My husband and I decided, after I returned to the car from grabbing coffee inside a busy supermarket, the answer to this question is the difference between peace and panic.
We pondered this thought because he’d literally just placed himself in a position of worry. You see, while I was inside procuring two grande Americano’s, he could have chosen to wait in a peaceful low-stress parking spot, however he didn’t. Instead, he drove his car right up to the front lane and waited right where all the traffic was. Sure, he pulled to the side and put on his hazard lights, but, by doing this, he put centered himself in a lane of stress, worry and anxiety.
The whole time he fretted: I don’t want to be in anyone’s way. I don’t want to cause any issues. I don’t want to annoy people.
In his haste to be efficient, he had wasted precious moments of peace. How often do we do the same thing? How often do we place ourself – front and center – right into a position of worry?
Recently, I’ve been waking up, putting the final touches on my blog post and sending it out. Usually, no more than 1 minute after I press send on the blog post – a kid wakes up. Then, I stress.
Because of my distraction, I missed connection with God. I was rushed. I’m angry at myself.
Day-in and day-out, though, I do the same thing.
Why am I putting myself in a position of worry?
Why am I repeatedly subjecting myself to the same outcome?
I can make a change. I can decide to take 10 extra minutes at night to do what the morning is stealing away from God. I can choose to place myself, not in the center of worry, but in a place of peace. You can too.
Creating a place of peace is:
Considering what to reschedule to make more time for your kids.
Relaxing your mind in prayer instead of regurgitating your ongoing mistakes.
Choosing to speak less rather than speaking in a way that hurts a loved one.
Deciding to stop ruminating on the past, so you can remain present in the moment.
Eating breakfast in the morning, so you don’t turn into a ball of anxiety by 11:30.
Letting people handle own their problems, rather than feeling you have to fix them all.
Asking God to handle what you can’t.
Halting your place of worry, by taking pro-active steps to figure out a new path to peace.
What might need changing so you can park your mind in a place of peace?
Today, I am welcoming Michele Cushatt. Michele is she knows what it’s like to lose her footing, and to wonder if she’d ever again be able to stand. But she also knows what it’s like to cry out to God for grace and discover the miracle of His Presence and His Purpose right here, right now. You will love her words….
Comment for the chance to win Michelle’s book and her I AM scripture cards:
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The storm hit hard and fast and without warning.
Several hours before, we’d loaded kids and adults into our family boat for a day of skiing and tubing on Las Vegas’ Lake Mead. The day started in perfection. Blue sky dotted with cotton clouds. Bright sun reflecting on glasslike waters.
It was the first time we’d taken my niece out on the boat. Only three years old, she took it all in with giggles and wide-eyed wonder.
But the laughter died the moment the storm struck. Cotton clouds turned ominous. Glasslike waters turned foamy and whitecapped. With a glance at the shore, I knew it would take more than a few minutes to get to safety. But with each second, the swells grew, threatening to overcome our tiny boat.
I reached for my niece, pulled her onto my lap, and held her close while my husband kept his hands white-knuckled on the wheel. To drive directly to shore, we had to steer straight into the gale-force wind. But to drive into the wind meant a risk of capsizing. We needed to get off the water. But how?
I closed my eyes and prayed. As my three-year-old niece gripped my arms, my heart reached for the God I knew could deliver us.
Save us, God!
I hoped for a Jesus-sized miracle, like the day He spoke to a Sea of Galilee storm, and wind and waves came to a dead stop (Mark 4:39).
But our storm continued. In spite of my faith-filled prayers, Jesus didn’t deliver. If anything, the wind grew in intensity. I tried to stay calm for the kids, but my heart pounded with fear. I grew up on boats, knew a storm or two. But nothing like this one. Not even close.
While my brother navigated from the bow in an effort to keep the boat balanced, my husband started cutting z formations in the water. Turning left, then right kept him from driving straight into the wind. As a result, we inched closer to the shore.
Our nightmare lasted about an hour, a lifetime to a family who thought they might drown. Soaked and cold, weak from fear, we pulled ourselves and our boat out of the water and made for the safety of home. There I could finally contemplate my nagging questions:
Why didn’t God deliver us?
Why didn’t He calm the storm? I knew He was more than able; I believed it to my core. Thus the reason I prayed, because I knew my God could deliver.
