“And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.” Genesis 3:15

It only took six days for God to create the world.  He spoke everything into existence, from the majestic Alps to the fluttering Monarch butterfly, to the simple blades of grass.  Then, instead of words, He used His hands to create man, and gave him His very breath to bring him to life.  This creation was different from everything else He made because He chose to create man in His own image, reflecting His creativity, intelligence, and character.  God rested on the seventh day and said It was good.  The Bible does not record exactly how long it was, but we can safely assume that, within a short period of time, Eve’s encounter with Satan changed creation’s perfection forever.  Their disobedience led to consequences for not only Adam and Eve, but also for generations of humanity to come.  Although things looked bleak for mankind, God, with unending mercy and infinite wisdom, had a plan in place to redeem His beloved creation.  He told Eve that someday her offspring would conquer sin!  That promise came to fruition about four thousand years later in the birth of a little baby in Bethlehem.

Christmas has not always been a holly jolly season for me filled with wonder.  Some Christmases have been hard, like the one our family faced five years ago.  Christmas plans were in place, gifts were waiting to be bought when we found out the unexpected news that my husband had been laid off.  With our income being cut by more than half and the uncertainty of the future, we quickly changed plans and simplified our Christmas.  Yet, seeds of bitterness and anger about the injustice of the situation welled up within me.  Despite my hardened heart, God used the generosity of others to demonstrate His grace and mercy.  Within a few short weeks, financial blessings poured in that more than made up for our loss of income during the Christmas season.  These blessings reminded me during the next hard six months while my husband remained unemployed that God had a plan, just like He did in Bethlehem!

“so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.” Hebrews 9:28

Advent calendars can be found in stores everywhere, from Walmart to Pottery Barn.  Some are simple pieces of cardboard made with little doors for children to pry open, others are elaborately carved boxes with drawers that have little messages or pieces of candy.  Pinterest abounds with DIY patterns to make one for your family while even beauty specialty stores and coffee shops have created ones to appeal to adults.  Even though it has become extremely commercialized, the root of this countdown activity to Christmas has a significant spiritual meaning.

In Latin, advent simply means “coming”.  Although how it is celebrated has evolved over the years, the main premise of the Advent season is anticipating the coming of Christ.  We can spend time reflecting not only on the miraculous birth of our savior, Jesus, but also anticipating His return.  For Christians, our lives have already been changed by Jesus’s birth, death, and resurrection.  Yet, even with salvation, we still experience loss, heartache, sickness, and death.  But our hope lies beyond those painful moments.  We have the assurance that Jesus is coming again!  We can look forward to a time when “He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain” (Revelation 21:4).  This Christmas, I want to spend more time anticipating Jesus’ return!

“You who bring good news to Zion, go up on a high mountain. You who bring good news to Jerusalem, lift up your voice with a shout, lift it up, do not be afraid; say to the towns of Judah, “Here is your God.” Isaiah 40:9

When I had children, I was intentional about bringing Jesus into the Christmas season.  Yes, I wanted my children to experience the magic of Christmas: the twinkling lights, the glistening tinsel and all the traditions that went along with the season.  But I also wanted them to know the real reason why we were celebrating Christmas: the miraculous birth of our Savior!  So, I filled my home with books, music, and Bible verses focusing on Jesus’ birth.  However, despite all my efforts, it never felt like enough, like I was slightly off target.

For the past month, my husband and I have been discussing the concept of Advent.  What is it? Why is it important?  How does one strike a balance between celebrating Christmas with its twinkle lights, and still focusing on the true wonder of season?  What can I learn from Advent?  How can I avoid getting caught up in the hustle and bustle of the typical Christmas?

I invite you to explore some of the answers I have to these questions in the month of December.  Starting tomorrow, I will be posting twenty-five daily micro-blogs through Christmas day.  Along with unwrapping Advent, I will be sharing a simple cookie recipe, or a favorite book, the history behind some of my favorite songs, and some favorite family traditions.

I promise these micro-blogs will be short, a paragraph or two (three at the absolute most).  My prayer for these Advent posts is that they will not be just things to check off on your to-do list, but instead they will be a few moments of your day that you find restorative to your soul.  Discover with me the true joy of Christmas for these next twenty-five days.  And if you want to make sure you do not miss any of my blogs, please subscribe to my blog.  It will come directly to your email daily.  Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your holiday season!

“Parents tell their children about your faithfulness.”

Isaiah 38:19

“I miss Mayberry, sitting on the porch drinking ice-cold cherry Coke where everything is black and white, picking on a six string where people pass by and you call them by their first name, watching the clouds roll by.  Bye, Bye.”

“Mayberry” written by Arlos Smith, performed by Rascal Flatts

One of my favorite days of the year is daylight savings time in the fall.  The weather has cooled enough to add the flannel sheets to my bed.  Curled up in my blankets, I fall asleep delighted to know that I am magically gaining an extra hour of rest.  Yet, with all the chaos of 2020, I had to concur with the meme floating around Facebook: “Can we skip fall back, I don’t want another hour in 2020!”

It has been a tough year for everyone, a year that has left us all unsettled and desperately trying to adapt to a new normal.  So many of us have experienced losses and broken traditions.  With the holidays approaching and COVID-19 cases rising, the holiday season will likely look different for many of us.  Travel plans may be cancelled, holiday gatherings are smaller and seasonal celebrations have gone virtual.  As a family, we have made the responsible decision to cancel our annual hot chocolate party.  This is one of the highlights of my year: opening our home, sharing homemade hot chocolate and homemade peppermint marshmallows with friends and family for the past eight years.  Yet, we don’t want to potentially expose ourselves or others to the virus.  While taking my daily walk, an older neighbor shared with me that she will be spending her Thanksgiving alone for the first time.  My heart reached out to her, wanting to invite her to our home.  But the reason for her seclusion was not that she didn’t have family to spend the holidays with, but rather for her protection.  Sadly, I do not think her case is unique.

Traditions are important.  They anchor a family together and help create a sense of identity.  By their very nature of being repetitive, they provide a consistency in children’s lives, providing them with memorable moments.  They also aid in passing on family beliefs and values.  One of my homeschooling heroes, Sally Clarkson, reflected in a past blog post, “Yet, now that my children are grown, I am amazed how much they communicate over and over again how much our family traditions meant to them, I think it  planted very deep roots intertwined around their hearts that tie us all together to the same faith, the same moral values, the same purposes that we share as we live life from day to day.”  Traditions connect us to one another by helping us share our values across generations.

