Category Archives: Alaska

dominance: praying revival into a world on fire

Posted on by October 12, 2023

Life has leveled up to a new level of ridiculous. I don’t mean the current events – I mean, they are, but we can talk about that later. What I mean is, there’s a rooster living in our bathroom.

I introduced you to Freckles in the last post. And yes, even inside, he still crows in the morning. Not the first day; he was too injured and didn’t eat or drink for about 36 hours. But the second morning I woke up to crowing at 7:14, approximately twelve feet from my head. The next day it was even earlier, 7:03.

dominance: praying revival into a world on fire

Knightley meowed from the corner of my pillow, and Vin murmured, “Cats to the left of me, roosters to the north…here I am, stuck in the middle with you.”

But this morning was better: Freckles, now acclimated to the late schedule of homeschoolers, waited until after 10am to start crowing. I told you, he’s marvelous.

(Wait, did I mention we also have five quail who’ve been brooding in the same bathroom for six weeks? They need to transition outside but currently their brooder won’t fit through the door because there’s a cage the size of a Prius blocking it from opening all the way.)

So some things have to change. Since we had too many roosters with all the chicks that hatched this summer, we sent two of the lesser-favored ones to (ahem) freezer camp, and in the reshuffling of space and territory, the other young rooster took it upon himself to prove dominance. Freckles got the worst of it; I found him hiding in a nesting box with one eye swollen shut.

And then – because Vin and I clearly still don’t know what we’re doing – instead of removing him that night like we should have done, we handpicked who he should roost with and put him in the coop with the gentlest hens…so we thought. The next morning both of his eyes were swollen shut and his ear was also terribly swollen, because one of them had picked on him overnight.

It’s what chickens do. If someone’s injured, they attack. It’s not exactly Kingdom culture.

That was Saturday, when everything else all over the world escalated. He’s been in our bathroom ever since to recover in safety, with occasional trips the first couple days to the living room for spa treatment (meaning, Vin held him while I swabbed his swollen eyelids with a steamy washcloth and talked to him about his nice complexion) and afternoon excursions during the last couple days to play with the kids in the yard or help the guys change tires because we got our first snow this week.

Our beautiful fall quickly turned to bleak-fall-mixed-with-winter, and we need to figure out what to do about roosters, and quail, and garden pots that need put away. I cannot resolve world events but I can tackle these. So while world leaders strut about a war they helped create to line their own pockets as others pay the ultimate price, I’ve been distracted with the small events in my own territory, watching Freckles make progress as his eyes start to see again.

Is it enough, though? It’s such a small thing in light of so many unknowns and concerns about the future. We can pray deep and wide, but physically I can only reach so far.

And I thought about not sharing any of this at all because people on the internet can be stupid. (Not you, of course. Other people.) Why do you have more than one rooster? You should just get rid of the one who lost the fight. You should do this and this and this…People who don’t bother asking about the size of our flock or other dynamics are happy to throw out all kinds of unhelpful advice and criticism so they can feel like experts. But I’m not here for advice or criticism; I’m just here learning and trying to do the right thing, like most of the rest of us.

(For the record, we have too many hens for one rooster, and I don’t want to eliminate the one who’s nicest to the hens and our family. DUH.)

In the middle of the world threatening to light itself on fire, there’s something visceral and focused about trying to bring healing to one creature, and about not just letting nature take its course but instead being an intentional steward, partnering with God to bring restoration.

Sometimes I am the creature who needs healing, and if I can get the log out of my own eye it makes a huge difference on a wider scale. This right here, where I can touch, is where I do the most important work. When the world is ridiculous, this is where I show it who’s boss: He is, of course.

Good and upright is the Lord; therefore he instructs sinners in the way.

He leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble his way.

– Psalm 25:8-9

So I harvested carrots, and pulled ripe tomatoes from the vines growing in the living room, and spent more time listening – really listening – to my kids than I was inclined to after bedtime. I cleaned the gross area under the sink and prayed for other gross areas to be cleaned from our country.

I read to my kids, and prayed with a stranger at the thrift store, and smiled at people who looked like they were in a hurry, because I’d rather be at home instead of running errands, too.

