Jesus is your victory. Your victory and your destiny. You are secure.
Because it is: Won and done. (Let these words take root in your mind when you forget)
Jesus won, is winning and will win. Period. Always. Forever. And on and on…for always.
If everything is against you, Jesus wins. Won and done. If you see death to cancer. Won and done. One day, you’ll be healed on earth or in heaven as your every tear is wiped away.
If your husband left you. Won and done. Jesus will be right next to you, never leaving your side, while leading you to his best thing.
If you get every door slammed in your face. Won and done.God will be your defender and restorer. Nothing gets by him.
If you can’t see out of depression. Won and done. In God’s presence there is fullness of joy.
If you are hated. Won and done. Jesus loves you and will fill the deep desires of your heart.
If pain overwhelms you. Won and done. Greater is God’s love than the substance of anything in this world.
Always, Jesus wins. Won and done. Always. Always. Always. Honor God by returning to this truth, in every case, at all times, in every way. Don’t delay.
He won for you and his victory is done.
“For those who honor me, I will honor.” 1 Sam 2:30
A couple weeks ago we left our house to prepare for Hurricane Irma. There were so many moving parts. We had no idea when school would resume. My husband needed to take a business trip. The storm had no real direction, and we had people telling us to leave and which houses we could live at. A million decisions were thrown up in the air, with a storm barreling towards us.
And so many worries…would our car be okay? Would our place get flooded? Would our life ever return to normal? Would power take months to go back on? Would schools ever start up again? How could I get my manuscript done for the next week with a hard deadline on my shoulders?
Add to the ride screaming kids, a phone that was blowing up with texts, bad news after bad news and it all could add up to: too much.
My husband looked at me and said, “Kelly, we need to take things one day at a time.”
These words released me from the burden of knowing it all. They spoke to me: Kelly, it is okay to be where you are today. Just stick here, in today. . .you can figure out the rest later.
Inhale. Exhale. God has this.
Where do you need to “take things one day at a time?” How might keeping your thoughts in today prevent you from rushing into quick, sandy thoughts of tomorrow? Thoughts that want to sink you emotionally?
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Mt. 6:34
What we have here, in this moment, is what God works with. It is what he impacts, as we trust him. It is what we feel peace with, as we address it. It is what calms us, as we know we did our part. It is what sets us free from overwhelming and heartbreaking worry.
Let it go. You have full permission, today, to take things one day at a time.
Recently while playing back a Facebook live video I discovered an ugly truth…
I don’t have a chin in my profile view unless I smile.
I stumble when searching for the right words to say.
And I forget to look and mention each person that tuned in—how rude!
As I watch the video again, I think, I should have done better. Silently I resolve never to do another Facebook live video.
The ugly truth? Gasp—It wasn’t perfect. The realization? Ugh, I’m a perfectionist.
Perfectionist: A person who demands perfection of him or herself.
A couple of years ago I would have never called myself out as being a perfectionist because to me, a perfectionist is someone who has to make everything perfect—meaning they accomplish the task. Since I knew I couldn’t make everything just so, I surmised I didn’t fit this description.
But I was wrong.
I do try to make everything perfect but it’s according to my own standards. And I set them pretty high then I beat myself up when I don’t measure up. This often leaves me feeling like I’m good enough.
And that’s sad.
This idea that I shouldn’t ever make a mistake—mess things up, well, it’s paralyzed me and boxed me in for years. It’s kept me from trying new things, from moving forward, from chasing my dreams.
Have you ever felt like this, even partially? If you have and you are like me, you probably don’t know where this need for doing things flawlessly originates.
I believe perfectionism is a scheme of the devil. Another kill, steal and destroy game plan.
It kills our drive. It steals our joy. It destroys our dreams
Satan feeds us lies to keep us stuck. Because when we hold ourselves to this unreachable standard we keep ourselves from taking a next step—from learning.
By God’s divine design we learn by making mistakes—trial and error. If we are scared of goofing up how can be ever move ahead to the great things God has planned for us—our divine destiny—our God-given purpose?
But there is hope. It’s called grace.
And grace looks like Jesus—God’s greatest gift to us.
I am good enough and you are good enough because Jesus was good enough to be the perfect sacrifice for us. Because Jesus took our place on the cross we’ve been made perfect in God’s eyes. No more striving. It’s already been taken care of. By God’s grace it’s been done.
“For by grace you have been saved though faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” Ephesians 2:8 (ESV)
His grace allows us the freedom to be all He intended us to be.
And though I now intellectually know this, I‘ve believed the lies so long its been a slow recovery. But I am recovering. You too?
