Our Default is Movement

What do you write when the words don't come? 

Something. Anything. 

I suppose it's a similar answer to the question - What do you do when you don't know what to do?

Something. Anything. 

Movement is the right direction. There are times God asks us to be still, but not for us to stay there. He says, "Look I am doing a new thing. Don't you see it?" He says, "WALK by faith and not by sight." I'm reserving my standing still for honor, reverence and desperation, but my default is movement. 

Writing has always been a part of me, but for too long I have sat silent. I'm not exactly sure what to write and without a social media presence I understand few to anyone will ever see it, but something in me is telling me to put pen to paper or fingers to the keyboard and do something, say something. 

So if you don't know what direction to take? Ask the Lord, yes. Seek godly counsel, yes. Then DO something. 

God honors our actions. He redirects us if necessary. He closes doors when needed. But we get nowhere for Him or for the kingdom by sitting still. It's time to take action.

Serve in the Waiting

Serve in the waiting.

I was a child when I felt called into vocational ministry. So I did everything in my own power to position myself to get there. I volunteered, served, lead, memorized and studied. I attended a Christian university. I lead worship. I used my platform as a beauty queen to share the love of Christ. I was constantly striving and serving and seeing great results. Until one day my platform disappeared. My opportunities stopped and my dreams of ministry seemed to dry up.

I stayed in that quiet place for TEN years. This was not a punishment as my flesh thought. It was simply a season, a season of growth. In that time, my titles grew from Miss to Mrs. to Mom and somewhere in the midst of those dry places I felt God whisper...

"Will you serve me in the waiting?"

After having spent much of my life on a stage, a visible platform, what He was requiring now was my heart and not my performance. I’ve always been told ministry is more about how well you serve people than anything else and now God was showing me that firsthand. Even if I was not getting paid, would I still serve His people? And would I do it well? The task of the unseen... is not unseen to Him.

This weekend I found myself sitting on a stage, surrounded by the most amazing women of God. Everything inside of me screamed that I did not deserve this seat at the table, this opportunity for ministry. But instead of believing that lie, I felt confident that the door, once tightly shut, had now swung wide open as His words began to flow out of my mouth.

So if your heart for ministry doesn’t line up with your current season... Serve in the waiting. Serve well and keep serving. Sometimes seasons change when you least expect it. 💗

Hard Earned Growth

Hard earned growth. 

Sometimes growth is obvious. Our children grow and we can see the visible change right before our eyes. Their bodies physically take up more space, they consume more food, they learn more information. The results are undeniable.

But what about growth that’s not quite so noticeable in our own lives? Patterns and habits that are slowly progressing. Thought processes we were once certain would always look the same, but are now taking a positive change. Grief previously overbearing, but now only coming in waves. 

Progress.

Living means growing. Change is inevitable. Change is the sign of new life inside of us. 

Isaiah 43:19 shows us God’s heart towards change.

“See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the wilderness

and streams in the wasteland.”

God is teaching me to recognize the small things, the streams, in my own life. He wants us to pause beside those streams to see the new growth pop up. He wants us to recognize who He making us to be. He wants us to continue to give Him the freedom to do more and greater things in and through our lives, as we embrace the inevitable growing pains that come with seasons of stretching and change.

I’m not sure I can put my finger on exactly what God has been stretching me for over this last season of life and it hasn’t been painless, but it has been good. Let’s lean into this season of growth together. 

This is how I fight my battles

“This is how I fight my battles,” I sang under my breath. 

My hands lifted unapologetically in the air. My knees pulled to my chest. The pink hospital gown draped loosely over my body. A small “yes” written in my own handwriting visible from the opening in the front. 

“Yes” you may cut my body open. 
“Yes” that is in fact the side where the lump was found.
“No” I will not give into the fear that is literally clawing away at me from the inside.

The nurse had disappeared out the door in search of the doctor.

After walking in such peace for the past two months, all of my emotions chose THIS exact moment to come to the surface. No, not now, not here. God had asked me to trust Him in this, but to be honest, I was tired. Every part of me was tired. So when the door shut behind her, all I could do to keep from falling apart was to lift my hands and sing.

Worship had become my weapon. But in my brokenness, my praise was more of an anchor than a flag of victory. A lifeline when I needed it the most.

“It may look like I’m surrounded but I’m surrounded by you.” I sang in cracked whispers as I brushed back heavy tears. The weight of the unknown settling in.

In that moment through my tears, God met me in that hospital room. He had asked me to trust Him on this journey, trust Him enough to not run to others... not yet. Well days turned to weeks and weeks to months. The doctors visit, the mammogram, the ultrasound, and now the biopsy, each giving cause for the next. Finally the day had come to know the truth and as God often does in my life, it was just He and I sitting alone waiting together.