A few weeks ago, I took a trip to a Mayberry-like place in West Virginia when visiting my brother-in-law, Don, and his family.  They live in a hollow (pronounced “holler” for those of you with northern accents).  A hollow is a depression between two mountains or hills in the Appalachian range.  It differs from a valley because the depression is close, and you can literally “holler” from one hill to the other.  This hollow has been in my sister-in-law’s family for generations.  As we walked down to her mother’s home, Anita shared with me some of the history.  Her great-grandparents were the first to plant roots in the hollow.  They later moved from the land when her grandfather was three years old.  At this age he was already attached to the land, refusing to move, and hiding in the wood box.  They finally promised him that if he moved, he would be allowed to gather all the eggs in the chicken coop the next morning.  That night, his parents took all their eggs and hid them around the chicken coop.  Later, as a married adult, her grandfather returned to his beloved hollow and raised his five children there.  Anita also grew up in the hollow most of her life, playing with her cousins, exploring the woods, and creating memories.

After Don and Anita were married, they moved into town, about five minutes away.  Her mother, along with a few other family members, still lived on portions of the land, enabling Anita’s three daughters to create memories there as well.  A few years ago, Don and Anita were blessed to be able to purchase a portion of the land with a house at the top of the hollow.  This piece of real estate was not just a future place to spend retirement, but also an opportunity to allow their grown daughters and their families to build homes on the land.  One of their daughters has already built a home on the exact spot where Anita’s grandfather raised his family.

A piece of land that has long been in the family’s name is not enough to make this a Mayberry.  What made Anita’s hollow special were the traditions created on this land.  As she was sharing the history of the land, we were walking to her mother’s house at the bottom of the hill for the famous “Fudge Night”.  A few years ago, I heard about Fudge Night and became enchanted with the idea.  I admit, when we planned our visit, I knew that if we arrived early enough, we would have the privilege to be invited to the traditional Fudge Night!

Miss Linda, Anita’s mother, is absolutely one of the sweetest ladies I have ever met!  She exudes southern charm and hospitality, making everyone feel welcome as soon as they meet her.  She loves her family passionately and dotes on her great-grandchildren.  Behind her bright smile, is a lady filled with confidence in God’s promises.  She faced one of the worst nightmares of any parent, the death of her son, Jeff.  As a teenager, Jeff was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer and, for five years, she traveled with him back and forth to a cancer treatment center in Maryland.  During this time, she kept a diary, sharing her faith, fears and, ultimately, her trust in the Lord.  Her son, eventually, lost his battle with cancer, forever leaving an empty place in her life and home.  Recently, she released a book based on her diary from that time.  To find out more about her incredible journey of faith, you can find the book here on Amazon.

Prior to Jeff’s death, Miss Linda started making homemade fudge in an old pot on the stove.  She would invite family members over, and as soon as it was ready, hot decadent fudge would be spooned onto plates, waiting to be devoured.  After Jeff’s death, she made fudge every Friday night and has continued this tradition for the past thirty-one years.  In addition to Fudge Night, Miss Linda still makes the traditional Sunday dinner, where her daughter and granddaughters gather with their families, along with nieces and nephews and cousins, eating some of her famous dishes like meatloaf and pot roast.

Fudge Night is not just an opportunity for the family to indulge in a chocolate fantasy, it’s also an opportunity to connect with one another.  Despite life’s busyness and trials, it has remained a constant in their lives, a constant that provides a place of refuge, filled with laughter and love.  Although she follows a recipe, Miss Linda knows instinctively when to add the creamy peanut butter to make it the right consistency.  As it is poured into a pan, the love that goes into making the fudge adds a quality that no recipe can record.  Within minutes, little hands, along with big hands, crowd around the pot to eat the hot fudge, while stories and laughter continue amongst everyone.

In their small West Virginia community, Fudge Night is somewhat of a legend.  One of Anita’s cousins proposed to his future wife at a fudge night.  One year, when my niece, Lindsay, was a cheerleader, the high school football team won a big game.  After the game, the entire team, along with most of the high school, ended up at Miss Linda’s home celebrating at Fudge Night.  Over the years, they have had people knock on the door, asking if they could come to the famous Fudge Night, and they are always welcomed by the family!

Fudge Night was all that I imagined it to be and so much more!  Typically, I find fudge a little too sweet, but this fudge was different.  It had a deep cocoa flavor enriched with the creaminess of the peanut butter.  I started off with a modest portion in the beginning, enjoying the conversation, delighted to see my two-year grandniece devouring the fudge with bright twinkling eyes.  I soon realized my portion was gone, and demurely, went back for more.  The house was filled with laughter, stories, and love while thirteen of us shared a pan of fudge.

As we headed back up the hollow a few hours later, I was left with a sense of awe.  I realized I had just visited Mayberry.  It felt like a sacred moment, a gentle reminder to me of the importance of traditions, family, love, and values.  It showed me the power of one woman, who kept her faith and, along with her family, built some memorials to the faithfulness of God.  Yes, she had experienced a devastating loss, but she didn’t let that loss paralyze her life.  She poured into her daughter and her daughter’s future family a sense of permanency by opening her home every Friday night with fudge, reminding them that God was still good.  This is such a beautiful example of the gospel in action!

Yes, my hot chocolate party is canceled.  Yes, my holiday gatherings and traditions might look a little different, this year.  Despite these losses, God is still good and faithful!  Instead of focusing on the losses of the season, I am still going to keep some of my traditions, celebrate with my family and build some memorials for my children and grandchild.  And, hopefully, sometime in 2021, I can plan another visit to Mayberry and Fudge Night!

“However, as it is written:”What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived”, the things God has prepared for those who love him.”

1 Corinthians 2:9

When I was in the fifth grade, I entered Narnia for the first time when I discovered The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe on a shelf in the Sheboygan Falls Library.  Taking the book home, I devoured the pages as fast as Edmund devoured his Turkish Delight.  I imagined discovering a wardrobe, climbing inside, and being transported to a new land.  I wanted to meet a faun and have dinner with talking beavers.  I cried when Aslan died at the hand of the White Witch and rejoiced when he came back to life.  I continued with the other books in the series, but they did not really capture my attention until later.