Trust in the Lord, and do good; dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.

– Psalm 37:3

Such tiny things. But I want people to be unable to drive through Wasilla without being touched by the Lord and encountering bold love from His people. This is my territory, the land He’s made me (and many others) steward of. This is the place I can touch and cultivate. This is where we release Kingdom culture, ignite revival, and prove Who is dominant.

This morning we were praying about how creation groans, and how creation sings God’s praises, and how creation bears witness to God. We listened to the same song I sang when I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant with Kavanagh, struck with the glory of sober obedience: If creation still obeys You, so will I.

The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein.

– Psalm 24:1

For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.

– Romans 1:20

And as we prayed, I kept hearing the phrase, “Creation, obey Him!” The enemy is bent on destruction because chaos and ugliness don’t reflect the glory of God or draw people to Him. But beauty, order, and strength do.

So in the midst of chaos, when anything I can do feels so small in comparison to world events, I’m pursuing order and beauty and strength in the areas I can reach. Because things here have to change.

I cannot counsel world leaders who beat war drums, but I can finish the tasks on my own desk. I can ask God to heal the wounded while I tend my rooster. I cannot prepare for all the unknowns, but I can pray for people to encounter God in dreams and visions as I bring order to my own house. I cannot root out evil networks, but I can ask God to invade hardened hearts as I wipe the counters and run another load of laundry and pray for those driving up and down the highway.

People are trying to light the world on fire, but what if the fire they get is revival, instead?

The globalists and the terrorists – but I repeat myself – think they dominate but they haven’t seen real power yet. They have no idea what comes of the prayers of those who have favor with the King who turns evil on its head: Communities saved. Culture redeemed. Workers of evil brought into the Kingdom of light.

What if we prayed that way, and the Lord confronted the perpetrators with the blinding light of a Damascus road experience? Because He does.

What if we prayed for those who are fleeing and despairing, and Jesus showed them He is the God who sees? Because He is.

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.

— 2 Peter 3:9

For the evildoers shall be cut off, but those who wait for the Lord shall inherit the land. In just a little while, the wicked will be no more; though you look carefully at his place, he will not be there. But the meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace.

– Psalm 37:9-11

It’s another season of sober obedience; our hearts might get hurt in this. But that’s the case in parenting, forgiving, writing, reaching out to others, being a friend, or trying to learn anything new. We might get hurt. None of this is safe or guaranteed.

But letting nature take its course and resigning to not doing anything is an insult to the One who gave everything, even when He knew it would hurt. He hasn’t called us to bury our talents and do the safe or easy thing. He’s called us to level up, even if it looks ridiculous.

He hasn’t called us to act like chickens, but to be saints, a royal priesthood.

 But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.

— 1 Peter 2:9

It might bring the eucatastrophe we didn’t know we could hope for. We can pray for revival in the face of all the threats and posturing, and watch a quiet uprising that lights the world with a different kind of fire – the kind that burns but does not consume.

We pray rockets of revival and repentance into hearts everywhere, starting with our own. And the whole world will be changed, and we never saw it coming.

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P.S. Links for you!

  • How do we walk in God’s presence, and rest in God, and also be His resting place? What is He calling us to be, and how do we succeed? This is a life-changing teaching from Hayley Braun; her message starts around 1 hour 55 minute mark.
  • Incredible podcast here on hearing God, imagining with Him, and spiritually occupying the land the Lord has put before us, with Lana Vawser and Courtney Kueck.
  • Did you see my guest post at Raising Arrows? It’s on post-adoption depression which I absolutely did NOT want to write about, especially after writing a whole book on it…but we can do hard things. So I did. It’s a super vulnerable post and I hope it blesses you.
  • We just started A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens this week in Gaining Ground. I’d love to have you join us! Don’t be intimidated by Dickens; he’s wonderful and we’re tackling just 35-40 pages a week.

with book: introducing the one I always meant to write

Posted on by August 2, 2023

Long gone are the days when I would sit here, hitting these keys until 3 am. But not long gone – in fact, extremely present and frequently of late – are the hours of overtime on the couch after the kids are in bed.

with book: introducing the one I always meant to write

I have forgotten to eat dinner, left bowls of my beloved popcorn untouched, neglected normal writing schedules, and overlooked watering the garden. But this book is alllllmost done in spite of computer disasters and apps that eat landing pages and several unplanned medical appointments including two trips to urgent care in the last month…one for a kid who broke his arm and one for a bigger kid with a cyst who needs oral surgery again.

