to be enslaved to your schedule?
3. God commands it.It’s on God’s Top Ten list. Resting is our faith in action. Every night we go to bed in faith, believing that God commands the day and night, that He can effectively run the universe without Him. Why is it that we forget that He can run it fine even while we’re awake? Set aside a weekly time to rejuvenate…to worship God, to re-engage with your family, and to rediscover perspective.

You are free. Now, rest.

Q4u: What obstacles do you face when you need/want to take a break? What advice can you give to someone who is facing burnout? What are your favorite restful activities?

I’ve been working behind the scenes for the past several months in a secret author lab. Well, not really, but I have kept a secret since December. Which is when my friends Thomas Umstattd and Jeff Gerke invited me to be a part of a particular society. It’s called The Bestseller Society, and I’m really excited about it.

Why did we create this site? Because we get a lot of folks asking how to write better, get published, and get noticed. The Bestseller Society helps you with all those things, for one monthly price. For less than you’d spend on a yearly writers conference, you can get coaching and instruction all year round. It’s pretty fun. Check out our main page. The Society is made up of three academies:  the Marketing Academy led by Thomas, The fiction Academy led by Jeff, and the Nonfiction Academy led by me. Each is $37 a month, but you can become a Mastermind by joining all three for $55.

Here’s a bit about us:

Thomas Umstattd runs the Marketing Academy. He’s uniquely qualified because:

1. Thomas is still in his twenties (oh the energy!), Thomas has pioneered several successful companies.
2. Thomas has a passion not only for social media and web presence, but he understands the needs of authors. Check out his site, Author Media.
3. He’s a real-time thinker and strategist, constantly keeping up with the next new thing. He knows how to sift through what is fluff and what marketing efforts bring true success to authors.

Jeff Gerke runs the Fiction Academy. He’s uniquely qualified because:

1. Jeff has published several books, including novels and books for Writer’s Digest on how to write novels. He also is a nationally known editor for several publishing houses.
2. He’s a prolific speaker, sharing his seminars and proven techniques for both character and plot development around the country.
3. Jeff inaugurated Marcher Lord Press, a publishing house for speculative fiction. As its founder, publisher and chief editor, he knows how to shepherd writers through the publication process.

Mary DeMuth (aka “me”) runs the Nonfiction Academy. I’m uniquely qualified because:

1. I’ve traditionally published twelve books, and have also learned the art and craft of e-publishing and Print on Demand.
2. I understand the importance of platform. I’ve learned the power of marketing, tribe creation, and social media engagement. Follow me on twitter!
3. I am passionate about helping other writers. I wrote a book about it. And I’ve mentored writers for years on my successful and well-visited writing website. I also have a teacher’s heart, mentoring and teaching writers all over the world.

Cool side note: If you join the Non-Fiction Academy you get my nonfiction proposal tutorial (100+ pages, $25 value) free with sign up. (And you can cancel at any time). 

You want to publish a book. We want to help you get there.

Join the Bestseller Society and watch your publishing dreams come true. Free ways to connect:

• Follow the Bestseller Society on Twitter
• Like the Bestseller Society on Facebook

There are times I feel terribly small. Circumstances that harken me back to junior high, clinging to the cafeteria wall, waiting to be asked to dance (in vain.) Rejection does that to me. Sometimes when I’m most vulnerable, an off-handed comment, never meant to hurt me, sends me into a tailspin. Such was Thursday, May 3rd for me.

I came off a fantastic week at the Scorre conference, but one small incident needled, and then, skewered, me. The circumstances don’t matter much. I won’t go into details, because frankly I bet the people involved had no earthly idea their words hurt.

I retreated into myself. The thought that reverberated: Why is it that I always have to do things the hard way? Why is it never easy?

If you ever want to feel insignificant, become a writer. Or a speaker. Or anyone “out there.” Because the process of “becoming” is a treacherous one, full of heartache and rejection. (And to be fair, there are times of great anticipation and elation. But last Thursday May 3rd wasn’t one of those days.)

So I nursed my feelings of smallness. Eventually I spilled them on a new friend. She listened, empathized, and prayed for me while she drove (thankfully with her eyes open.)

If that weren’t enough (because her prayers were powerful and my tears cathartic), my friend Ann tweeted me this:

Mary, friend… Love you *deep*, sister. My heart echoes yours, beautiful Mary… bit.ly/Ip6ygh on May 03, 11:10 AM

Go ahead and click on the link in the tweet and  you’ll see why this touched me, showed me God saw, and encouraged me to gain perspective. Some of her words were these:

There’s always part of you that wonders if anything you do matters enough.

And there’s always someone who makes sure you know how much smarter and wiser, bigger and better, known and greater they are.

There’s always someone who snatches the horn to sing too loud of their own tens of thousands.

The whole post made me cry.

But not in the sobbing, heaving way. In the releasing way. Someone understood. And God prompted that someone to encourage me in the exact moment I needed it. Later she emailed me this quote from Saint Bernard (the man, not the dog):

“It is not hard to be  humble in a hidden life, but to remain so in the midst of honors is a truly rare and beautiful virtue.”

So I remember. Small is something everyone feels. Famous folks. Infamous ones. We’re all fragile, needy. Even when we feel tiny and overlooked, He notices. And if we get to that place of fame, it’s only a place to shout His fame anyway.

Jesus, it’s ALL about you. I love You. I need You. Thanks for coming alongside me when I felt so vulnerable and small and discouraged. Thanks for sending Your body to encourage me. I needed it. Thanks for dusting me off after so many tears. Thanks for reminding me that being “seen” isn’t the most important thing. It’s making You seen that matters. Amen.

What about you? When have you felt small? How did God lift you from that place?

It is devastating to learn that someone you trust has taken advantage of that trust and harmed your children. One of the hardest issues for me was coming to grips with the fact that such traumatic abuse was part of God’s plan for our family from before the foundation of the world, and that it was part of His perfect plan for GOOD in our lives.

After wrestling through tough issues about God’s sovereignty, goodness, and love, that has now become most comforting. I am so thankful for a church family and dear friends who made a “safe place” for me to wrestle through those things, and who loved and prayed us through those days (and in the case of our pastor, preached a lot of “deep waters” sermons!). We are commanded in Scripture to bear one another’s burdens…and we have experienced that in so many ways.

We need to provide that “safe place”. We need to be those loving, praying, burden-bearing people helping others deal with similar trauma, pain, and questions. We also need to realize that we have no idea what others may be experiencing. For most of our most difficult days, almost no one knew what our family was going through. We went to church, put on our “everything’s fine” happy faces (some times more successfully than others), and prayed that we wouldn’t fall apart before we got home. It’s easy to cause unintended pain in such situations.

We need to realize that there is much hidden pain in our churches, and realizing that, we need to extend grace whenever possible. Rather than assuming that the child who balks at participating in an activity is being anti-social and should be pushed to conform, we need to realize that there may be very legitimate reasons for their reluctance. Rather than feel slighted when someone passes us in the hall without speaking, we need to understand that they may be carrying a heavy, invisible weight that has rendered them completely oblivious. We need to react to possible trauma-related behavior issues in ways that cause children to feel safe and loved.