So let us perfectionist types forge our way forward bravely running head on into mess-ups, blunders, goofs and mistakes, allowing God to refine us through each one. Knowing and believing that as His children, He sees as not only good enough but priceless, blameless and beyond compare. Already perfect.
So give yourself a little grace. God has.
Christy is an award winning writer, national speaker, wife, mother, mother-in-law, and first time grandma! She is passionate about helping women see God working for their good in the midst of their circumstances.
When Christy isn’t with family, speaking or writing, you can find her on the tennis court chasing a fuzzy yellow ball.
You can connect with Christy on her blog, Joying in the Journey, Facebook, and Twitter
I was shocked when I got the email. My friend, Jackie, said, “We really need to pray for Jennifer.”
I wasn’t shocked she said we needed to pray; this I was fully aware of. I already knew Jennifer was headed toward dangerous, murky no-return waters. What shocked me was Jackie, one I considered maybe-connected to God, was telling me to pray.
And she busted me. I wasn’t praying a lick. Instead, I was tossing up my arms, doing nothing and giving God no chance to change a single thing.
It was Jackie, the maybe-connected-one-to-God who was praying. I was just sitting there.
Guilt dropped on me like a hammer. And so did the remembrance of many other things I didn’t do. . .
Like following through with a friend who came to church with me. I never made time to return to her house with love and the right words after that day.
Or being present for a friend dealing with a life near breakdown. I was too caught up in my own movements.
Or making the regular phone calls to the friends I know who are struggling in their marriages. I only saw my life.
Or taking a mom I met at my child’s school for coffee, like God prompted me to. I got distracted with other things.
Or making the time to meet with the people God placed around me for a time of impact, such as now. I forgot about them.
When we only see our world, we miss God’s world. The one he intentionally set before us – for impact. We miss his higher calling.
God’s higher callings feel like taking a lower road. They feel like setting aside our stuff. They feel like remembering the least of these. They feel like doing something when you’re tired. They feel like acting, anyway.
What higher calling might God be setting before you, where you have to take the lower road?
There is no day better than the present day to move on what he’s set before you. Move, so one day, like me, you don’t look back and say, “Sorry God, I forgot to do so much.”
“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Gal. 6:9
Two shadows appeared. One was a small, old, hunched over man with a cane and the other a young and vibrant woman with a flowery dress.
Sitting, they leaned in toward each other and talked. A father and daughter?
All I could think as I noticed this man’s feeble body, his leaning body on that old war memorial was, “He must be telling her about a life that counted.”
He’s saying, “Sure, I paid a mental price, seeing all that war stuff, seeing people fall. The battles, the pain, the sacrifice. But when push comes to shove, I gave my all. My life. I offered up what mattered.”
Only a few minutes later, I saw the “Vietnam War Veteran” pin on his cap. I wanted to remember this man, because without saying a word, he delivered to my heart a message from God: Kelly, if you give it all up for me, you won’t look back and regret your life. You’ll sit on a memorial of what I did and rejoice over it.
I asked the man if I could take his photo. And I did. But after, he couldn’t get up. His hands wouldn’t support his weight. When I reached out my hand, he looked hesitant at the thought of grabbing it, but he did.
“Pull hard,” he said. I gave it my all. And all I could think as I pulled up the strength of this man, who was so weak, was how Christ gave it all. And how, at the right time, his broken body beat the ravages of earth to reign in heaven.
Jesus gave his everything to bring us all life and hope. Jesus paid it all so we could sit under the shadow of that memorial cross. Jesus gave it all so that we could end our lives, knowing all will end up being okay as we leave this earth. Jesus paid it all so we could accept a helping hand on the days we feel weak. Jesus paid it all so we wouldn’t have to kill ourselves by pretending we are strong, when we actually are weak.
Jesus fought for and bought our freedom. He won.
And he is winning today. He is winning whatever war you face. He’s behind you. He’s in front of you. He’s your future. He is your life. He is your answer. He is the beginning of your new thing. He is your help.
Live for him in a way so when you get to that memorial of your life and you look back, you’ll say, “With Jesus, I gave my all. In him, I fully believed.”
When my mom was sick a couple of years ago a palliative care doctor was assigned to her case.
Palliative care is the multidisciplinary approach to specialized medical care for people with life-limiting illnesses, focussing on providing relief from pain and physical and mental stress of the terminally ill patient and their family.
But Dr. Robinson was more than that.
Though she was first trained in neurology it was obvious her heartbeat was in palliative care. I could tell early on she was gifted from God for this vocation because she gained my sister’s trust which is nearly impossible to do.
Dr Robinson naturally doled out comfort, concern and love in the most difficult of situations. She was warm and caring like the favorite blanket you want to wrap up in on a cold, raw day. And raw was a good description for the way my sister and I felt in the days leading up to Mom’s death.