And we’re not quite done yet because, just for fun, we’re considering a new book distributor at the last minute.

But hey, friends…let me introduce you to the baby I’ve been pregnant with for eleven years.

“It burned me from within. It quickened; I was with book, as a woman is with child.”

– C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

risk the ocean: an adoptive mom's memoir of sinking and sanctification

This is a memoir of my post-adoption journey through the chaos of mothering and homeschooling six kids in the midst of multiple special needs and my subsequent depression and sanctification as I learned to surrender. If you read Upside Down and Oh My Soul and wondered what was really going on behind the scenes, it’s in this book.

Because we never know how far our dreams and callings will take us when we start pursuing them. The initial rose-colored ideas only get us ankle-deep along the shore, digging our toes in warm sand, before reality sinks in and we’re up to our ears in work we didn’t anticipate, opposition from out of nowhere, obstacles we don’t know how to solve, and expenses that threaten to suck us under.

At some point, we have to decide if it’s really worth the sacrifice to turn our vision into reality. And if it’s a daydream, maybe it’s not worth it. But if it’s a calling – a mission – then it’s a different story.

This, friends, is a different story.

In 2010, Vince and I started a process we didn’t know how to finish. We had four kids, a three-bedroom house, and two old vehicles. We lived frugally with one main income, one micro-business, and a little in savings. And God called us to adopt two children with special needs, bringing them home two years later to freedom, a new homeland, and our family. For good, forever.

And then hell broke loose.

We didn’t know what it would cost, or what it would take out of us. We didn’t know what we would gain, or how it would change us. We didn’t know how the story would end.

And I hate to spoil it for you, but years later I still don’t know how the story ends. We still live this story every day. But here’s what I’ve learned, and am continuing to learn, in the process:

We can talk about following our dreams all we want, but our calling is only achieved through giving up what feels safe and comfortable. It involves scary things like obedience and surrender, and letting go of our preconceived notions and penchant for control. We have to move out of the comfort zone and do hard things. We have to risk the ocean if we want to follow Him as He walks on water.

When we move out of that comfort zone, God may allow us to discover more about our own brokenness than we ever wanted to know. This is especially true when our dreams and callings entail facing someone else’s trauma in close proximity.

And I won’t lie to you – in our own weakness and brokenness, sometimes we look at the waves and can’t take it anymore, and we go under, to be refined like a rock worn smooth in the agitation of violent surf.

The sanctifying process might chafe you raw, until you think you can’t take anymore.

Doesn’t that sound fun? Still want to sign up?

The thing about obeying God in these big, scary callings is that it’s not about what we’re doing at all. It’s about what He ends up doing in us. Because as we follow Him in one task, He will lead us to another, and another, and another. And we discover that we’re not just called to a mission, but to a character of obedience – like children who watch what their Father is doing, and then they do it, too.

So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, the Son can do nothing of his own accord, but only what he sees the Father doing. For whatever the Father does, that the Son does likewise.”

– John 5:19

It turns out that achieving a dream is not about tying things up in the pretty bow we always expect, because redemption and achievement rarely look like a Hallmark Christmas movie.

They usually look more like God moving in deep and lasting triumph in spite of everything the enemy throws at us.

Risk the Ocean is now available for preorder. All preorders from our site receive a free download of the book in PDF, and will be signed by me and shipped on September 19th. Order more than one book, and there will be swag tucked in, too! Bookmarks, stickers, magnets, something fun and marvelous. I’ll figure it out soon. :) Thanks so much for supporting our family. xo

bricks without straw: the struggle that leads to freedom

Posted on by June 21, 2023

You wouldn’t think gardening could make you that sore. You pull out seed packets, you put seeds in the dirt, you water.