God has so been working in me in this area of extending grace . As I’ve typed this post, He’s convicted me of areas in which I need to extend grace, even as I encourage others to do so. {I love it when my blog posts step on my own toes while I’m still in the process of typing them…ouch!}

Abuse can touch any family. If any family should have been immune, ours should. Billy and I met through our careers in Child Protective Services. We were, and are, super-protective. We have learned that while we need to do everything in our power to protect our children, we cannot protect them from everything. My heart is heavy for others, known and unknown, dealing with long-term issues of abuse. I pray that the church will be the hands and feet of Jesus to love and minister to them.

Here’s Jennifer:

“When a church fails to grasp the dynamics of child abuse, it is ill-equipped to “welcome these little children in the name of Christ” ~ G.R.A.C.E. (Godly Response to Abuse in the Christian Environment)

This recent Facebook status touched on a deep burden of my heart. I spent my career days in child protective services, and members of my own family have experienced abuse by someone we trusted. I’m not terribly fond of “awareness” campaigns (because most do little to actually alleviate the problems), but I am committed to making people aware of anything that can truly make a difference for those devastated by abuse.

Ministry to children and families touched by abuse is a huge area of need in our churches. There are many more families affected than we sometimes realize, including foster or adoptive families of previously abused children, adult survivors of abuse, and families in which one or more children have been victimized.

There are many ways the church can help. One of the most basic is by simply understanding that these children and families have experienced great trauma and are dealing with tremendous long-term pain and scars. They need understanding, support, and love.

We need to understand these things:
• 1. Children affected by abuse may not always respond in ways we consider “normal”.
• 2. Many things may trigger trauma responses…certain words, music, smells, etc.
• 3. Children who have experienced trauma may not be comfortable participating in group activities; we need to be sensitive to this and allow them freedom to observe from the sidelines.
• 4. Children who have suffered abuse may be delayed academically, emotionally, socially, and/or physically; we need to respect their needs in those areas.
• 5. Parents and families of those who have experienced abuse are under an extreme burden; we need to look for ways to lighten it. That may involve a smile or hug, an “I’m praying for you”, or simply not expecting them to act “normal”. It could also mean taking a meal, giving them a break from their usual church responsibilities, or attending court hearings.

We don’t have to go far to do missions. There is a huge mission/ministry field ripe for harvest that doesn’t require traveling a mile or spending a dime. There are many right around us…even sitting beside us in church…who are hurting and who need us to reach out.

Hurting children and families need to know that there is hope: there is healing and comfort in the Father who holds us close to His heart, as a Shepherd cradles a baby lamb. We must share the Gospel with the unsaved, and we must minister to the injured members of the Body of Christ. We must allow God’s love to flow through us to them; we must be the hands and feet of Jesus to them. Church must be a haven for those affected by abuse…a place where they can feel the safety necessary to heal and grow.

As I list my “don’ts,” I want you to take out a piece of scrap paper, or a journal, and write a list too. Would you be so kind to share some in the comments section of this post? And pass this post on to others who may need to make their own “I don’t” lists. I’d love to spark a revolution of No.

(Aside: In writing this, I’m not saying I can’t be prompted or interrupted by the Holy Spirit to do things. Sometimes we are called to clean toilets, to help others through problems that take much of our time, to be responsive. God’s leading trumps any list we make.)

Mary’s “I don’t” list:

1. I haven’t been a room mom for my kids.
2. I don’t do the kind of community where strangers live with us. (I used to think that was so cool, but then we lived in France and experienced that. I’m simply not the kind of person that can do that.)
3. I don’t do tax accounting. (I could, but it’s time consuming, and I prefer someone else to bear the weight…paying of course).
4. I don’t answer every email. (I used to. I can’t now. I have some replies I tailor to those who ask similar questions about how to get published.)
5. I don’t cut my own hair (thank goodness). I do cut (and sometimes color) everyone’s hair in the family, which saves enough money for me to afford my own cut. I’ve cut some pretty awkward bangs on myself.
6. I don’t speak for everyone who asks. I’ve come to a place where, if I’m going to leave my family for a period of a few days, there has to be compensation. I love them too much to leave, so if I do leave, I need to have it be worth my while.
7. I don’t forward “please forward this” emails.
8. I don’t shower. (Just checking if you’re reading this. Of course I do.)
9. I don’t do harsh exercises that bear weight on my forearms. Because of so much typing, my right arm hurts, and doing push ups just makes things worse. Byproduct: I have lame biceps.
10. I don’t eradicate every weed in my garden. I used to. But in the Texas heat, I almost feel like I should congratulate the weeds that thrive, plus I don’t want heat stroke.
11. I don’t do triathlons from May to September for the same reason. One trip to the ambulance after my last one convinced me that Mary + swim-bike-running + 105 heat = Emergency services.
12. I don’t clip coupons. (Boy did I used to. I also ran from store to store doing loss leaders sales. I wish I had time to do this, but I don’t. So I swallow my thrifty pride and made do with the closest store to my house.)
13. I don’t work on Sundays. Of course, life careens into that sacred space, particularly on travel days. But on the whole, I try to rest. I’m a mess if I don’t.
14. I don’t nag. (ha ha ha. This is aspirational, not operational. Again, checking to see if you’re reading this.)
15. I typically don’t do layovers. Since I live in the DFW (Texas) area, I typically never have to have a layover. I truly don’t like changing planes.
16. I don’t let my closet or drawers fill up. Instead, I donate.
17. I don’t eat fast food or junk food. It makes me sick, and I can feel my tummy reject it. Honestly, I just don’t like it.
18. I don’t mop my floors. (In my defense, I do have cleaning ladies come twice a month to help with this. Otherwise, we’d all stick to the tile floor.)
19. I don’t respond to guilt. I used to. All the time. This is an area of growth for me.

How about you? What’s on your “I don’t list?” I can’t wait to hear from you!

But many of us don’t like being in the spotlight like that. We don’t much like the brightness. And the thought of Jesus elongating us makes us nervous. We don’t want to shine like that. We’re afraid.

But every person can shine by overcoming 3 excuses.

Excuse one. I’m afraid shining means selfishness.

Remember this: God didn’t punish Moses for leading well. He gave Moses the gift of leadership, then prodded him out into the light. He did the miracles, Moses simply watched God work. If he never stepped out, he wouldn’t have seen the miracles, the power, the glory. It’s not selfish to find joy in exercising your gifts, particularly when you know that they came from Him in the first place.

Excuse two. I don’t have anything to offer.

God created every single person on this earth to shine. To be a vessel for His amazing glory. You are the only you on this earth. You have your own unique sets of gifts, friends, family, and circle of influence. Of course you have something to offer. Who you are becomes your offering. He doesn’t ask you to be light, in this instance. He doesn’t ask you to try to make more of yourself than you are. He simply beckons you to be brave enough to step into the light so HE can elongate you. (And He gets the glory when that happens.)

Excuse three. God will make me do weird things.