And still the storm raged, oblivious to my request. Even so. We made it home. It took years for the lesson to have its full impact on my heart. For a long time I wondered why some storm-prayers are answered with calm and others are not. But now I see that day on Lake Mead a bit differently: Sometimes God delivers us from a storm. But other times He delivers us in it.
That day on the lake, God gave my husband the wisdom to z his way back to shore. God kept the boat balanced in waves far bigger than it could handle. And He kept all our children and family members wrapped up in life vests and out of the water. He didn’t still the storm. But He calmed my kids and gave us a great story to tell our friends.
To those praying for a Deliverer, John 10:10 records Jesus making a powerful proclamation: “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”
I always loved that verse, probably because it sounded like the promise of a happy life. Naively, I believed Jesus’ words included protection from all harm. Like a divine umbrella, God would spread the expanse of His arms over me and my loved ones and keep us from all rain.
It didn’t take long to end up soaking wet.
But that’s when I remembered more of Jesus’ words, only six chapters later in John 16:33: “In this world you will have trouble.”
Not “might have trouble.” Not “could have trouble.” “In this world you will have trouble.” It’s not a matter of if; it’s a matter of when. The same Jesus who promised deliverance also promised trouble. At first glance, Jesus’ words sound contradictory. And yet His life proves otherwise. It was His death that made possible our lives. Hardship to realize hope. Trouble today for the promise of a party tomorrow.
Can I trust Jesus to deliver me through one to arrive at the other?
The unexpected is unavoidable. My dream of a trouble-free life was more than a little far-fetched. It doesn’t matter whether you live in an affluent suburb of upper-class America or in an overcrowded slum of poverty-stricken India. The rain falls on each of us in good measure.
The question, then, is this: do you trust the Deliverer?
He’s the hiding place, the shelter in the rain. Yes, there are moments when God delivers you and me from our troubles. Children overcome obstacles, illnesses are healed, marriages are revived.
But more often than not, He doesn’t deliver us from harm; He delivers us in it.
The first is merely protection. The second is presence. The first causes us to cringe, as we wait for the next calamity to fall. The second provides a harbor of rest, regardless of the weather.
Life is more than calm and predictable circumstances. Life—full life—is weathering the unexpected storms and the impossible waves knowing the Deliverer is present with you in them.
I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. —John 16:33
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AUTHOR BIO
These words pulled from the pages of Michele’s most recent book—I Am: A 60-day Journey to Knowing Who You Are Because of Who He Is—were penned during her long and grueling recovery from a third diagnosis of tongue cancer, during which she was permanently altered physically, emotionally and spiritually. In it, she speaks with raw honesty and hard-earned insight about our current identity epidemic and the reason why our best self-help and self-esteem tools aren’t enough to heal our deepest wounds.
Michele and her husband, Troy, live in the mountains of Colorado with their six children, ages 9 to 24. She enjoys a good novel, a long walk, and a kitchen table filled with people. Learn more about Michele @ michelecushatt.com.
From the moment a woman wakes until she falls, exhausted, on her pillow, one question plagues her at every turn:
Am I enough?
The pressure to do more, be more has never been more intense. Online marketing. Self-help books. Movies, magazines and gym memberships. Even church attendance and social media streams have become a means of comparing ourselves to impossible standards. Am I pretty enough? Hip enough? Spiritual enough?
We fear the answer is “No.”
When a brutal bout with cancer changed how she looked, talked, and lived, Michele Cushatt embarked on a soul-deep journey to rediscover herself. The typical self-esteem strategies and positivity plans weren’t enough. Instead, she needed a new foundation, one that wouldn’t prove flimsy when faced with the onslaught of day-to-day life.
I Am reminds us that our value isn’t found in our talents, achievements, relationships, or appearance. It is instead found in a God who chose us, sent us, and promised to be with us—forever.
The lady was confident. That was my first issue with her.
If she was just beautiful and – not confident, she might not have bothered me. But, she was SO sure of herself. She knew she was made of. No one in the world could tell her otherwise! No one could stop her! She brought her brilliance with her wherever she went!
She sat like the statue of liberty. I was a small seagull whose job was to soak in her glory.
It didn’t help she had a great job and wouldn’t shut up about it. That really irked me, because at this time, I had a horrible job and I loved to whine about it. I have too much work! I can’t do it! I need a new job!
This lady spoke to my husband differently: My job is a dream! My boss is inspirational. My life is fantastic!
Puh-lease….someone pass me the salt shaker – so I can pour it on her head.