I knew there was a very real spiritual battle taking place in the middle of this physical and mental one. But as I lifted my hands and sang, my tears stopped, my breathing slowed and my heart found rest. The situation hadn’t changed but my worship had changed how I was responding to the situation.

After months of waiting, these results came only the following day.
-The tumor was benign.-
A diagnosis I never thought I’d be in the position to hear, but so incredibly grateful for those words.

And once again I found myself hands lifted high.

For worship is not only my weapon in times of struggle, but my gratitude in seasons of relief. It is my default in almost every circumstance.

Worship doesn’t have to be done from a mountaintop. It’s not only meant to be found within the four walls of the church. It’s something we carry with us. It can be done on a closet floor, in a car, at a graveside or even sitting in a hospital bed. It’s only requirement is a heart postured towards God. Worship combats fear, doubt, anxiety, depression, anger and sadness and it’s available to everyone, everywhere.

Our praise is our weapon and it has power. 💗

The Man in the Corner

It had been over two hours of anxiety. This Oklahoma girl was just not cut out for traffic in the big city. L.A. freeways might have been the death of me, but we finally made it to our destination, sort of. We pulled up next to the football stadium just in time to hear the kickoff from our open car windows. My husband is a diehard Minnesota Vikings fan, and he's never been to a game. But they just happen to be playing in L.A. while we were visiting. Jeff's work meetings ended a little early and with a hope and a prayer we proceeded on the treacherous trek through traffic to see if we could make it to the game. Our spirits were hopeful, all we had to do was park and we could make it in before the second quarter. "All we had to do..." Famous last words.

It was almost halftime before we finally gave up looking for a parking spot. Feeling defeated, we drove a little farther and found a place to eat. On our way into the restaurant I noticed them, you know the people, the ones that are easy to overlook. One stood out to me- pony tail, bright blue shirt, talking to himself, then responding and quietly laughing. I didn't know if I should be sad or concerned or some combination of the two.

After three plus hours of driving, we ended up at a pizza place... a pizza place that also had a location just minutes from our hotel. Oh the irony!

We talked and laughed and commiserated, eventually I noticed "my friend" walk in and find his way to an empty corner table where he sat alone and continued his self-made conversation. I was feeling very conflicted, but wasn't sure why. I ran to the restroom before we started on our long journey home, even mentioning to Jeff to keep an eye on me as I walked by my friend down the long dark corridor that led to the bathrooms.

As I walked past him, the conflict in me was growing. I knew I was supposed to DO something. A million thoughts filled my mind, possible scenarios and outcomes quickly followed. I couldn't keep up. I felt like my brain was on overload. But God is rarely that complicated, so in His normal peaceful demeanor and through all the chaos in my mind, I clearly heard the scripture- "If you love me, feed my sheep." All the other thoughts vanished.

I knew what God was asking. I had half of a pizza left. Pizza I hadn't touched. He wasn't making this difficult or overly complicated. He was quite literally and simply asking me to give my food to this man. Food I otherwise would have thrown away. For whatever reason, my desire to be "comfortable" was fighting with the possibility of insulting this man, but as it often does in my life, obedience won.

So after wrestling with God on the walk back down that hallway, I took a deep breath and quietly asked him if he would like a half of a pizza. He never looked me in the eyes. He simply dropped his head and shrugged. "I mean... I guess, if you're not going to eat it."

I quickly got the pizza from our table and very unceremoniously handed it over. "Thank you. God bless," he said with his eyes still hung low and his shoulders hunched. I said you're welcome and walked out the door. That was that. Honestly, it wasn't a grand gesture, but I left there knowing at least I had been obedient.

Not long after that we were sitting once again in traffic, my own shoulders tense, my neck in knots. It had been a long day and we didn't even get to go to the game. Jeff was focused on the road and I was trying NOT to focus on the road. I was stressed, annoyed and I found myself asking God, "Why?? What was the point of that? We drove over five hours in a car for nothi..."

And I heard that still, small voice yet again. "If you love me, feed my sheep."

I couldn't finish my sentence because suddenly it all made sense. The puzzle pieces in my mind started to make a clear picture.

God...You wouldn't have had us drive almost six hours in a car, just to give a man in the back of a restaurant a half of a pizza? Would you??

"Bethany, I would have flown you halfway across the country, to drive almost six hours in the car to give this man, my child, a half of a pizza."

I sat in stunned silence. I had been thinking far too small.