Actually, He will. He’ll ask you to step out of your comfortable world to pray for orphans, make dinners for shut ins, and stop your agenda to serve another’s. Because God loves the whole wide world, He will ask you to follow His upside-down kingdom. Yep, that means weird things. But in doing weird things, you’ll experience His shining and your elongation in ways you never thought possible. You will live a better story.

Dare to risk today. Shine. What holds you back today from shining like that?

After our recording session, Bob pulled me aside and said something like, “Mary, you have a rare gift for speaking the truth, for endearing others to yourself.” He said more, but those first words pulled me closer to Jesus. Having someone in the field recognize a gifting, using the word “rare,” deeply encouraged me. I tucked his words away in a back pocket of my heart.

Every once in awhile I pull them out, and wonder at all that God has done.

Last week, I had the privilege of attending the SCORRE conference. Bob’s words came back to me as I heard constructive (and important) feedback about my speaking. When I felt small, God flooded his words back to me. And I felt encouraged. I felt like I’d been on a journey where God gave me sweet crumbs along the way–Bob’s words, others’ words, the words of my coach, Curtis Fletcher, at the conference.

I don’t write this to toot my speaking horn. Not at all. We all have God-breathed talents. Playing piano, running fast, and yodeling are NOT my talents. They might be yours. My point is this: Bob’s words seeped into my soul, and they emerged at the perfect time.

So let’s reverse this.

Let’s not run around like crazy people trying to be noticed by Bob Lepine. Instead, let’s BE Bob Lepine. Let’s move outside of our own worlds, our own insecurity, our own needs and actively find people to encourage.

This means listening and watching and asking God for opportunities to bless others. It means seeing my friend Phyllis and sending her an email when I feel God’s great love for her overflow to me. She is beautiful and sacrificial and she has many many gifts. It was a blessing to point those out to her.

So look around today. Find a person who exhibits something special. Then be Bob Lepine to him or her.

I triple dog dare you.

Who has been a Bob Lepine to you? How have you been a Bob Lepine?

Dear Reader,

As I wrote on Monday, I love to pray for people, particularly strangers. Here’s my Friday gift for you. May these prayers become yours. May they hit both the heart of God and your heart. And if you feel a friend needs one of these prayers, feel free to forward this to them.

With affection and prayer,
Mary

A prayer for those grieving:

Jesus, we seem to face far too much loss these days. In times like those, we choose to rest our heads on your sacred shoulders. Weep alongside. Lift our heads. Rejuvenate our vision. Bring us back to a place of play. Of wonder. This world is dark, but we recognize right now, in this moment, that You are glorious light. Please, please shine down on us so we can see You at work. Replace our mourning with dancing. Hold our hands, our hearts, our dreams. Amen.

A prayer for those overwhelmed:

Jesus, we want to have a less hectic life. We’re tired. So tired. Life feels like an out of control carnival ride, dipping, careening, swaying. We want to get off and rest! Help us this week to find ways to do just that. Bring respite and quiet where there’s chaos and hollering. May You become our haven, our settled place. Forgive us for preferring hurry to You. Forgive us for giving into worry instead of choosing to give You every single stress. We need time, Jesus. Time to reflect, rest, and rejuvenate. And we trust You to provide it. Amen.

A prayer for those who are broken:

Jesus, please be with my friend reading this prayer. You know every wound, every joy, every fear, every dream. Heal old wounds. Heal new wounds. Rejoice alongside. Alleviate every haunting fear. Fulfill God-sized dreams in Your timing (and help us be patient in the waiting). Help us all to see the power of Your resurrection this month. Give us eyes to see where new life springs in our hearts. Rejuvenate when we’re weak. We need You Jesus. Amen.

Thankfully, I stumbled upon an amazing and helpful book entitled The Power of Full Engagement by Loehr and Schwartz. Here it is:

This book reinforces the idea of a Biblical Sabbath. Resting fully once a week does wonders for our bodies, minds and hearts.

The authors speak of managing energy rather than time and tout the benefits of taking strategic breaks all day long on the days you do work. They found that crazy-busy business executives were actually more productive if they took breaks. But when they plowed through, eliminated their margin, and flirted with burnout, their productivity plummeted and their quality of life diminished significantly.

So I took what they had to say to heart. (I didn’t just blindly trust them. They have scads of research to back up their claims.) I started taking breaks during the day using the Pomodoro Method. In fact, as I blog this, the timer is ticking. Not only does using the method up my productivity (there’s something about hearing that tick-tick-tick that motivates me), but it reminds (forces!) me to stop every 25 minutes and walk around.

When I do this, I am more productive, more energized. When I plow through a day from morning to night without a break, my ability to complete tasks lag. God has given us only so much energy (so we can learn to rely on Him!), so in a sense resting is an acknowledgement of our own limitations. But it’s also a means of great gain–of getting more done in less time.

What about you? How have you learned to take strategic breaks? What have you learned when you don’t? Any hints and suggestions for the rest of us? Any other book recommendations?

Boy howdy, have I. And it lead to fear-mongering in my heart and sin. Once, during a particularly vexing time when I faced an enemy of sorts, I panicked, retaliated in kind, and made a mess of things. My panic gave my “enemy” more fuel to hate me. Not a fun encounter, to be sure.

So I get panic.

I do panic.

I’ve languished in the land of panic.

But I don’t want to give into panic as I have in the past. Why? Read on.

Thankfully, God offers me a principle, a secret, to overcome panic: resting in God’s deliverance. And for that, I look to Gideon from Old Testament fame–the reluctant commander who would eventually deliver Israel from its enemies.

Gideon isn’t much of a poster child for a less panicked life. He didn’t recognize the Angel of the Lord right away, called him “sir.” And he asked for signs right and left to make sure it was God who spoke to him. Prone to panic, he was.

But he learned a secret.

God acts on our behalf when circumstances seems impossible. 

Stop and re-read that sentence, let it sink into your bones.

With only 300 men, Gideon routed thousands and thousands of enemies because God fought for them. “When the 300 Israelites blew their rams’ horns, the Lord caused the warriors in the camp to fight against each other with their swords” (Judges 7:22, NLT).

The result of all this? Peace–not panic.

“Throughout the rest of Gideon’s lifetime–about forty years–there was peace in Israel” (Judges 8:28, NLT).

We can have peace. We don’t need to give into panic. To do so is to discover, then live the secret that God acts broadly on our behalf, particularly when the impossible looms ahead.

What about you? When have you given into panic? When have you learned that God acts on  your behalf, and how as that brought peace? I look forward to your stories.

This is Amber Haines (along with hubby Seth). She’s super smart and fun (even though we’ve never met in person, I already like her.) She embarked on a rather creative and cool endeavor in writing/editing a book for moms, entitled Mother Letters. Click the cute graphic below to find out more.

I figured it would be best to let Amber tell you her journey. I pray it’s an encouragement to you to think about what God is doing in your life, then possibly create an amazing book from the experience. Here’s my fun interview:

Tell me the journey it’s taken to write/compile this book.

I studied to receive my MFA in poetry, but decided to drop out to have these babies. I gave up writing for a while, started a blog to show my far-away mother photographs of my babies, and then one day, I found a blog by a woman with a ton of kids, and she wrote powerful creative non-fiction.