I could almost see it, me – the small one, salt-shaker in hand – wrecking her moment. Her, the large-and-in-charge one melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.
But, she is not wicked. I am. Ever asked yourself…Why am I thinking this way?
I sat back in my chair, tuned out her conversation and considered – why am I thinking so – meanly?
Her strength is depleting mine.
Her success is ruining my moment.
Her great attitude defines me as less than.
Her belief in herself is stealing my joy.
Why does one woman have such a great impact – on me? Can 1 lady take away all of God’s promises with 1 sparkly super-white smile?
Is this what God intended? For me to hate girls who are happy, successful and beautiful?
Somehow, in this moment, I know my heart has followed a rabbit trail – straight away from God’s glory. I’ve gone got myself stuck in a pit now.
Have you found yourself in a pit lately? Perhaps someone shines better than you? Always has a perfect answer? Has the job of all jobs? Is PTA mom extraordinaire? Is driving your dream car? Has perfect kids? Constantly shows off Facebook vacations?
God says, our pits are escapable, with his help. “He lifted me out of the slimy pit…he set my feet on a rock & gave me a firm place to stand.”
God has the strength to lift me up from the yuck I put myself in.
When I set my eyes on God, not her, he, like a medivac, pulls me to safety. Choose to stand upon the solid rock – the ground that is not sinking. , that is not wavering and that will not quake under the pressure of earthly measures.
Here, I see: I am not less than, I am just right in God’s eyes.
I am not struggling, but victorious, because I am chosen as daughter.
I am not without a plan, because God has created good works for me in advance. I am not alone, for God sees the desires of my heart.
I am not dependent on others, but fully dependent on God – and who he says I am.
I pull out of my thoughts and find myself at that restaurant table. Her voice emerges, except it no longer sounds like nails on a chalkboard, but another girl, who’s excited to be who she is created to be. I mention how blessed she is to have a good job. She smiles. We talk – and have fun.
Friends, I’m also sharing on Sharon Jaynes blog, “God, will you come through for me?” and on Suzie Eller’s blog, “Faith when fear tries to run you over“. Two fabulous ladies, two fabulous blogs. I encourage you to check these out! Comment on their blogs for a chance to win a free book.
Now on with my post…
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“So, because you are lukewarm–neither hot nor cold–I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” Rev. 3:16
This. This verse right here. It gives me the chills. It’s one of those things that makes you sit up straight. It reminds me of coasting on a bike. The thing about coasting is – you can’t coast up to God, you’re always coasting somewhat downwards and away from him.
I don’t want to coast. I certainly don’t want to be looking at the world and living my life, only to die and find out – I was never really that close to him to begin with.
Whoops! Big Whoops! Eternal Whoops!
You all know I just wrote the book, Fear Fighting. So, it’s not that I have to fear what I am doing wrong, it’s just that I have to fear God. Get my eyes on him. Seek him. Be with him. Pursue him.
Like dominoes, everything falls in line when we do this. We get near him and he gets in us. I like that.
With this in mind here are my 25 Ways Not To Be Lukewarm:
1. Pray
2. Praise
3. Practically search out ways to love others
4. Read scripture
5. Ask God for help.
6. Submit all your plans to God.
7. Enjoy creation with God.
8. Remember Jesus and his sacrifice on the cross.
9. Forgive others.
10. Forgo anxiety and replace it with praise.
11. Encourage another person.
12. Hold fast to the belief that trials are training you into the image of Christ.
13. Grab on to faith, even when you feel like you are falling.
14. Thank God for everything.
15. Die to your selfish ways and live for Christ’s.
16. Renew your mind in truth, throughout the day, every day.
17. Worship through songs and Psalms.
18. Seek to understand others, verses judge them.
19. Ask the Holy Spirit to be your guide, then follow.
20. Seek holy in everything you do.
21. Put on the armor of God (Eph. 6)
22. Proclaim the gospel, no matter how scared you may feel.
23. Remember God’s faithfulness in the past. Speak it over your life.
24. Receive and extend grace. Repeat.
25. Uncover your heart and ready it for God’s transformation.
The good news is – even if we’ve lived lukewarm, we don’t have to fear our salvation. If we are saved, it is as done and done is done. We also don’t have to fear that we messed up, drifted away from God or turned our back for moment. Why? Because God’s love is greater than our deep worry we won’t be loved again. It extends beyond our feelings, thoughts and hurts. It reaches in – and once again – accepts us.