I rediscovered the land of Narnia as a new mother, when I was looking for some light reading while caring for two active toddlers.  I quickly realized that what I thought was light reading was really a treasure trove of spiritual insights.  I celebrated the beauty of creation reading The Magician’s Nephew.  I longed for the boldness of Reepicheep, a little mouse, when defending the kingdom.  I was moved to repentance when I saw Eustace, a boy who was turned into a dragon, have his pride stripped away along with his dragon skin by Aslan’s claws.  I longed for heaven reading The Last Battle.

C.S. Lewis, the author of The Chronicles of Narnia series, is considered one of the foremost apologists of the twentieth century.  He not only wrote children’s books, but also many books on Christianity, discussing, among other things, the concepts of faith, joy, and grace.  He is often quoted by many modern theologians.  Although his Narnia books can point someone towards God, Lewis would be the first to argue that the Bible, a rich living text, should be the ultimate source for understanding God.  He had a rich understanding of the Bible and how it applied to the bigger picture, the picture of our story fitting into God’s story.

The whole Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, is the epic story of God. In Women of the Word, Jen Wilkin says, “the Bible is telling us about the reign and rule of God.  Its topography speaks of creation, fall, redemption, and restoration in every vista.”  It is not just a manual on how to live as a Christian or a map pointing our way toward heaven.  It is God’s story, revealing His character.  His majesty and artistry are displayed through His words as He speaks creation into existence in Genesis.  He bestowed a special status on humans when He created them in His own image, longing to fellowship with them.  Yet, this state of perfection was marred when sin separated man from his creator.  Despite this fallen state, God had a merciful plan fully revealed in the life of Jesus.  Jesus redeemed man from sin by dying on the cross, bringing to us the hope of restoration through His resurrection!

This epic story, the Bible, has lots of supporting characters, such as Abraham, Moses, Rahab, Esther, Daniel, Peter, and Paul.  All these characters have different stories in different settings.  Some spent their lives wandering in deserts while others lived in palaces.  Some were fishermen while others earned their living through prostitution.  Yet, despite the vast differences in these characters and their various circumstances, God ordained these stories to be a part of His written word because they played a part in His larger story.  For example, Rahab, although she was a prostitute, recognized the power of the God and chose to hide the Hebrew spies.  This simple act of faith resulted in her family being rescued from the fall of Jericho.  Furthermore, her reputation was restored when her name was recorded in the lineage of Jesus!  She had no idea that generations later, despite her past, her DNA would play a part in the redemption of the whole world.

It is easy to get a microscopic view of our lives.  We get caught up in our day to day living, not realizing that our lives are bigger than the short years we live on earth.  Our story, with God’s hand, plays a part in not just the lives of those immediately around us, but in generations to come, as well.  Like Rahab, we have an epic part to play in God’s story.

Although I am in the process of writing a book about my own epic story, my story starts with my Uncle Dennis, as a young man searching for God in 1975.  Dennis, my mom’s older brother, had his hunger stirred for God by a friend’s testimony.  He attended a church service in a different city from where he lived and immediately saw his need to be baptized.  He left that service, having given his heart to God and with a desire to know God more.  He started reading the Bible, found a local church to attend, and has served God ever since.

Although Dennis has an extensive knowledge of the Bible, he never felt called to preach.  He has never been a Sunday School teacher.  He does not write a blog or make Facebook posts expounding on his faith.  Yet, in his quiet faithful way, he has impacted many lives, including mine and, as a result, the lives of my children and my grandchild.  First, as a little girl, I can remember my uncle being the first man to compliment me on my appearance.  As a five-year-old, I would twirl around in my strawberry peasant dress, soaking in his compliments, grinning from ear to ear when he called me “strawberry shortcake.”  These simple words acted as antidote to the insults I heard at home, giving me hope that I was something more.  He was also the person who introduced me to God by bringing me to Sunday School as a child.  For a short season, those few hours every Sunday morning provided me with peace from the swirling chaos at home.  Later, after I stopped attending regularly, he continued to pray for me, sometimes prompted by dreams God had given to him.  I believe these prayers provided a hedge of protection around me and my family.  Finally, my Uncle Dennis and Aunt Brenda, despite being in the middle of one of their darkest moments, reached out to me when my brokenness came to light.  They embodied the love of Christ by setting aside their own pain and reaching out to a shattered teenager, giving her hope when she felt hopeless.  This simple act was the beginning of my restoration process!

My story was not the only story impacted by my uncle’s life.  The obvious transformation of his life by Jesus gave him the boldness to invite a co-worker, Marvin, out to a revival service.  Later, Marvin shared with his wife about the invitation, while their son, Wayne, who had been searching for God on his own, overheard the conversation in his room.  Wayne instantly felt a stirring in his heart and, of his own volition, attended a revival service that Sunday evening.  He walked into the church not knowing anyone personally, but knowing only the name of his father’s coworker, Dennis.  Wayne was later instrumental in leading his whole family and others into a relationship with the Lord.  In addition, Dennis and Brenda ministered to countless teenagers, mentoring them in their walks with God.  Finally, Dennis provided a source of consistency and strength in the life of his wife and daughter.  This quiet man would not describe his life as being epic, but his impact, like most supporting characters in the Bible, is impacting generational stories in the epic story of God!

As an adult, I understand more of the symbolism in the stories of Narnia.  I get chills every time I read the last chapter of The Magician’s Nephew.  The main character, a young boy named Digory, has brought darkness into the newly created world of Narnia by his sinful behavior.  After partially redeeming himself for his mistake, Digory later plants a Narnian seed at his home in London.  This seed grows into a magnificent tree, which is later cut down and the wood used to build a wardrobe.  This same wardrobe becomes the gateway for others to enter the land of Narnia.  My story and your story, just like my Uncle Dennis’ story, can become the gateway to the redemption of others by God, leading to their own story of restoration!

In The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis ends The Chronicles of Narnia series with the following paragraph:

“And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them.  And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story.  All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page:  now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

Our stories may have different characters, settings, and conflicts.  However, despite these differences, we all need to find resolutions to our own individual conflicts through the life of Jesus, taking our place in His epic story.  What is amazing is that our story can continue to be written for eternity, finding complete restoration with God.  With our finite minds, we cannot imagine what God has in store for us.  1 Corinthians 2:9 declares, “What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human has conceived, the things God has prepared for those who love him.”

“Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath:” James 1:15

A few years ago, I went to New York City with my sister-in-law and nieces.  We walked among the streets of New York, taking in the sights.  We looked for Eloise in the Plaza Hotel, ate pizza at John’s and window shopped at Tiffany’s.  While we were in Rockefeller Center, we saw a Kate Spade store and decided to look at designer purses.  Although I typically buy my purses at Target, I must admit I was a bit entranced with the merchandise.  The purses were in bright vivid colors with whimsical patterned linings peeking out from the inside.  One purse, a small picnic basket with strawberries on top, seemed perfect to carry while taking a stroll in Central Park.  Even her umbrellas were delightful, making me want to sing for rain like Christopher Robin.

After leaving New York, I did a little research on Kate Spade.  She started designing handbags that were both functional and stylish, without being too formal, in her living room.  Her designs were known for their touch of whimsy and eventually became staples at Barney’s and Macy’s.  She expanded her designs to housewares, including dishes and linens.  She even wrote a few books on her design philosophy and has a few notable quotes such as, “She makes the day brighter; she leaves a little sparkle wherever she goes.”  “Think, travel, celebrate, charm, decorate, dress, live-colorfully” is another quote of hers often appearing on Pinterest boards.  I identified with her optimistic view of life along with her designs, which created a secret desire to someday own a Kate Spade purse!

A few months later, I was shocked to hear that this woman, who told others to “Eat cake for breakfast”, was found dead by her own hand at age 55!  According to her husband, she had struggled with anxiety and depression for years and decided to end her own life.  This woman, who created beautiful purses that exuded happiness, struggled with darkness within herself that diminished her spark.  We, as consumers, had no idea of the true story Kate Spade was living.

I want to acknowledge that Kate Spade suffered from a mental illness that is sometimes hard to control, even with medication.  I believe she was genuine in wanting to make women’s days brighter by creating beautiful handbags.  Her mental illness, like any other illness, eventually affected her optimism, creating a sense of hopelessness and resulting in her ending her life.

We live in a world full of “Kate Spades”.  People are always posting Instagram pictures of their family eating a homemade meal, when after the perfect picture, the meal is consumed in silence due to familial tensions.  We see people in the store faking smiles, while inwardly they are falling apart because of broken relationships, addictions, or health concerns.  We wave to our neighbors and make small talk about the weather, not knowing they may have lost their job or are having problems with anger.  We attend church with people who greet us with “I’m fine” but are on the verge of tears because they feel alone or like a failure.  Even though our world looks larger by how many friends we have on Facebook, survey after survey has indicated that people feel more disconnected than ever.  The recent need to “socially distant” has likely heightened this sense of disconnection.  The “Kate Spades” around us have stories that need to be heard!

In my last post, I recognized how my own story has played out in my life.  This recognition has awakened a curiosity in me.  What are other people’s stories?  How do their stories shape them?  What can I learn from them?  This curiosity does not stem from nosiness or a desire to analyze a person’s behavior.  Instead, it has made me more empathetic towards others, less prone to judgment, and more apt to listen.  It has also made me ponder why so many of us avoid sharing our stories with others.  What fears hold us back from revealing the messiness of our life, and instead choose to suffer in silence?  What does a community need to look like to be safe for others to share their story?

For the last few years, I have struggled with feeling rejected by a person in my life.  This person, because of their position, has had the opportunity to speak encouragement and wisdom into my life.  Instead, I have felt ignored and devalued by their lack of interest or even acknowledgement of major accomplishments and trials in my life.  I have spent a lot of time in prayer and discussing the matter with a few trusted friends, trying to gain some healthy perspective on the situation.  I have asked myself hard questions.  Why do I feel a need for approval from this person?  Is it possible that I am just reading the situation wrong?  It finally reached a climax, and I was ready to confront this person, but God had a better plan.  Instead of confronting, God provided me with the opportunity to hear that person.  While listening, I realized, that they, too, have had a lot going on in their life.  This person was feeling stressed by multiple situations and completely spent emotionally, with little energy to give.  When I got a glimpse of their story, I instantly felt compassion.  All the energy I had invested in feeling rejected because they did not acknowledge my story was mitigated by hearing their story.When we know someone’s story, it allows us to be more forgiving of their shortcomings.  I am not saying that we give them a pass for bad behavior, or we ignore healthy boundaries in our life.  But I am saying that knowing someone’s story can diminish a perceived offense and give you a window into their soul.  It gives you an opportunity of being a light in their life.  We all have a desire to be known, and when we truly listen to another person’s story, we give them an opportunity to feel valued and heard!

Recently, my family had two new friends over for Sunday dinner.  Afterward, we sat down together and started talking.  Somehow the conversations moved from generic topics, like jobs and places we had lived, to sharing our stories.  Within a few hours, we had the privilege of hearing how God was working in the lives of these two people.  After my guests left, I felt in awe with what had transpired.  A simple Sunday meal turned into an opportunity for all of us to hear about God’s transforming power!

This Sunday dinner conversation was not something I had orchestrated, but I do believe my family and I did a few things to create an environment where open conversations could transpire.  First, we invited people into our home.  This simple act let our guests know that they were important enough to be included in our personal, everyday life.  Second, we were authentic and engaged.  We did not focus on the food or the table setting, but instead focused on getting to know our guests and making them feel comfortable and welcome.  Third, we listened and were careful with our interjections.  It is important when listening to a person’s story that we are careful to respond thoughtfully.  When sharing their stories, people are not looking for trite platitudes.  Instead, they are looking for someone to listen to them and validate their feelings.  Creating a community where people feel safe and connected is a key component for helping other share their stories.

One of my all-time favorite books is “Little Women”.  It is the story of the lives of four sisters.   Every time I read this book, I am struck by how much I learn from each of the characters.  Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy all have different personalities, strengths, and weaknesses.  Although they live in the same home with the same parents, they each have different stories.  At different points in my life, I have learned from Jo’s pride, Meg’s desire to feel included, Amy’s desire for nice things, and Beth’s acceptance of her fate.  As I learn and grow from books I read, I can also learn from the stories that other’s share.  Too often, I have thought about what I can bring to the conversation to support others.  Instead, I am realizing that what I can learn from their stories is just as important.  This desire to learn eliminates any pressure to have the right response.  Instead, it puts everyone on the same playing field, each with their own story of brokenness needing the intervention of the transforming power of God!

Our world is extremely divided: politically, socially, racially, and spiritually.  Our social media feeds are filled with vicious insults from all perspectives.  We have created new terms to define our differences like “the cancel culture.  Yet, I believe healing can happen if we, in part, learn to set aside our differences and be willing to listen to each other’s stories.  Everybody has a story, and I have the obligation, as it says in James 1:19, to “be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath.”  My prayer is that all of us everywhere learn to listen well.