It set me free to share my heart. In my sidebar, I linked to my favorite bloggers. In an effort to create a gift gift for me, he asked those bloggers to write me a letter of encouragement. Those bloggers started spreading the word, and for Christmas that year, I received nearly 600 letters that all began with “Dear Mother.”

My kids are now teens, and I have to be honest. I’ve FORGOTTEN what it’s like to parent younger kids. That I survived is a badge I wear proudly, and I’m utterly enjoying the teen years. Give me and my readers a picture of what it’s like to parent younglings.

Parenting younglings sometimes feels like one of the dreams where you’re trying to run, but your legs just won’t work.  I can load the dishwasher, nurse a baby, order pizza, and teach reading all at the same time, but I can’t seem to catch who it is ripping the cereal bag clear down the side, and I’m always saying, “I can’t remember what it was I came in here for.”

What parenting books blessed you in the past few years?

I love the poet Beth Ann Fennelly who wrote Tender Hooks. Most often, I’m not looking for some how-to’s. I just want encouragement and understanding, and Fennelly gives me that even if I’m just reading her in Southern Living.

What is the most important thing you’d like your kids to know-know-know by the time they go to college?

God loved you first, before you ever even considered Him, before you messed up, or even thought of messing up. The world isn’t on your shoulders, so do the next thing God’s telling you to do, and release the rest, and know that you are loved.

What is your favorite ice cream flavor?

I’m a vanilla girl! Make it homemade with some hot fudge and a sprinkling of walnuts.

…

Here’s a little bit more about the process:

Mary here: If you’re interested in the very amazing book, click the link below (full disclosure: this is an affiliate link). Right now the price is $6.99.

Note: Her photos are from mgb photo: http://www.malloryberry.com/

I like to pray for folks. You may have noticed that. Just read these series of prayer posts to read my prayers, see others and their requests, and find bits and pieces of redemption rooted there.

One story that stays fresh in my mind is the time I prayed for a pizza delivery man.

The date? March 11, 2003. I nearly finished my first novel, The Quarryman’s Wife, so I was in the “zone,” a bit oblivious to everything and everyone around me. That night a man came to the door with a pizza that we ordered (because I had been writing most of the day and didn’t get dinner cooked.) He looked entirely disheveled and upset. As I looked into his eyes, I felt God ask me to pray for him. I battled briefly with God’s unction, but then decided it was always better to obey the Holy Spirit’s prompting than to ignore it. “Are you okay?” I asked him.

He spoke in broken English, said he’d had a bad day as tears wet his eyes. I asked if I could pray for him, and he agreed. I laid my hand on his shoulder and prayed for the man. I took the pizza. He asked my name.

“Mary,” I said.

He smiled. “That’s the perfect name,” he said, then left.

We ate our pizza, then I typed the last chapter and wrote, “The End.”

That night in the comfort of bed and nearing sleep, the Lord said to me so clearly, “The most significant thing you did today was pray for the pizza man.” I’d written and finished my first novel, but God valued my obedience to pray far more. That lesson still clings to me.

Praying for the pizza man enlarged my heart. It reminded me that people walk this earth broken and needy, and often all they need is a small reminder that God sees them, He’s mindful of their pain. Our prayers lessen others’ pain, and as we pray, we lessen ours too. Our hearts grow when we move beyond our self-centered lives and intersect the needs of others.

What about you? What cool “pizza man” stories do you have? I’d love to hear them. Or, answer this: how does this post convict you? Encourage you?

The past few weeks, I’ve been reading through the perils and joys of Israel, all their wandering, all God’s acts, how they conquered a land, etc. And I realized that when God recounted their victories (or they did), all pointed to Him as the One at work.

Hmm.

And when I look back at my career, I see this dynamic in action. Me working like a crazy woman, being obedient to agents and publishers, longing to be the “good” author who does everything asked of her. I’ve anticipated a breakout book far too many times to count, only to have success be mild, unremarkable.

Yet God hasn’t revoked the call on my life to write.

So I write.

And I work.

And I promote.

Which is good on one hand. It means that I am stewarding the gifts God has entrusted to me. But it becomes sin for me (for you) when the focus becomes making things happen in our own strength.

The Christian life is a great letting go. Of loosing our control and letting God be God. Slow down and remember. Look back on your life when God did great things. What did you do? How did you make those things materialize? You didn’t.

It’s time to slow down. To recount.  To give up. To listen.

“Listen to the village musicians gathered at the watering holes. They recount the righteous victories of the Lord.” Judges 5:11a Oh how we need to listen to those victories. To remember them. To wallow in them (in just the right way).

In light of that, here are some of my recent God moments, where He did the work, and I sat back in awe:

• A conversation that changed the course of someone’s life.
• A nudge from the Holy Spirit that materialized into a new quest for a friend.
• An opening up of a heart, once cold, now warming.
• Favor from leaders who have agreed to read my next book for endorsement.
• An opportunity to travel overseas this summer to do significant, God-breathed work.

None of this I made happen.

Which is why God is cool, and I need to remember how important it is to let go of control, and let God do His thing.

What about you? When have you let go of control? When has God done something cool? What lessons have you learned about control and God’s initiation?

“Don’t you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can’t you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin?” (NLT).

God’s kindness woos us toward repentance. Not His wrath, judgment or power. His kindness. Which then begs the question: why is it that we’re kinder to strangers than our own family? Why do we think that hollering, belittling and shaming our kids will bring about repentance?

I’m not advocating being softies and letting our kids run wild. Not at all. Boundaries and limits are important. But it’s the way we treat our kids that we need to take a breather and re-think the way we approach them.

Our kindness will bring about heart change. How we parent matters.

We’ve seen it in our home, even recently. One of my kids was having a hard time in school, which turned out not to be an issue of brain power, but of simply not trying. I could’ve berated and said to try harder. (And I wanted to). But instead I sensed God say to slow down, ask questions, listen, and have a quiet conversation. The end result is that my child felt heard. We uncovered the “why” of the behavior, and ended up praying for each other.

We’re not perfect parents. We make lots of mistakes. But we have learned the importance of creating a haven in our home. If you’d like some free tips on doing that, I have a download about haven-making here.

What about you? Have you seen the power of kindness in your own life? In your kids? What happened?

But I want to. I need to.

Because I need to live this way right now. In the moment. And so do you.

How can you be genuinely happy right now? What does it take to turn that frown upside down? Three ways (and when I’m done with this post, I’ll go ahead and practice them.)

1. Seek out someone to pray for. When we’re in a funk, we tend to forget that others in the world struggle and have pain. Ask today that God would show you one person to intercede for. Then pray. In person if possible, but if not, try praying via text, Facebook, tweet, email. Or call and pray over the phone. Focusing on someone else’s need, connecting with God, and finding space to do that will give you surprising happiness. An excellent, inspiring book about this is Praying for Strangers by River Jordan.
2. Go outside. When I’m getting particularly self absorbed, tired, or cranky, a walk or run outside changes everything. In fact, I’m pretty sure that today I’m in the doldrums because I didn’t take my morning run. (Oh to be more disciplined! Oh to be like Mike Hyatt! Oh to remember the joys of fresh air and activity!)
3. Decide right now that God is enough. No, that do-hickey won’t complete you. That job you think you must have to be happy? It won’t ultimately fill you up. A molten chocolate cake? Not as satisfying as you may think (though it comes close!). The perfect marriage? Doesn’t exist. The body you had at 18? Even if you did look like that (which would be weird, probably), how would that satiate you? Remember, anything that you use to fill yourself up other than God will not work. It won’t. Settle that. God is enough. Even if everything were taken from you, He’d still be everything you need. (I wrote a book about that!)