Meanie: Dropped the ball and never answered me when I emailed her. Selfish & silent: Promised me something and then didn’t follow through. High-priced: Charged me an arm and a leg, ran away and left me standing with a huge bill. Go-Getter: Hurt me. Liar: Rejected me with a bold-faced lie I can’t seem to get past. Forgetter: Didn’t invest in my heart; she dissed it. Abandoner: Walked away not following through on a promise. Hater: Ignored me and grabbed hands with the popular folk. Condemner: Tore my good intentions apart.
The story is titled: They’ll all reject you.
The cast is nefarious.
The plot goes like this: I’m a speck of dust. Everyone knows I am forgettable, invaluable and pretty much unseen within the grand story called their life, their plans and their needs. I’m disposable.
Bah-humbug!
The enemies appear to be everyone. That’s a problem. That’s a big problem. I recognize it.
Because, in reality, the enemy isn’t these enemies, the enemy is the enemy. He’s thriving when he contriving. He’s jumping for joy, when he’s ruined ours. He’s grinding up love into tiny grounds that spread hate. The longer he let’s them brew the more bitter it tastes. When we drink, and we get poisoned, not with eyes to see God, but with eyes of anger and vile.
What has been brewing in your heart – is it peace and God’s presence or is a list of people who’ve hurt you?
My flesh wants to teach these people a lesson. My Spirit knows people are hurting, just like me. My Spirit knows, you can’t read the motives on one’s heart. My Spirit knows, people need love, not condemnation.
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Gal. 5:22
If I am in the Spirit, I shine Spirit. But, how do I move back to peace-calming Spirit rather than anger-brewing flesh?
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13
5 Ways to Be Led By the Holy Spirit, Not Your Flesh
Ask God to fill you with all joy and peace.
Ask God to help you trust him more.
Move into a place of continual worship, praise and thanksgiving.
Dwell only on what is good, true and excellent.
Be open to how God is teaching or leading you in a given moment.
As I practice my heart through the continual cycle of this list, I find my heart is no longer being wrung through the ringer. It softens. It sees others pain. It knows, God has a plan, even in my pain.
The Spirit confirms, I am His child and the love he surrounds me with, is more than enough to fill every hole of damage.
Is there something in your life – you can’t forgive yourself for?
There is something, even today, I am still angry at myself for doing. I can’t tell you all the full story, although I wish I could. There are people, and places and things, that have to be protected. But, what you need to know is this: for a long time I’ve walked around with a pile of regret, loaded up with the bricks of fear that I can never rewrite the past.
I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. Eph. 1:17
Peace, Child. I call you blameless.
“And you also were included in Christ when you heard the message of truth, the gospel of your salvation. When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession–to the praise of his glory.” Eph. 1:13-14
Peace, Child. I call you blameless.
Did you hear me? I. call. you. blameless. Col. 1:22
Not blamed a little bit when “that girl” stands taller, thinner and richer.
Nor blamed when you royally drop all the marbles of so-called great faith.
Nor blamed when your mind starts to dig deep tracks into despair.
Nor blamed when you can’t seem to be sinless enough to win my accolades.
Nor blamed when don’t have as good as a comeback as that other person.
Nor blamed when you look like a walking zombie of motherhood.
Nor blamed when your house is messier than a city demolished post-tornado.
Nor blamed when you feel lowly, last or marginalized.
Blameless. Child. Blameless.
For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. Eph. 1:4
Peace Child. I call you loved. Jo. 3:16
Not loved just when you’re performance is perfectly stepped and played.
But loved just as the unique creation I formed.
Your imperfections are what I call beauty. I know them and I love them.
Not like I love “her”–and for a good reason. She is not you, nor does she have your call.
I know how to love you, just as you need.
I know how to help you, just as my will prescribes.
I made you to be you, because I like you.
I made you to be you, because I have plans for you that no one else owns.
I made you to be you, because you know how to love the hurt that were hurt like you.
I made you as you, because there are people that need the most authentic being–of you.
I made you to be you, because I want you as mine. I enjoy you. I like you. I call you friend.
Order Kelly Balarie’s new book, Fear Fighting today! Or, get all her blog posts by email. Get all Purposeful Faith blog posts by email –click here.