Dr. R. took time to know each of us. We exchanged business cards. She even said she would read my blog and to my surprise she actually did.
After my mom’s death I wrote a post on advanced directives, I re-titled: Love to Perfection, Leave Direction. You see, a lot of our emotional trauma in those last days came from the fact we didn’t know what my mom wanted and she could’t tell us. She had always talked about a living will but neither my sister nor I could remember her writing it up or where it would have been placed if she had. After reading my post Dr. Robinson asked if she could share my blog with her colleagues to help them understand what families go through. I, of course, said yes. Goodness, what blogger wouldn’t want a few more clicks on their site?
A couple of weeks ago my phone rang. I let it go to voicemail when I didn’t recognized the number. When I listened to the message I heard the kind, soft-spoken voice of Dr Robinson. I was touched. I returned her call and we chatted. She asked how I was and about each of my siblings. Then she told me something that floored me.
As the need for palliative care has taken root, over the last year and a half Dr R. has traveled literally around the world (even Russia) delivering lectures and instructing doctors on the intricacies of her vocation. But that’s not what gave me goosebumps, after all that’s her heart. But what she said next, did.
She told me she had been taking the words from my post and using them in her seminars around the globe.
In a world where quotas matter, to-do lists keep us running and one more click to your website is paramount, her words spoke like a prophetic message straight from God.
Numbers don’t count, only people do.
So why do you do what you do? To be liked? To stay competitive? To get it done? Get ahead? Or for the sheer joy of being in your gifting and bringing glory to God however He sees fit?
And what do I want? More numbers to my website or more hearts equipped and trained to love those in need?
I have no doubt God orchestrated my meeting of Dr Robinson in December of 2015. That’s the kind of God we serve. While I was thinking about possibly raising numbers God was thinking about possibly touching hearts.
Perhaps we get too caught up in what people expect from us rather than what God wants to do through us.
Work out our purpose.
Because it is in living out our purpose we find true joy. And I’ll have to say, on this day, I found it.
Loading InLinkz ...
About Christy Mobley
Christy is an award winning writer, national speaker, wife, mother, mother-in-law, and first time grandma! She is passionate about helping women see God working for their good in the midst of their circumstances.
When Christy isn’t with family, speaking or writing, you can find her on the tennis court chasing a fuzzy yellow ball. You can connect with Christy on her blog, Joying in the Journey, Facebook, and Twitter
When the box arrived, he immediately tore it open, throwing pieces of tape behind him. It was the gift he’d saved up for after setting up summer lemonade stands, selling books online and doing odd chores around the house. I couldn’t be happier for him. Joy oozed out of him.
He pulled the metal detector out and held it high, seemingly admiring the little switches, dials and sounds it made. Now he could search for hidden treasure in the lawn. And that’s just what he did. He searched. Like a lawnmower, he went back and forth in precise lines…making sure not to miss a blade of grass. He worked so hard.
But he wasn’t finding anything. Nothing.
My heart sank.
He pressed on. He wasn’t going to give up. He even pointed to the other large lawn across the street and asked if we could go there. I motioned for him to finish up on this strip, before moving on to the next. Head down, he kept working at it. Nothing.
Wanting good things for him so badly and to reward his work, I had an idea. I snuck my hand into my purse, opened my wallet, grabbed a quarter and threw it onto the grass.
My son, pursued finding “treasure” with such heart, diligence and perseverance…I couldn’t help but secretly reward him.
“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” (Mt 7:7-8)
I can’t help but think, just as I couldn’t help but reward my searching son, God rewards our search too.
We keep asking…we get.
We keep seeking…we find.
We keep knowing…the door is opened to us.
God secretly drops a blessing right along our path, because he loves us. He sees us doing our part by faith, and he rewards us. It is not because we deserve it or because we earned it, but simply because he is good. He is a good daddy.
He sees our persistence. He sees our pursuit. He sees our dreams. He sees our hopes. He sees our desires. He sees our life. He sees our joys. He sees our pain. He sees how we drop down at his feet or ask him for help again and again and he doesn’t push us off or tell us we whine too much. Instead, he notices how we seek him as if he is our greatest treasure. Then, undeservingly, we dig up something amazing. Something that is just what we wanted. He does it in just the right way.
Because he knows us, we are his daughters. He is a good daddy.
First, we want to acknowledge that you do not exist. You never can, nor will you ever exist. We are sorry to tell you this, but your mission is 100% impossible and we regret to inform you it is one God never called you to.