Here’s a worship song that reflects #3. Spend the short time it takes to let the words seep into you. And find true, lasting happiness in the God who loves the whole world, made the whole world, and fills your whole heart.

…

Marry a whore.

Keep her as your wife.

She will betray you continuously, but you must love her and never leave her.

You will be rejected continuously.

You will be seen as a fool.

Your life will be painful.

Your reputation challenged.

You will need to trust God.

You will need to depend on God.

You will always need to forgive, always show unconditional love, and always remain faithful in spite of your feelings of betrayal.

Who would ask such a thing? God did—of the prophet Hosea. Why? He likes using the dramatic to drive home a point. God uses real-life people like you and me to demonstrate the commonality of our struggle. But the purpose of this story illustrates something profoundly deeper. God is telling us the story of his heart here. By using the sanctity of the marriage bed, and its defilement– something he knew we could understand– he shows us something of his pain regarding the betrayal of the children of Israel.

Did you catch the part about Hosea loving his wife and never leaving her? Close your eyes for a moment and freeze-frame that scene. You’ve discovered your spouse has been unfaithful. Not once but dozens of times. This is a person you thought you knew. This is a person you trusted. The truth has seared your soul like a hot iron. Every part of your being cries for justice. Hurt outweighs reason. What should you do?

Now, think about the worst betrayal you have experienced. Close your eyes for a moment and recall the pain. Now imagine you have to experience that pain every day for the rest of your life. And you have to do it with love. By now, most of you are probably thinking, “No way! I wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.

But that’s what God does.

You may be thinking, Ok, but he’s God he’s supposed to love unconditionally. You’re right. And he does. Over and over he demonstrates his faithfulness to us in spite of our rebellion, just as he did with Israel. He does it to paint a picture of his heart toward you and me.

Don’t get me wrong—he was angry at Israel’s betrayal and continual idolatry. But consider this: here in this story, as always, mercy is remembered in the midst of wrath. Rejection of his children is not an option. God never leaves for a better offer. His love is unfailing and his mercies are new every morning.

The story of Hosea provides a powerful window into the heart of God and how his heart breaks over our constant infidelity and wandering. While this story is symbolic of God’s relationship to Israel, it is nonetheless applicable to each and every child God has loved and desired intimacy with.

I believe God’s heart is saddened under the weight of our lack of faith and trust in his goodness. I believe he is disappointed that we often choose not to see the love of his heart toward us. And just as he lamented over Jerusalem in Luke 13:34, I think his heart is broken at how quickly we forget him to chase after another.

So consider this; God wants to show us that even though we whore after other things, even though we don’t trust him, even though we rage at him and blame him for our plight—just as the children of Israel did—he waits patiently for us, constantly showing us the mercy and compassion of his heart.

So, the next time you’re tempted to believe no one understands your pain–remember the story of Hosea, and how God demonstrates his faithfulness to us in spite of our wandering hearts.
.
Rita A. Schulte is a licensed professional Christian counselor in the northern Virginia area. She has written a book entitled Sifted As Wheat: finding hope and healing through the losses of life which is currently represented by Hartline Literary Agency. Rita also hosts a weekly podcast show called Heartline. You can find her at www.siftedaswheat.com.

Here’s Cheri’s story about learning to become complaint-free. I warn you: it’s convicting. But so, so good.

…

As I thumbed through a copy of A Complaint-Free World  five years ago, I considered myself the most optimistic, positive, encouraging (and obviously humble) person I knew.

In fact, I joked to my husband that we needed to buy two (maybe three) dozen copies to give the long list of negative people in my life who drag me down with their never-ending complaints, criticism, and gossip.

Then I read a little farther. And the author had the nerve to suggest that of all the negative people in my life, I might be the worst of the worst!

That. Made. Me. Mad.

So I decided to take the author’s Complaint-Free challenge: 21 days with no complaining. Just to prove how wrong he was, I even ordered his silly little purple bracelet.

The instructions were simple:  I started each day with the bracelet on my left wrist. As soon as I caught myself complaining, criticizing, or gossiping, I was to move the bracelet to the other wrist.

For accountability, I told my students what I was doing.

Big mistake.

Did my students ever warm up to the “challenge.” In the first class, my bracelet switched arms five times in just three minutes!

The shocker was that each time took me totally by surprise. I wasn’t even thinking critical thoughts, when suddenly, “Mrs. G? Is that complaining I hear?”

I soon discovered that my optimistic self-image resembled reality the way a chick flick resembles marriage: hardly at all.

Sound Familiar?

Maybe you’ve experienced some of the same warning signs I have. See if you identify with any of the following statements:

• “My life would be much easier without the negative people who drag me down.
• “I speak Sarcasm fluently.”
• “When I see a type-o on a sign, I have to point it out to someone.”
• “I’m surrounded by difficult people at work and/or at home.”
• “It’s not really gossip; everything we say about her is true.”
• “There’s an impossible person in my life who will never change.”
• “I struggle with anxiety, fear, and/or depression.”
• “Negative things people have said keep popping back into my mind.”

If two or more sound familiar, you’re invited to take The PURSE-onality Challenge!

What is The PURSE-onality Challenge?

Quite literally, it’s 31 days of replacing “baditude” with God’s word and gratitude, May 1-31 (with a warm-up week starting April 22.)

I’ve tried the Complaint-Free challenge many times in the last five years. But just trying to stop old bad habits was never enough; I needed to start new ones to replace the old.

So for one month, we’ll be focusing on four positive habits: spotlighting Personality strengths, eliminating complaints, journaling gratitude, and memorizing scripture.

Take The PURSE-onality Challenge if…

•  You feel convicted to change your thoughts and words.
• You’re at your wit’s end with a particular relationship.
• You desire more hope, joy, and peace in your life.

Check out Cheri’s website to sign up!

You’ll also find three free audio messages:

• Let’s Get PURSE-onal!
• Personality Puzzle for Parents of Preschoolers
• Healthy Marriages Major in History (NOT Math!) 

And you’ll receive a free e-Book: Top 10 Priceless Gifts that Don’t Cost a Dime for Each PURSE-onality!

Here’s how to win your own PURSE-onality Challenge journal and a set of 31 laminated Bible verse cards! Leave a comment telling what changes you’d most want to see in your life from taking The PURSE-onality Challenge!

Please leave your email address in the comment section like this: mary @ marydemuth.com. The drawing will be held Wednesday May 23rd.

Now go forth, and stop that whining!