“And ye shall eat in plenty, and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, that hath dealt wondrously with you.”

When I was five years old, I attempted to fly like Superman.  I have no recollection of ever watching Superman or reading the comic, but, somehow, I knew he could fly.  My Aunt Debbie, who I idolized as a child, jumped from the fifth step down to the landing in my grandparent’s farmhouse.  So, when she jumped, I just had to do what she did.  I remember her trying to convince me that it was a bad idea, reminding me that my grandparents had just gotten new carpet in the living room.  I didn’t heed her advice, told her I was going to fly like Superman, and jumped.  The next thing I remember was blood everywhere and my grandmother rushing me to the doctor’s office.   The resulting five stitches ended not only my attempts to fly, but any future attempts at risky behavior.

That incident may seem minor, but I realized the impact of it on my identity years later.  I have defined myself as “clumsy” at worst, or “not graceful” at best.  This identity was reinforced by my failure to complete a back somersault in gym class, breaking a few bones over the course of my life, and never mastering roller skating.  Furthermore, it has impacted choices I have made in my life.  I sometimes wonder, what if I had succeeded in that attempt to “fly”?  Would I have been more apt to try different activities, not fearful of getting hurt?  Would I have had been graceful enough to figure out how to roller skate?

We all have stories in our childhood that impact our lives, both positively and negatively.  Often, these stories shape our identity, self-confidence, and sense of security.  They often determine the things we care about, what drives our passions, what triggers anger and depression, and how we handle conflict.  Although these stories often have similar themes, how they impact us is not a mathematical equation that can be calculated.  Even within the same family, although people can live the same story, how the story affected each individual family member is as different as the fingerprints that identify us.

About six years ago, a young teenager was asking me about my childhood.  He specifically asked what made my childhood wonderful.  I was a bit startled and unable to formulate a response.  While I do have some good memories, I would not describe my overall childhood experience as wonderful.  A lot of the good memories were marred due to the secrets I was forced to keep.  I stumbled and said to the young man, “Honestly, I don’t have a lot of good memories, my childhood was not so great.”  My fifteen-year old daughter, who was sitting next to me, was a bit surprised and said, “Mom, you never told me that!”

 My daughter was right, I did not tell her anything about the negative parts of my childhood.  To protect my children from information that was too much for them to handle, I had come up with a general statement about my childhood that was truthful, but vague.  It was the right decision at that point.  Yet, the question about my childhood forced me to pray and reconsider this decision made years earlier.  I asked myself some hard questions.  What is my story?  Why share my story with my children?  What purpose would it serve in their lives?  Why bring up ugly, painful memories?  Why rehash ancient history?

I have always been rather vocal about my opinions.  In the last few years, I have gained some self-control by choosing not to share every opinion or thought that runs through my head.  Yet, there are a few subjects that still fire me up!  One of those subjects is related to history.  Like a cartoon character with steam coming out of her ears, I cringe when I hear, “I hate history and find it boring.”  I instantly want to get on my soapbox and extol the virtues of learning history.  Now, I recognize not everyone has been as privileged as me to have Mr. Bemis, Mr. St. Pierre and Dr. Bader as teachers who made history come alive through stories.  I know that, for some people, history has always been just a list of battles, dates, and rulers.  Yet, I feel passionate that history is not just ancient information, dusty and worn out.  History is an epic story filled with adventure, intrigue, plot twists, plagues, and romance.  Furthermore, I believe we can apply the lessons of history to our lives today.  We can learn from Neville Chamberlain that appeasement does not work and leads to harm.  We can learn from Abraham Lincoln to surround ourselves with people who have different opinions to help make us more effective leaders.  We can learn from Martin Luther King Jr. of the importance of taking a stand for equality.

Philosopher, George Santayana, once said, “Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”  I have often used this quote when I discuss the importance of history with others. I think an adaptation of this quote can be applied to our own individual stories.  It might not make the latest edition of Bartlett’s Quotations, but I believe that “those who are not aware of the stories that shape them are not likely to move towards wholeness with God.”  We need to be aware of our stories and recognize how they shape us.  We need to be aware where our lives are broken, allowing God to do a work of restoration in those broken places, moving us toward wholeness.  We then need to share with others the restoration work God is doing by sharing our stories.

So, in thinking about remembering my own “history” with my children, I thought it could illuminate the work God has done in my life, and in turn, in their life.  One evening, I sat down with them and shared my story.  I told them about the physical and emotional abuse that ensued in my home.  I spoke about the fourteen years of sexual abuse that I was forced by my stepfather to keep hidden.  I didn’t burden them with the gritty details, instead sticking to generalities.  But I did detail the restoration God did in my life starting with reporting my abuse to the police.   I shared with them about the three visitors I had in the hospital that impacted my life.  I described the incredible peace I felt when God filled me with His Spirit.  I shared how God redefined my distorted image of a father by observing their father, my husband, love his children unconditionally.  I shared how, over time, God has taken the broken parts of me, and lovingly repaired the damage, creating a masterpiece.  Although my story started off tragically, I closed by pointing my children to a God who is my Redeemer!!!

Both of my children were glad I had shared my story with them.  It helped fill in some blanks that they did not understand.  Furthermore, it gave them a greater understanding of who I was and what I had become with God’s hand on my life.  Finally, it serves as a reminder to them that there is always hope.  God can take any brokenness that they might experience and bring about restoration.

As a writer, I have the ability to self-edit as I write.  I might start with one story to illustrate a point and realize that the story doesn’t work, only to choose a better illustration.  When the reader sees the final product, they are unaware of how many times I have deleted a word, sentence or even a paragraph.  They only see the final product, the words I have penned.

The beginning of our story is often penned by others.  Our lives our shaped by events, people, and circumstances that we don’t have control over.  Unfortunately, we cannot hit backspace to delete the painful stories, erasing them from our memories.  We cannot create new characters that rescue us from the bad events penned by others, but we can rewrite our future stories.  We can allow God to speak into those painful places and restore what was lost.  We can allow God to rewrite our future, no longer allowing those beginning stories to define us negatively.