This morning, I walked downstairs and pulled open my cabinet. Bleary-eyed, I reached for a Keurig pod and lamented that the counters weren’t wiped last night. I pull open a drawer. The silverware is askew. Random items are hodge-podged all over the drawer.
Hours later, reach into the cabinet above my computer. Paper nearly falls on my head. This time, rather than trying to shut the door quickly, I stare at it. It looks like a hurricane hit a lawyer’s office. I hate it. I hate myself.
What if someone sees this mess? What if someone knew behind the white doors of my life,
there is mayhem and mismanagement?
What if someone knew I don’t fold my kids clothes, but just stuff them in drawers? Or that a room in my basement is dedicated to boxes – of piled up junk? Or my garage never fits my cars?
What if someone saw – I look disheveled?
Not enough. Imperfect. Not so good.
What I am inclined to do – is fear: I’ll never be better than me. I’ll never meet the standard I am supposed to. I’ll always have hidden mess. And, for all this, you’ll surely abandon me. Judge me, too.
I hide things.
What fear makes you want to hide? What makes you want to stuff things away?
This mere method marks a woman with shame. Anytime we hide rather than turn towards God and thrive, we abide in shame. It’s simple.
This is why I wrote the book Fear Fighting. I was tired of hiding and running; a girl is never seen when she does this. The core of who God made you to be – is out of sight. Not only this, but the constant shuffling of feet to keep your heart calm and in control, wears on a soul.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. Jo. 14:27
If Jesus already left me perpetual peace, I no longer have to live a habitual war…
I don’t have to live in constant fear. The idea thrills me!
Jesus will bind my wounds.
He will release me from the bars that contain me.
He will take what I feel powerless to change and love on it.
He will see my mess, hold it and rework it.
He will accept me no matter what.
He will lead me to new found peace.
I want more. Do you?
Fear Fighting was my desperation cry to God. I wanted to stop trembling with uncertainty so I could walk with certainty into God’s greatest callings. I wanted to leave behind trepidation so I could walk with bold dedication into his purposes. I wanted to exchange jealousy and comparison for the life-charging power of love and grace.
I called out; God answered. I prayed; he healed. I showed him what is behind the doors of my life; he embraced me. I continue this cycle often. This is a fear fight.
Perhaps you discover how God’s perfect love casts out fear in your messy moments. Join the Fear Fighting movement. Order your book today.
Bloggers, there are 3 things you should know: 1. I’d love for you to join the Fear Fighting Writers Contest. Win a publisher, agent or marketing appointment, with my all-star team.
2. Will you bless me? I am trying to get the word out on #Fearfightingbook. Share my 4 Day to Fearless Challenge! Help you readers get fearless.
3. Join Cheerleaders 4 Christ, if you haven’t. We’ll be giving away a bunch of free stuff in the coming days.
Lately, I’ve been looking like the frumpy mom. It’s time things change.
So, I head to the store and grab a whole bunch of clothes, as if they will radically revamp what is helter-skelter – the stuffed drawers, the haphazard dinners, and my own disheveled look. New pants will fix it all.
I put on the first pair.
But, they’re made wrong. All wrong. I can’t get the dang things over my hips.
I throw them down and grab the next pair, dark jeans. These will do the trick. Except they don’t; they don’t trick anyone. And, that’s the problem. I can see the bulges. Another defective pair! Be gone!
I suck in, lengthen my torso and slightly lean over, as if my moves will grease the fabric. They don’t. The pants move like chalk on sandpaper. They suffocate my insides.
Ugh. It’s not only the pants, my hair looks horrible and my nose looks big too. Plus, these shadows in here are horrendous.
I squint at myself, silently hating – everything. These pants are all – problems!
Or are they?
What if the problem isn’t the pants?
What if it isn’t this room with dim lights?
What if the problem isn’t fabric, but – me?
What if I am more of a mess than I know?
What if these pants that reject me –
are symbolic of a world rejecting me?
What if my inability to look good
represents my incapability to do good in life?
What if I’ll never be more than me?
What if I always fall short?
Ever noticed that when one piece doesn’t fit, if you don’t get it before God, suddenly everything else doesn’t work either?
I inhale.
Will I turn to face him? Will you?
No matter where we stand? In a dressing room? In discouragement? In despair? In frustration? In aggravation? In ruin? In darkness?