Cheri Gregory has been married to her pastor/teacher/musician college sweetheart, Daniel, for 23 years. The Gregorys are enjoying their newly “empty nest,” now that Jonathon (19) has joined Annemarie (21) at college. Cheri is a high school English teacher and Christian speaker/author. Connect with her via Facebook, cheri@cherigregory.com, and www.CheriGregory.com.

I never met Chuck Colson.

Never shook his hand.

Never shared a meal.

But he had a profound impact on my writing life. Just by doing one simple, handwritten act.

On May 23, 2000,I heard Chuck deliver a Breakpoint entitled “Uncle Tom’s Cabin: The Power of Story.” Click the link to read it. I had been so stunned and struck by his words, that I ordered the transcript. One thing he said was “I know when it comes to learning moral lessons, I’ve often been much more affected by works of fiction than by abstract theological discourses.” He spoke of the story’s power to transform culture, something that resonated so deeply in me, I could physically feel the stirring in my chest. In that moment, I knew.

I knew.

I would, God willing, write novels like that.

A little bit later, I wrote Chuck a letter, thanking him for a book he wrote. Also included was my desire to someday write those novels that changed the world, my words laced and soaked with hope, fear, anticipation. I wondered, even, if I should write such a bold thing to a stranger. A famous stranger. I hadn’t written a book yet. I’d published a few small articles, but that was about it. The dream, though burning, seemed unreachable.

Chuck Colson sent back a standard typed thank you. But scribbled on the bottom of the business letters were these words:

“Keep writing. God will honor your faithfulness.”

Here are those words:

I kept that letter. Re-read those seven words over and over. Reminded myself that God would honor the hours, days, months, years I spent at the keyboard.

And eventually, I wrote and published those novels. Novels I hoped would change the world.

Fast forward to September 7, 2009. Imagine my complete surprise when a friend called me and said, “I heard about your book on Breakpoint today.”

Really?

I jumped over to Breakpoint, clicked on that day’s message entitled Daisy Chain: Protecting the Least of These from Abuse, and listened. And cried. And remembered those words, “Keep writing. God will honor your faithfulness.”

God had brought Chuck’s encouraging (and prophetic) words full circle. In the broadcast, he said, “I’m not a big fan of ‘message’ books where the writer neglects his or her craft and just concentrates on pushing an agenda. But Mary DeMuth is not that kind of writer. Her books are beautifully and sensitively written, and her characters are realistic and well developed. She has a true gift for showing go God’s light can penetrate even the darkest of situations, and start to turn lives around. Even her villains are not beyond the reach of God’s grace.”

I cried when I heard those words.

Cried because Chuck Colson (unknowingly) had bookended my writing journey, by offering a simple note of encouragement at just the right time, and praising the words I finally wept on the page.

I know there must be thousands of stories like this. And I know that was Chuck Colson’s heart: to deeply encourage folks with dreams for a better life. For people who hoped to change the world. He changed mine.

Thank you, Chuck. The words don’t seem enough today.

Here’s Erin.

Lately I have been percolating on the push-pull of cancer treatment. You’ve probably heard me say a million times that cancer treatment is brutal– full on, kick-you-in-the-booty, brutal. But it is also somewhat like a vacation. The obligations and expectations placed upon regular folk vaporize to nothingness when you’ve been pronounced as cancerous. People sing praises when you just show up. They’re happy just to see that you’re still breathing and holding yourself steady. (Granted, at times that really is about all you’re capable of managing.) So you get this glorious sense of freedom from expectations, freedom from obligations; but it’s paired with a whole lot of garbage you have to carry around with you.

As I mull this over in my mind, I remember the times in my life when I have sensed God wanting to do something big with me and I refused. Like a baby in a high chair, my mouth was clamped tight, my eyes wide and watchful. No way, no how, is THAT going in my mouth, God! I will not be a willing participant in whatever-it-is you’re trying to do here because I can tell beyond the shadow of a doubt that it is highly unpleasant. I’ll smear it in my hair, I’ll fling it across the room, I’ll scream and drool, I’ll pound on the high chair tray, but I will not open my mouth to what you’ve got on that spoon.

For me, cancer has been the biggest episode of Erin-refusing-to-eat-her-dinner.

First of all, people like me just don’t get cancer. We’re strong. We’re young. We’re healthy. We are really quite busy with many other altruistic adventures. And frankly, we’re just occupied with other important business. Thanks anyhow.

Secondly, cancer could not possibly be something lovingly prepared for me by my heavenly Father that He intended for me to eat, fed to me by His own strong hand. That’s ridiculous. God wants me to continue feeling good and moving forward for His kingdom– while He is serving me up nothing but yummy delicacies and spiritual rapture on a daily basis. (Let me interject here to remind the me from 2 years ago- “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” Matthew 7: 9-11)

In the grand scheme of things, 2 years later I’m slightly embarrassed over my infantile attitude toward what God wanted to give me. More than embarrassed, I am grateful that He stuck with me, continuing to re-fill that spoon with the food I was thrashing around to avoid. Patiently wiping up the mess I made with my duck-and-weave maneuvers, He persisted to not only feed me what He had for me, but to stay right with me while I tested it on my tongue. He was always before me, watching my responses to this foreign taste and texture, encouraging me to swallow and take another spoonful until I emptied the bowl.

So when I read passages of Scripture like the one below, I am at turns blown out of the water with it’s implications and then giddy with delight over the way God cares for and orchestrates my life. I wonder what other times I thought I was being oh-so mature and self-actualized, when really I was acting like a bratty baby in a high chair.

And yet He loves. He loves.

Ezekiel 2:8- 3:3 ” ‘But you, son of man, listen to what I say to you. Do not rebel like that rebellious people; open your mouth and eat what I give you.’ Then I looked, and I saw a hand stretched out to me. In it was a scroll, which he unrolled before me. On both sides of it were written words of lament and mourning and woe. And he said to me, ‘Son of man, eat what is before you, eat this scroll; then go and speak to the people of Israel.’ So I opened my mouth, and he gave me the scroll to eat. Then he said to me, ‘Son of man, eat this scroll I am giving you and fill your stomach with it.’ So I ate it, and it tasted as sweet as honey in my mouth.”

Funny how God doesn’t hide the fact that the scroll has lament, mourning and woe written on it. Front and back– there is no alternate story line here. He’s not sneaking it in the mashed potatoes, hoping to pull one over on me. He is straight-forward and true, “This is not going to look pleasant to the eyes. This probably isn’t even going to feel good.”

And yet, to the heart that submits to His care, these woes, laments and mourning have a supernatural way of tasting like honey. I am a witness.

I still mourned with cancer. I’ve definitely uttered my share of woes! And there’s been lament piled upon lament. Several, I’ve shared. But cancer’s maturing of my spiritual palate has made these things taste differently than when I took that first tentative nibble. I’m not gobbling it up, by any means– it’s lament, mourning and woe, for goodness sake. But it tastes more and more like honey the more that I obey and yield to Him.

This close-lipped, arm-crossed, rebellion of mine needs to go. It’s just making a sloppy mess.

But as I look at my life now and the heart I long to have for Jesus, I have some fallacy in my thinking. I cannot comprehend that Jesus would love me if I became a major screw up. If I rebelled, I don’t believe He would like or love me.