One of my favorite literary characters of all time is Jean Valjean of Victor Hugo’s “Les Misérables”.  It is a long book, but so worth the investment of time to read.  If the book is too daunting for you, I encourage you to listen to the dramatic adaptation from Focus on the Family Radio Theater.  Jean Valjean was born in France in poverty.  He was caught stealing bread for his starving sister and her children, sentenced to prison, and attempted to escape, resulting in a longer sentence.  When finally released, Valjean had to carry the stigma of being an ex-convict for the rest of his life.  Yet, a kind priest shows Valjean mercy which allows him to redefine himself for the rest of the book.  This is such a powerful depiction of God, who shows us mercy and offers to rewrite our story.  Just like Jean Valjean, we do not have to live with the stigma of our past.  Throughout the rest of the book, Jean Valjean wrestled with the effects of that stigma.  Yet, he did not let it define him, instead choosing to lead others to restoration from their own pasts.

In this post, I have shared a little about my story and the restoration work God has done.  I am still working on my book about this restoration that I hope to complete sometime in 2021.  A scripture that has inspired my book is found in Joel 2:25.  Joel prophesies to Israel that God “will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten, the cankerworm, and the caterpillar, and the palmerworm”.  He goes on to say in verse 26, “And ye shall eat in plenty, and be satisfied, and praise the name of the LORD, your God, that hath dealt wondrously with you”.  What is your story?  What events, people, or circumstances have shaped your life?  How has the stigma of your story affected your life and those you love?  What scenes or stories do you want to delete?  What areas do you need to allow God to restore so you can be satisfied and know that God has dealt wondrously in your life?  Spend some time thinking about this, write it down in a journal, share it with those you trust, and ask God to heal those places.  Remember, your story is important to you and to God!

“And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony;” Revelation 12:11

I have loved stories my whole life.  As a little girl, I read about Sam’s dislike of green eggs and ham and laughed at Curious George’s antics.  I pretended I was Laura, playing in the attic with my corn cob doll while Pa played his fiddle.  I searched desperately for a magic wardrobe so that I could enter Narnia and meet Aslan.  I looked for Charlotte in every spiderweb and wished I could float down a chocolate river with the Oompa-Loompas.  As a parent, I shared my love of stories with my children, making frequent trips to the library, returning with piles of books.  We giggled at Pooh’s simple brain, traveled around the world with Phileas Fogg, solved mysteries with Frank, Joe, and Nancy, and fought dragons with Bilbo Baggins.  As an adult, I still love stories, cheering with Emma when she finds her Mr. Knightly, hoping Jean Valjean is vindicated, chuckling at Don Quixote’s assumptions, and hoping Frodo finishes his quest.

The love of stories transcends all cultures, ages, and times, capturing the hearts of people everywhere.  Heroes and heroines fill our imaginations with hope and awaken in us the desire for adventure and significance.  Even cultures with no written language have oral traditions rich with stories.  What is even more amazing is how often similar themes of stories exist among different cultures.  For example, the story of Cinderella, as depicted by Disney, is based on the Western European version written by the Grimm brothers.  When my daughter was little, we discovered Native American, Korean, and Indian versions of the same story, written by different authors in different places and times.

Even the various authors of the Bible, inspired by God, wrote large portions of the Bible in the form of stories.  We learn about the plight of all humans in the Garden of Eden.  We see the rescue of a baby boy by an Egyptian princess, only to see him grow up to challenge Pharaoh.  We see the redemption of a faithful daughter-in-law.  We watch David start off as a shepherd playing a harp, grow into a young man who defeats a giant and later a king with a rebellious son.  As the Old Testament continues, kingdoms rise and fall with various rulers and prophets playing lead roles.  In the New Testament, three gospels recount the story of a simple carpenter and his teenage fiancé giving birth in a dirty stable to the Savior of the whole world, Jesus.  Miracles happen throughout Jesus’ ministry with the biggest miracle unfolding in his death and subsequent resurrection.  Shipwrecks, poisonous snakes, and jail breaks due to worship service are a few of the stories we read in the book of Acts, as different people are changed by the Holy Ghost, later becoming disciples of God.  The Bible ends with an exiled disciple’s vision of fantastical beasts, battles, and the end of the natural world.

We cannot forget that God had an overarching theme to the whole Bible, all the stories are part of a bigger picture, the story of God.  It tells about His creation, humanity’s fall, His redemption, and His restoration: the metanarrative of the whole Bible.  God cares about stories!  More importantly, He cares about the parts each of us play in His story.

Over the course of four years, I read biographies of each of our presidents.  These were men who shaped policy and the direction in America.  It was an incredible scope of American history seen through the stories of these men’s lives.  But more than just American history, these were the stories of the events that shaped them as men.  For example, Teddy Roosevelt was devastated when he lost his first wife and mother in the same day.  He disappeared from the political landscape for a few years.  Yet during this time of escape in the Badlands, he rekindled his love of the outdoors, along with a renewed sense of purpose, eventually leading him to the presidency.  As a young man, Harry Truman, worked for his Jewish neighbors while they practiced their Sabbath.  This later influenced his decision to recognize Israel as an independent nation.  These stories, and many more, changed my own perspective on the presidency.  It helped me to see them as ordinary men, like you and I, who had extraordinary opportunities to do great things.

Like these men, we all have stories, stories that have power in our lives.  These stories shape and mold us into the people we are.  They define our passions, determine our strengths, push our fear buttons, trigger our anger, and sometimes hold us captive.  In the past few years, my husband and I have spent some time understanding our own individual stories and each other’s.  Sometimes, this work was hard, exposing character flaws and leaving us feeling vulnerable.  Yet, this understanding has led to healing and wholeness that we needed individually and in our marriage.  Furthermore, it has helped me overcome destructive habits and patterns in my life.  In Revelations 12:11, the Bible states, “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony.”  Knowing my story helps me overcome!!!

Over the next three posts, I am going to explore the power of stories through the following topics:

I. The importance of knowing your story, as well as how it impacts you and your relationships with others

II. The importance of acknowledging that others have a story.  This acknowledgement frees us from judgmental attitudes and increases our empathy towards others.  I hope to explore the importance of creating communities that are safe for people to share their stories

III. The importance of relating your story in the context of God’s story.  Our lives are so much larger than the few years we live on this earth.  We have the power to impact others by reflecting Christ in our lives

The following quote from Christian therapist and author, Dan Allender, sums up what I hope to convey in these upcoming posts.  In his book, “To Be Told: Know Your Story, Shape Your Future”, Allender says, “So take seriously the story that God has given you to live.  It’s time to read your own life, because your story is the one that could set us all ablaze.”