We also want to encourage you, finally, to let your shoulders relax. You can let down your guard. You can stop pretending you’re a whole lot better than you look. You can let go of the messy drawers, the bad habits, the quick responses and stop beating yourself over the head with a self-improvement plan that never seems to work. You can inhale, let your stomach fill and then exhale.
You can rest. Finally, you can rest. You can find a daddy God who doesn’t look at you for what you can do, but who you are in him. You can see him want to be near to you. You can see him approach you with the fullness of love.
He wants you, even when you don’t want to see the horrible things you’ve done.
Breathe deep. Again.
There is peace for you. Even when you are face-to-face with a horrible, ugly, unwanted failure. Still, there is peace, love and hope. Acceptance of failure is freedom.
I am writing you today with an invitation to let in- the love you hold at an arms-length. The love your always-unmet achievements declare you unworthy of. The love you keep away lest it make you feel needy. The love that will change you.
Today, let in…Christ. Let love in to a greater capacity.
What Jesus did covers what you don’t do. What he did washes away the blame that sticks. What he did marks you blameless. What he did removes the status of “wholly unworthy” and leaves you with an identity of holy.
This status reminds you: you will mess up, but God never gives up on you.
Return here, to this reminder. It is your rest. He wants you, not your work. He wants your heart. Let him have it. Let it be immersed in the Living Water. Let it splash around, dance, have fun, be free and enjoy the goodness of him who loves you.
“He gives strength to the weary, and to him who lacks might He increases power.” (Is. 40:29)
When I read these verses, do you know what I think?
I think: That’s great He does all that – for them.
It’s great that he cares for the weary people who have cancer, or the poor people in India or the single mom in Detroit. He is SO loving to all them. But, I never apply God’s Word to me…
…even though I fall entirely in this camp. I am weary from packing up my whole house and carting boxes all the way to a new state. I am weak from trying to sell off my whole house and I am lacking might in the kindness department as night gives way to another night of no sleep.
But, I hardly count myself like them. I hardly place myself in the camp of the needy and poor people who should get God’s best.
“Blessed are those who have regard for the weak;
the Lord delivers them in times of trouble.” (Ps. 41:1)
What about you? Do you regard yourself?
Do you easily admit you are:
What strikes me is that when we admit these things, we receive strength and power. It’s what this scripture says will happen. But, part of it happening is allowing it to happen.
You know, we can stop it from happening…
I’ve never been able to shove a popsicle in a kid’s mouth who didn’t want it. Nor have I been able to make my husband accept time of rest when he didn’t want it. Nor have I been able to fully feel God’s love when I didn’t make time for it.
David, the man who wrote this Psalm, even said, “Have mercy on me, Lord, heal me, for I have sinned against you” and “Even my close friend, someone I trusted…has turned[ against me.” (Ps. 41:9)
He admitted his gunk. What’s yours?
Psalm 41 says God:
– does not give people “over to the desire of their foes”
– restores those who are weary and lacking.
We climbed the train, tucked away our luggage for the long haul, then headed to the lounge where we got some waters and drinks. Relaxation time! Well, not so much. The kids were nuts. They tackled each other on the booth cushions and screamed like animals at a wrestling match. I eyed the woman staring at me to the left. I glanced down the row at a man who couldn’t keep his eyes off them. I motioned to my husband, “It’s time to go.” But what came next shocked me.
As we headed out, the woman with a pixie haircut and eyes that didn’t quite catch you straight stared a bit beyond me and said, “You have beautiful kids. We love watching them.”
I was shocked. You love them?
She went on to tell my family and I that we shouldn’t leave the lounge. And if we did, we should return soon.
And with this thought, I began wondering how often I suppose women hate me when they actually: A.) Want to get to know me B.) Are intrigued by me or, C.) Are looking my way, yet not even thinking about me?
Recently, I learned about the Spotlight Effect. It means the vast majority of the time you think people are critiquing, watching or condemning you, they aren’t. They’re likely thinking about themselves and what they are wearing, doing or saying. They’re caught up in their own spotlight.
To boil this down further, it means people are quite often thinking about themselves. And when they aren’t, they are thinking about what you are thinking about them.
Everyone is wrapped up in their own world.
So, those women who I think hate me?
They’ve probably moved on to pondering who hates them.
The person I offended, who I am convinced constantly tracks it?
She’s probably wondering why she doesn’t …blah…blah…blah…
The girl I was a terrible boss to years ago?
She’s probably just concerned with doing a good job at her work, today.
What if we let go of the pressure of what everyone else is thinking? What if we let go of the burden of owning other’s contentment? What if we just let our goal be to please God and seek him, plain and simple?
What if we let go of everyone’s load? Because it pains us to carry it.
“For each one should carry their own load.” (Gal. 6:5)