This is a huge problem.

Now don’t worry about me, or whether I’m going to go all crazy and rebel to test my theory. I won’t, Lord willing.

But pray for me, that I would truly, truly understand the beautiful freshness and reality of God’s love that pursues repentant prodigals and loves every single person on this earth, even the folks who don’t give a rip about Him.

I do want to believe God’s love is bigger than mine. I do want to live in light of that kind of grace. But it’s still hard for me to understand.

I attended that school two long years. I say long because I lived over an hour away from the school and it was an ordeal to make it in. Also of note is that we won a class action suit against the “school” and got most of our money back. Which proves why I didn’t become an internationally famous model (with braces.)

Even so, I learned a few things. Three to be exact.

1. Poise is important no matter how you look. There were beautiful people who slouched and looked at the ground. And there were folks less striking who strutted with self confidence. The latter did better in modeling school, and they learned the art of letting go of inhibitions. I’ve learned these past few years that bemoaning my lot, focusing on the negative, and shrinking back into myself does not ensure success. Having a more optimistic, joyful, pleasant and hopeful outlook not only blesses my poise, but it endears me to others.
2. We are responsible to steward our talents. I was not model material. I may have been tall and thin enough, but I wasn’t going to have a career in that field. However, I could sing. So I concentrated on honing that skill. Later, I realized I could write, and I’ve spent many, many years stewarding that talent. Instead of looking at my lack (no model potential), it’s better to realistically assess what I do have, then run with those talents.
3. Covering up natural beauty doesn’t enhance it. When they pancaked me with make-up and I went through the photo shoot process, the makeup did help, but afterward, I felt fake, and my face hurt. I couldn’t wait to take off all that goo. And when I see women who are overcaked, I wonder what they’re trying to hide. Similarly, when we are ashamed or scared of who we truly are, we smear on all sorts of facade-building pancake makeup, becoming who we’re not, in order to impress. But the truly beautiful are those who see themselves, know they are loved by Jesus, and are authentically all there–no masks.

So the whole become-a-model-or-just-look-like-one fiasco had its benefits. I learned things. I may not strut a runway (I still can’t wear heals well), or have my face photoshopped on a magazine (thank goodness), but I rest in knowing that God adores me. He created me to do some pretty fun things (writing rocks!), and He has made me more and more real every day.

How about you? Ever had an experience from the past, good or bad, that taught you life lessons? Please share.

Like when a makeup expert told me what kind of skin tone I had, and I believed it for YEARS only to find out she was wrong. Or when a friend tells a story to me only to find out it’s wrong, or at least not quite accurate. Yet I spend years believing it, tempering the way I view another. Or the time a friend-at-the-time told me of a conspiracy against her, only to find out later it had been partially fabricated, and those who had issues with her were entirely (scarily) valid.

There is power in the first story. We tend to believe that first story as gospel, then filter everything through that story.

But we shouldn’t.

If we want to be mature believers, we need to exercise our discernment muscle. When folks tell us something, we should be quiet, listen, then weigh the information. We shouldn’t immediately take our friend’s side, berating the other “awful” person. My husband and I have learned this lesson over the years as we’ve counseled married couples. I’ll hear the wife’s story and immediately form an impression of the husband. My husband will hear the husband’s story and immediately form an impression of the wife. But when we’re all together and the words fly, everyone’s perceptions are wonky, and the truth lies somewhere between both people’s stories.

Many years ago, a woman told me awful, awful things about someone else. And I let them deter me from friendship for a time. But God messed with me and told me to pursue that friendship. Although I did see that my first friend’s words were often true, they were distorted. The woman didn’t maliciously act the way she did; she lived in a very difficult situation and was doing what she knew how to cope. If I had let the first story have the most power, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to speak into the second woman’s life.

Here’s the truth: We like to be right, especially about our opinions of other people. We like to be right, while they are wrong. And we like to peddle our case against someone else to prove our point. We may have only half the story. And when we peddle destructive stories, we mar the potential of others to have meaningful relationships.

I’m not speaking here of wolves who parade around as sheep. We must warn about that. We have a moral obligation to protect others from predators. But we don’t have a moral obligation to spread our stories because we want to be right, to appear to be the wronged one.

I write this solely to myself. I am guilty. I believe the first story far too often. I’m learning to be quieter, to take it to God, to sift and weigh. And to pursue as God leads. What about you?

Part of me wanted to flaunt, to be honest. To let her know “who” she was talking to, but thankfully decorum kept my tongue back in. (I am writing this to show you my fragile heart.) I chose instead to simply answer her question. “Yes, I write.”

“Oh that’s nice. What do you write?”

“Novels, a memoir, parenting books,” I said.

“Oh,” she said.

We made small talk as we shopped, but then I lost track of her.

Later she came up to me and apologized (oh why would she need to?). “I didn’t realize who you were,” she said, a flash of embarrassment on her face.

But it was me who felt bad, who had wanted the honor in the moment. I think I said something like, “Oh don’t worry a moment. I’m just someone who writes.”

But the interchange got me thinking about how much I do love acclaim, how I relish honor, how sometimes in this crazy writing industry that takes years and years of grit and guts and very little glory I want a shimmer of recognition. Somehow I feel that validates all the struggle. Going to conferences, I’ve seen how new writers feel in awe of those who are published (I’ve been one of those writers, and I’ve had my share of gaping). So in some ways, I want to “arrive” at recognition, to be seen, to be noticed.

And yet, I think about dear, dear Jesus, who of Anyone on the earth had the right to say, “Hey, I’m God! Bow to me! Look at me! I’ve seen heaven. I’ve left heaven to come here. I’ve paid My dues to the nth degree.” Yet, He didn’t. He withdrew. He told those who were healed not to trumpet Him but to present themselves to the priests. He longed for His Father’s glory. He stooped to wash the feet of the one who would betray Him.

And then I read this account in Luke 20:46-47.  “Beware of these teachers of religious law! For they like to parade around in flowing robes and love to receive respectful greetings as they walk in the marketplaces. And how they love the seats of honor in the synagogues and the head table at banquets. Yet they shamelessly cheat widows out of their property and then pretend to be pious by making long prayers in public. Because of this, they will be severely punished.”

Severely punished.

For wanting recognition.

For flaunting that they arrived.

For thirsting for the honor they felt due to them.

For loving the applause of man on this earth, forgetting the Audience of One.

For taking their rank and abusing it to hurt widows. (I hope I’ve not done that.)

I think back on that small encounter, how I felt, how I wanted to be recognized, and I shudder.

Jesus, forgive me for wanting the glory that is rightly Yours, for seeking honor in another’s words without first recognizing that all honor should fall on You alone. After all, it’s You who gave me the ability to string words together, You who made my life story redemptive, You who give me the breath I breathe in this moment. The honor is Yours. Forgive me for wanting to hoard it to myself. Instead, right now, I choose to heap honor upon You, to take the last seat, to learn obedience through suffering, to see any fame as an opportunity to make You famous and serve those who hurt.