Yes, “reading your own life” can be hard work, akin to reading Leo Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” and deciphering the many Russian character names.  Yes, it can leave you feeling vulnerable, like Louis Zamperini did in the Japanese POW camp in “Unbroken.”  But it can also result in finding a treasure beyond imagination like Mary did in the “The Secret Garden” or Oliver did in “Oliver Twist.”

“Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.” Ephesians 3:20

Fall has arrived, arraying the trees with reds, yellows, and oranges, while fields turn golden as harvest is nearing completion.  My favorite farmer’s markets are filled with pumpkins, squash, and apples.  Ingredients for soups and chili fill my pantry shelves.  My heart echoes the same sentiments of Anne in L. M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”

Although I appreciate all the seasons, autumn is my absolute favorite.  I have fond memories of going to Waldo Apple Orchard as a child and eating a caramel apple.  I love hiking, hearing the crunch as I step joyously through the leaves.  I love wearing warm, cozy clothing and sipping mulled apple cider.  It stands to reason that I also love to decorate my home for fall.

My fall decorating started off very humbly.  Having a limited budget, I started with a homemade leaf garland.  My husband and I cut out hundreds of leaves in different fall shades of construction paper.  We then misted them with water, crumpled them and let them dry.  After attaching them to twine, the leaf garlands graced our home.  For years, this was our only fall decoration.

Then I discovered Hobby Lobby.  As I had more disposable income, slowly I started adding to my fall decorations.  This included a more elaborate leaf garland, some fall signs and even a few critters.  I continued to make some of my own decorations, including a thankful tree and a short acorn garland to hang above my kitchen sink.  My fall décor collection now fills two large storage crates.  Every year, shortly after Labor Day, my home transitions into autumn while “Punky Pumpkin” by Rosemary Clooney plays.  When its all done, I sigh deeply, ready to embrace the cooler weather and my fall traditions.

For the past few years, I have attempted, unsuccessfully, to decorate my front porch.  To be honest, my “porch” is not really a porch at all but just a small slab of cement in front of my door, lacking any curb appeal.  In summer, I typically have a few flowerpots greeting guests as they enter my home.  As the weather cools, I place a few pumpkins and mums on my front porch to create a fall ambience.   For some reason, my fall ambience seems to fall flat.  Being a bit spatially challenged, my pumpkins and gourds are either too small or too few and my mums are too low or wither quickly because I forget to water them.

This year, I decided to go big.  Instead of grocery store mums, I went out to a local Mennonite market and purchased two large pots of bright yellow and wine-colored mums.  I then went to my favorite farm stand for pumpkins.  It is such a great time to be alive, where we are no longer limited to only traditional orange pumpkins!  Now, they come in all shades, including white, green, gray and my favorite “warty pink”!  I gathered a few pumpkins and gourds and headed home.  As I started decorating the porch with my treasures, I realized something was still missing.  A week later, I made a second trip, purchasing more pumpkins along with a small hay bale.  As I loaded them in the car, I realized I might have gone a tad bit overboard.  In jest, I sent my husband a text saying, “Remember how much you love me.”  After unloading the stash and rearranging my porch, I realized I needed one more small orange pumpkin to make it complete.  So, I made one more trip, grabbing the last pumpkin (or two), to complete my porch display.

When all was said and done, I somehow ended up with thirteen pumpkins and gourds on my small porch.  I won’t tell you how many fake pumpkins are inside my home or you might start to think I have a problem.  Now, I know the current philosophy is “less is more”.  There are books written about the concept of minimalism along with new vocabulary like “Konmari Method” and “Capsule wardrobe”, encouraging us to be mindful of how much stuff we have.  In fact, the opposite of minimalism is looked down upon.  We have reality shows depicting the shocking lives of hoarders!  Thrift, resale, and vintage stores abound, helping us to get rid of our excess “stuff”.  Even restaurant menus and food labels are embracing the concept of simplicity with emphasis on fewer but better ingredients.

Even as a Christian, we are encouraged to live in moderation.  Paul challenges Christians in Philippians 4:5 by saying, “Let your moderation be known unto all men.”  He also says in Galatians 5:23 that temperance is one of the fruits of the spirit.  Temperance is defined as self-control, and no one could argue that a hoarder is modeling that fruit of the spirit.  In 1 Timothy 6:6, God also encourages us to live in contentment by linking it to godliness, concluding that we will have great gain.  The scripture continues in verse seven with Paul’s words, “For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.”  This implies that we must be careful not to attach ourselves to “stuff”.  God clearly wants us to avoid materialism!

For the Christian, the contrast to materialism is living an abundant life. Jesus told a crowd of Pharisees in John 10:10, “…I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly”.  Paul reiterates Jesus’ words in Ephesians 3:20, “Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.”  Jesus came so that we can live an abundant life.  This life is not measured in possessions or status, but rather an abundance of love, peace, joy, and hope.  We can show unconditional love to others, not because we are self-righteous, but because God has shown us love.  We can have abundant peace in our relationships, not through the absence of conflict, but because we know that God will work it all out for our good.  We can have joy overflowing in all situations, not through a lack of sadness, but joy in knowing that God has it all under control.  We can have abundant hope in desperate situations, not by being eternal optimists, but because our hope is not in this world but in heaven to come.

My sweet mother-in-law had a dismal view of fall, she saw it as a season of dying.  She dreaded the cold Illinois winters, and saw the changing of leaves as the first indication that winter was on its way.  I always found her perspective a little sad and depressing.  From my perspective, fall is the opposite of dying.  It is the time to celebrate the abundance of our natural world though harvest and the plethora of colors on display. The fruit of the harvest spilling from the cornucopia, the horn of plenty, depicts the season so well!  Furthermore, fall climaxes with Thanksgiving when we acknowledge all of God’s blessings at a meal with family and friends.  I may have gone a little overboard with my pumpkins this year, but maybe, just maybe, it is a reminder to us all of God’s desire for us to live in abundance!

“Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the Lord, and depart from evil.”

Proverbs 3:7

I love houseplants despite my thumb being a shade of not-quite green.  I do manage to keep flowers alive on my patio, although they are never quite as vibrant as those of my neighbors.  A few years ago, I started adding foliage as décor in my home, one by one, with reasonable success.  Instead of the traditional flower bouquet for Valentine’s Day, I received a big floor plant that I had been longing for, quickly naming it “Phoebe” (my daughter and I have a habit of naming birds, squirrels, ducks, plants, etc.)!  Feeling confident in my ability to care for it, I bought an English ivy.  I found a cheerful yellow pot on clearance, envisioning my ivy, properly named “George”, spilling over the sides.  I carefully transplanted it, set it near the window and watered it faithfully.  Over the next three months, “George” slowly withered and died a painful death, after dropping all its leaves, one by one.  I was so hopeful each time I watered it until the last few brittle leaves took the plunge.