Immediately all of my annoyance, frustration and confusion melted away and I simply found myself grateful. Grateful that God found me somehow worthy of an assignment with such great importance to Him that it required extreme lengths and amazing distances. What I saw as a detour, God saw as a destination. Even through my lack of understanding, He still chose to use me.

The more I thought about my friend, the more God reminded me that there is no limit to the lengths He will go to for each and every one of us. The details of our lives orchestrated with such care and precision, each one of us HIS intricate masterpiece and He would move heaven and earth to make sure we know the depths of His love.

I am quite certain I will never understand the importance of what God had me do, at least not on this side of eternity. But regardless of what my meager offering might have meant to that man, God's lesson to me was invaluable...

His love for us is unexplainable and the lengths He will go to ensure we know that love is immeasurable and when given the opportunity to play a part in sharing that love with others...always say yes.

"How deep the Father's love for us,

How vast beyond all measure,

That He should give His only Son

To make a wretch His treasure."

- Stuart Townend

Even on your worst days

My past few weeks have been rough, to put it mildly. 

I pushed too hard. I did too much. Then I got sick... and kept going. I’m not sure at what point an overly self sacrificing mom goes from nobility to stupidity, but I definitely crossed that line some time in recent weeks. 

Then it all came to a head on Tuesday morning. I woke up and knew I was teetering on the edge of my limits, but the big girls had meet the teacher, so once again I pushed through. Honestly it was simply a terrible day, but I did what moms do and I kept going and plastered that smile across my face... until I couldn’t anymore. 

One final issue at school pushed me past my breaking point, it was something that on a normal day would have left me unphased, but not that day. So I walked up to the front desk to address the issue and up walks the principal and in an instant my cool collected nature disappears only to be replaced by a bumbling idiot. You guys I lost it... like uncontrollable, streaming tears down my face, words slurred, mascara running and couldn’t catch my breath kind of reaction. And there was nothing I could do to make it stop. 

Sometimes we fall quietly in a safe guarded place. Other times we lose our minds surrounded by our kids, their principal, all of the administration, the school counselor, a handful of parent volunteers and about a dozen parents and their children. Surrounded by people and yet in that moment never feeling more alone. 

I apologized and practically ran from the building. 

God and I have argued since then about the necessity of that particular breakdown at that particular place in time. But I’m continuing to trust that He works all things out- even my crazy humanity. 

As I slowly began to tell my friends about what happened, I realized that almost every single one of them had a similar story of when they came to the end of their rope- albeit less dramatic and Oscar award winning than my own recent humiliation, but all of a sudden I wasn’t alone. I walked away from one of those conversations and took a deep breath for the first time in almost three days. I wasn’t crazy! Or at least I wasn’t ALONE in my crazy. 

And while there are so many lessons that I can take away from this very public experience, the reason I’m sharing it with all of you... is because I know there has to be someone else out there who needs to know they are not alone in their struggle. I’m working on slowing down when I need to, trusting God more completely and handling my stress in more proactive ways. But there is just something about knowing other people around you are working through their own junk, as you work through yours. 

So just know I’ll be over here wading through mine, and if you need an ear to bend or a prayer prayed... just let me know. You’re not alone in this. 

XOXO

               Bethany

I made a new friend at the strip club



I made a new friend at the strip club.

After mentioning a few times that she hadn't been there in years, I finally squatted down next to her on the dirty linoleum floors and asked her to tell me her story.

She told me her version of a story I had heard dozens of times before. It was just as upsetting as the first time I'd heard it. Then she looked at me, shrugged and said, "I don't even know why I'm here. I don't want to be here."

All I could do was smile from ear to ear. Isn't God funny, I thought, that He would SEND someone to a strip club so they could meet Jesus? And yet that's exactly what He did for her.

She shared her deep struggle with depression but her unwavering, passionate love for her children. After listening for some time, I shared my own struggle with depression and contemplation of suicide. We may have come from different worlds but the pain was the same. I was able to take her by the hands and say, "You might not know why you're here, but I know EXACTLY why you came tonight. God wanted to meet you here. Can I pray for you?" And we prayed. And prayed. And we both cried. After I said amen, I laughed and said only half jokingly, "Well you got what you came for, now you can go home!" To which she replied, "I think I just might do that."

When God says He'll meet us where we're at... HE MEANS IT! He would go to the ends of the earth to pursue His children. As I left that night, my new friend ran out behind me, fully dressed, threw her arms around my neck and said she was heading home.

The ministry I'm a part of is unconventional at best, crazy at worst. But if being crazy means people who need to hear from God turn and walk out of a strip club after they encounter Him. Call me crazy any day because I won't stop.