PMS (Premenstrual Syndrome for those of you of the male persuasion)

• Pretty Mary Syndrome
• Post Monkey Stress
• Partly Maniacal Seizures
• Pray for Much Sugar

FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation)

• Feral Bears Incinerate
• Fantastic Bubbles Inflate
• Fake Badguys of Indiana
• First Be Irate

CIA (The Central Intelligence Agency)

• Carnal Insect Advocates
• Center for Intelligent Aardvarks
• Catapulting Irate Actors
• Cadbury-egg Inhalers Anonymous

FDIC (Federal Department of Insurance and Something That Starts with a C)

• Fighting Dumb Insecure Cats
• Federal Department of Ichabod Crane
• Finding Doors in Crisis
• Feeling Deeply In Canada

How about you? Care to come up with your own for PETA? CBS? PBS? Any others? Let’s have some fun.

This Easter weekend, Chuck Colson experienced bleeding on the brain and emergency surgery. You can read the story here.

If you have a strong stomach, scroll down and read the comments for the post. Wow. Here are a few:

• From “Satan” Hey Chuck! Drop on by whenever you are ready. I’ve got the jaws of hell wide open for you.
• From Howlyn: Chuck Colson: you are a corrupt piece of garbage.
• From Camel: When he dies, I wonder if the very rich Colson will have to try to pass through the eye of a needle before the let him in heaven.
• From Charles: What a crappy article about a rancid sack of garbage no one cares about. Too bad the surgery worked.
• From J.W.: He has ugly lips.

It’s sickening, really. But not surprising.

Keep this in mind: “Do not be surprised, my brothers, if the world hates you”. (1 John 3:13, NIV)

Or this: “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first.  If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you.  Remember what I told you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. If they obeyed my teaching, they will obey yours also.” (John 15:18-20, NIV).

The problem comes when we worry too much about people not liking us, so much so that we become vanilla, never offending anyone.

Peter was pretty darn clear that if we love Jesus, folks will HATE us. It’s an indication that the Spirit of glory rests upon us!

“Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you.But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you.If you suffer, it should not be as a murderer or thief or any other kind of criminal, or even as a meddler.However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name” (1 Peter 4:12-16).

Timothy confirms this: “In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Timothy 3:12).

It’s an inevitability–this hatred, this persecution.

So the awful comments flung Chuck’s way while he languishes and fights his way back to health don’t surprise me. They indicate that God’s radical redemption has bothered the powers of darkness. Chuck’s heart for Jesus enrages the evil forces in this world.

Which makes me ask myself the question: where am I experiencing persecution? How have I angered the powers of darkness by my (God’s!) redemption? What about you?

Be encouraged, all those of you who have had folks hate you because of your proclamation of Jesus. Take note that HE SEES YOU. He knows. He applauds the Spirit of glory within you. He smiles upon you. Rest there.

Meet Rita Schulte! 

“On the Heartline Podcast, I talk to some of the leading professionals in the Christian counseling and literary world about cutting edge issues affecting the hearts and lives of all of us today,” Rita said.

Tune into and subscribe to the Heartline Podcast on iTunes (Heartlinepodcast). Or visit Rita’s website here.

Some specific, favorite podcasts:

• Emerson Eggerich (Love & Respect Ministries)
• Mary DeMuth (Hey, that’s me!)
• Teresa Sours, an amazing story of overcoming
• Dr. Everette Worthington, Professor of Psychology, expert in forgiveness
• Dr. John Thomas, Why does a good God allow suffering?

Sometimes we just need an inspiring story to help us know we’re not alone. Rita’s podcasts fill that need. Find hope and encouragement today.

This contest is now closed. Congratulations Sarah A. for winning the wallet. She was selected by Random.org.

When I was young, my mom would put me on a plane, all by myself, to venture from the Northwest to Ohio to visit my grandparents, cousins and aunts and uncles (and various sundry relatives in between). I’d battle fear the night before the flight, sure I would die. I wouldn’t sleep a lick. My nervous stomach went haywire, and I fretted my way through blue skies until Ohio, hot and damp, welcomed me.

My grandparents have left the earth in the past decade, orphaning me a little. But as I look back, I remember small things. My grandfather’s keen ability of fact memorization. And my grandmother’s penchant for purses and wallets. She never called her purse a “purse.” No, it was always a “pocketbook.” Sometimes she’d let me have an old pocketbook to play with or even take home with me.

But it’s her wallets that fascinated me. They often had those funny clasp thingies on the top, so that whenever I see one now, I think of her. The way she opened the clasp to pull out money at garage sales or fabric stores. The way she slipped a dollar out for me so I could have a strawberry ice cream cone.

Imagine my joy when Dayspring kindly offered a new collection for me to try out, and one of the items was this:

Receiving the wallet brought back memories, flooding into me. I could smell my grandmother’s perfume, notice her long slender feet (size 11 6A!), and hear her laughter. When I left Ohio, I cried for an hour on the plane, wanting to stay, wanting to hug every relative until they popped. Funny how one wallet can remind me of so many things, so many loved people.

…

I’ve really enjoyed Dayspring Products, particularly this line of products. If you’d like to see all the Redeemed products, click the cool graphic below. The wallet is included, as well as several other kitschy things.

And now for the fun! Dayspring has agreed to give away the cool claspy wallet to one of my cool classy readers! Woohoo! Enter by commenting on this post. The random drawing happens on Friday at noon CST, so you have a few days to comment. Here are some guidelines:

1. Share a memory of your grandmother (this counts as one entry).
2. Click the Redeemed graphic above and share what product you like (separate comment, counts as one entry).
3. Tweet: Fun giveaway of a retro wallet by @MaryDeMuth #indeals. Comment to win! (Comment to tell me you tweeted, counts as one entry)
4. Share this post by clicking the Facebook button below (Comment to tell me you shared, counts as one entry).
5. Like my facebook author page: http://www.facebook.com/authormarydemuth. (Comment to tell me you liked me–oh how funny to write that–counts as one entry).

I hope you win! Now share and comment away!

France was a time like that for me. There were days and weeks when I felt so lost and alone and unseen that all I could do was grit my way through life. Sometimes I gave up (to be honest). There were days I didn’t want to get out of bed, walk the kids to school, engage with other French folks. The dailiness of failure and sadness got to me.

Somehow, through God’s ample strength, I persevered. This is not a testament to my grit, though. It’s a testimony of God’s strength.

I like what A.B. Simpson writes about 2 Corinthians 12:10 about Paul rejoicing in his weaknesses. “The literal translation of this verse adds a startling emphasis to it, allowing it to speak for itself with power we have probably never realized. It is as follows: ‘Therefore I take pleasure in being without strength, being insulted, experiencing emergencies, and being chased and forced into a corner for Christ’s sake, for when I am without strength, I am dynamite.’”

Maybe that’s the secret of tenacity–this stark realization that when we can’t, He can. When we are small, He has a chance to be big on our behalf. When we are waning, His power turns to dynamite.

Tell me your story, please. I’ve shared my tale of woe a few times here on this blog. I want to hear from you.

When did you have to persevere? What did you learn about your strength? God’s? What lessons did you learn? Are you in a season of gritting through or sailing beyond? Or both?