Disheartened, I went to my favorite local greenhouse, searching for a new plant to fill my now empty pot.  Finding something I thought would work, I brought it to the counter, inquiring of the young clerk how big it would get and described the yellow pot in which I intended to put it.  Then I made the mistake of telling her about “George”.

She seemed genuinely baffled.  “You killed an ivy?  They are really easy to grow, in fact they grow on the sides of buildings.  Did you water it, and how much?”  When I told her my approximate measurement of water, she replied, “Are you sure, was it near a window?”  Again, I responded favorably, and then she said, “I have never heard of anyone killing an ivy!”  Sheepishly, I handed her the new plant I now wondered if she would allow me to purchase.  She admonished, “This plant needs a lot of TLC, I’m surprised they are still in the greenhouse, I thought the owner was going to remove them.  This plant really needs a lot of TLC!”  The implication was clear: she didn’t trust my skills or ability to care for this plant!  I muttered that I would be careful, listened to her advice, and walked out with the plant.

Although I felt a little demeaned by the clerk, her questions were legitimate.  Being a plant expert, she was trying to troubleshoot my problem.  Instead of letting her questions derail me, I listened carefully to her suggestions for caring for this new plant.  I even bought a different soil mix she recommended to ensure the plant’s growth.  After a few weeks, it is starting to perk up and flourish!

To be honest, a few years ago, I would have been annoyed with the clerk’s response and likely have ignored her advice.  At the time, I would have let my pride hinder me from further learning and growth.  In my twenties and early thirties, I actively sought information to improve my marriage, parenting skills, and knowledge in God.  I listened to radio programs and discussed principles with friends.  I recognized I was young and needed the wisdom of others to help me grow.  As I grew older, I eventually formed some core philosophies and principles and became locked into my beliefs.  And then I made a mistake: I sought out sources that only supported my way of thinking and agreed with my ideas.  Letting pride creep in, I ignored anything that might challenge my way of thinking.

Anyone who owns a front-loading washer knows the challenges of preventing mildew from growing on the rubber seal.  After every use, I must dry the seal and door carefully, leaving the door of the washer open for twenty-four hours.  I also clean the machine with a special product monthly.  I stay on top of these tasks because, if I slip up, mildew will not only form but grow, eventually ruining my washer and clothes.  Like mildew, once pride creeps in, it starts to grow.  It clouds your vision and keeps you from recognizing your weaknesses.  It leads to sin, and it can destroy relationships and hinder potential.  It permeates every area of your life!  Caleb Holmgren, my good friend’s 23-year-old son, said it best in his vernacular, “Pride sucks. It keeps me from admitting when I’m wrong, and hinders me from reaching out for help as well…”

My pride stopped me from growing.  I became judgmental of others’ shortcomings, elevating myself in my own mind.  Outwardly, I acted humble, but inwardly I thought my principles were not only the right way to live life, but the only way!  I stopped seeking wisdom for my marriage, parenting, and my life, in general.  I became stagnant and arrogant in my way of thinking.

Then a series of events happened that crushed my pride.  Problems arose in my marriage and I started to see flaws in how I had parented.  I was faced with the ugly truth; I had relied on my own knowledge instead of God’s.  I had chosen to direct my own path, instead of realistically evaluating my own lack of skill.  I basked in the glow of my so-called “perfect life”, ignoring signs indicating that something was wrong.  One morning, feeling completely broken, I felt God was revealing that pride was at the root of my sin.

Generally, I have seen two responses when pride is brought to light.  The first response is to remain prideful, either by persisting with an arrogant attitude, or living in shame.  This paralyzes you from dealing with the problems.  The second response is to be contrite, admit your sin, and take full responsibility for it.  On that morning, it was only by the grace of God that I chose the second response when faced with the revelation of my sin.  I swallowed my pride, examined my heart, spent some time in repentance, and made a lot of apologies to those I had wronged.

Pride is a common theme throughout the Bible.  It is a major character flaw in both antagonists and protagonists in the Bible, including Saul and Hezekiah.  In the New Testament, both James and Peter state, “God resisteth the proud.”  God also makes an interesting contrast related to pride.  In Proverbs 8:13, Solomon says, “The fear of the Lord is to hate evil: pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way and the froward mouth do I hate.”  Based on the way this verse is punctuated, one half of the things that God thinks are evil are related to pride.  Both pride and arrogance, although they are different words, are rooted in the same Hebrew word “ga’ah”, which means “to be exalted in triumph.”  The fear of the Lord is to hate exalting ourselves.

God not only revealed to Solomon what the fear of the Lord hated, but also what the fear of the Lord looked like in practice.  He remarks in Proverbs 9:10, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”  He continues in Proverbs 13:10, “Only by pride cometh contention: but with the well advised is wisdom.”  God contrasts exalting oneself and relying on your own opinions with being well-advised by others in the pursuit of wisdom.

It follows that one of the keys in developing wisdom is to be well-advised.  So, one of the steps I have taken to prevent the “mildew” of pride from spreading further in my life is to be well-advised.  First, I have made studying the Bible a priority.  God’s word can magnify my prideful attitudes and show me examples of how to remain in a posture of humility.  In addition to the Bible, I have spent the last two years reading some books that address marriage, parenting adult children, and growing as a woman of God.  I have also listened to podcasts, paid attention to sermons that have pricked my heart and have talked over some of my problems with people who could speak wisdom into my situation.  I have actively chosen to be well-advised!

One of the most popular passages every Christian memorizes is Proverbs 3:5-6, where it says, “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”  Recently, I heard someone say that this was their life verse.  Verse seven, which is less quoted but just as important, continues, “Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil.”  Again, God is contrasting wisdom with pride.  In writing this post, I have decided to make this plant in my yellow pot a prayerful reminder to me. This is my prayer:

God, I am so grateful that You revealed my prideful attitude and Your kindness led me to repentance.  Help me to continue to fear You by seeking Your wisdom.  Challenge me on a regular basis to grow in wisdom through Your Word, sermons, books, and podcasts.  Let the wisdom of the well-advised transform my way of thinking to align me with Your way of thinking.  God, as this plant flourishes and grows, let it always remind me to remain humble in Your eyes.  In Jesus’ name, Amen!