Even in darkness light dawns for the upright, for those who are gracious and compassionate and righteous. (Psalm 112:4)
God’s dawn is lighting. It is for us. We think it is for others, but it is for us. Right there – in our dark rooms, the spaces that highlight our worst, that feature our folds and that cast bad shadows…
…even in these very places, God says, light is dawning…
For us, those who walk, not perfectly, but willingly, with God.
For us, ones gracious: kind and pleasant to our own selves.
For us, ones compassionate to the colossal shortcomings and massive mess-ups we are on the daily basis.
For us, ones growing in righteousness day-by-day.
And, for others, people we know – are aware of our faults.
For people, who can bust us.
For people, who no doubt can point out our flaws.
For people, who also make mistakes.
For people, who sometimes appear as problems.
God flips the light, in our darkness, as we flip our reactions over to love, peace and faith.
What happens is – through Christ – is we start seeing ourselves in good light.
I have a great desire to be a Size 6 and for firm thighs and flat tummy. However, why do I equate my physical shape with the depths of my salvation?
They are hardly the same thing.
Somewhere in the twists and turns of thought and belief, I have convinced myself my mind is lacking. I further the insanity by affirming said ideas when I look in the mirror. What is this malady of lies I foster and feed? When did I first believe that my appearance formulated my spirit? If tomorrow I were to meet with an accident and lost a limb would I believe in Jesus any less?
By no means.
Would a handicap define me as lacking in my belief that Jesus died so that I might walk in the freedom of my salvation?
Half my life I lived like this man, saying: “What good thing must I do to reach eternal life?” (Mt. 19:16)
Within my mind, I figured the answer was, “Kelly, fix everything you’re doing wrong.” Jesus responds in a similar fashion to this man, “If you want to be perfect, go and sell all you have…” (Mt. 19:21)
If I want to be perfect, go and offer more play time to my children.
If I want to be perfect, go and make better dinners.
If I want to be perfect, go to the store and buy tableware for get-togethers.
If I want to be perfect, go and find God and stop feeling guilty.
If I want to be perfect, go to Africa or India and be a missionary.
What do you need to do to be perfect?
What are you constantly criticizing yourself about?
Jesus goes on, “It’s harder for a rich man to get into the Kingdom of God than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.” (Mt. 19:24)
I know a person who feels so guilty about money. Their money makes them feel like they’ve been caught red-handed and God will slap them for having it. They nearly hate themselves for it. I am sure, they’ll probably hand it all out the very second before their last breath, just to make up for the guilt of holding on to it so long. Just to make sure God knew, they didn’t really need it after all. I think they’ve missed the point.
But, who am I to judge? I am guilty too. I am just as rich…
I am rich in my self-sufficiency.
I am rich with my desire to manage daily happenings.
I am rich in comfort.
I am rich with my judgments of others.
I am rich with own opinions.
I am rich with the desire to have earthly security.
I am hardly poor and deeply in need of Christ. I am hardly poor and wanting the fullness of him in every moment. I am hardly poor and wanting less of my flesh and more of his Spirit.
I am so rich. So rich, I feel Jesus might not like me anymore. You’ve ever been there? Feeling so off course that you’ll land shipwrecked and stuck frostbitten in Antartica without a God to save you?
Jesus’ disciples finally asked, “Who, then, can be saved?” Jesus said, “This is impossible for human beings, but for God, everything is possible.” (Mt. 19:26)
And, there it is. Like the ending to an epic movie – in sweeps the hero, the rescuer, the knight who saves the day – it is Jesus. He knows what we are without him is — ruined. But, he also knows, who we are with him is – rescued.
Jesus knew we’d never be perfect.
Jesus knew we all act – rich.
And this is the point. Jesus’ on-earth arrival points to the fact – there is none perfect, nor rich, except Jesus. Yet, in the gap of our wealth, we have available the wealth of Jesus. When we accept it, we intercept spiritual riches earth could never muster.
Jesus hands out what we believed the world never could. Jesus changes what we figured was written in stone. Jesus blasts through barriers, even when the barriers appears like our own wretchedness.
Underneath everything, Savior saves; he brings the kingdom on earth as it is in heaven, not to enforce Christian guilt, but to relieve it.
Inhale. Jesus knows failings; he releases them in the sight of his grace. And, what we are left with is not only an amazing ending, but an amazing here and now. A place we can rest.
These words pulled from the pages of Michele’s most recent book—
From the moment a woman wakes until she falls, exhausted, on her pillow, one question plagues her at every turn:
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1. I’d love for you to join the 