But no, it’s not that simple because you actually have to move a lot of that dirt and water. Pots go here, pots go there. All the pots need filled with dirt and then you realize, Wait, that spot looks funny. So you go back to rearranging.

A bench is in the way, in the prime real estate of the porch’s sunny south side. You try moving it but no, BIG nope, that’s going to hurt tomorrow. So your husband comes and together you pivot (“PIVOT!” yes, I was thinking that, too) to the other side of the deck. Ahhh, done.

But no, not so fast, because there’s that empty space where the bench was, and you still need to put pots there. Drat.

And that’s how it goes.

bricks without straw: the struggle that leads to freedom

That night in the shower as I scrubbed the dirt off my feet I found a particularly dark spot under all of it, and rubbed at it. Ew, a blister? No, different texture, not rubbing off. Kind of gummy. Ah, tree sap. Gross.

This is how we cultivate life: Hands in the dirt, doing the work, asking for help, making a lot of turns and finding new perspectives, feeling the burn and ache of too much movement when we try too much on our own, and in the end, we still have to trust God for the harvest because we don’t control the weather or what goes on underground. And even if we fence what we can, there are still other critters out there who want to steal the harvest.

(Peter Rabbit, I’m looking at you.)

It’s raining so we are doing inside-the-house things, and I tried something new today: recording audio downstairs. It’s still empty where Iree moved out; we haven’t rearranged rooms yet, and I thought it would be quieter in the basement. Less traffic, less airplane noise.

WHAT WAS I THINKING.

Quail roosters crowing in the bathroom overhead. The furnace and water softener kicking on. And then, so help me, someone flushed the toilet.

(“…John seventeen says, All mine are yours, and–” BA-WOOSH, gurglegurgle pflalbghghghrrr…)

The new quail are almost fully grown, so they will quiet down soon. Our oldest son came over the other day and asked why the males crow so much, and I told him it’s because they feel safe – they can make noise because they know they’re not in danger. When they go outside, they don’t crow as much.

And, well…when they’re in the freezer, they’re absolutely silent.

We make more noise and move more freely when we feel safe, too. We try new things, have room for mistakes, we try again, and get better. We tend to ask for help from people we trust and we get comfortable with the tasks we do over and over again.

And then something changes suddenly: A financial challenge, or a health issue, or a move, or a basic routine gets rearranged, and we’re like…Ugh, now I have to figure this out all over again.

I like (no, love – like, looooove) routines and predictability. I prefer flexible structure with just enough variety to keep life interesting. I like reading new books but I want to choose which ones they are. I want to learn new things, but do it on my own timeline and with my own curriculum.

And to some extent the Lord allows it, but the last few several dozen years have brought plenty of surprises to keep us on our toes and on our knees, trusting Him for what we needed as life shifted under and around us. We haven’t wanted to learn certain things that He’s put in our way. I was happy with the worn trails I was used to, where I knew all the turns and risings and places where you had to step over tree roots that crept onto the path.

But He is constantly forcing us to branch out into new territory. There have been so many times I felt suddenly lost in unfamiliar ground, unsure of how to go on, or how to do what He was calling us to. I have often felt like we were making bricks without straw, and we are there again in this season.

So I’m reading Exodus 5, where the Israelites really had to make bricks without straw.

Or, not without straw, but it was no longer just given to them. They had to go find it themselves. It was punishment from Pharoah – and not just punishment, but it came as a result of Moses obeying God and telling Pharoah to let the Israelites go.

Let’s go back a little bit, because this is often our life, too:

Then Moses and Aaron went and gathered together all the elders of the people of Israel. Aaron spoke all the words that the Lord had spoken to Moses and did the signs in the sight of the people. And the people believed; and when they heard that the Lord had visited the people of Israel and that he had seen their affliction, they bowed their heads and worshiped.

– Exodus 4:29-31

Then Moses and Aaron went to Pharoah, gave him the message, and he said, No, BIG nope, you’ve clearly got too much time on your hands. Let’s make things more difficult for you.

So, to sum up:

We hear God, we do what He says, we feel hopeful about the future, and wham, the hammer drops. THANKS A LOT.

Is this life, though? We try new things in obedience and they don’t seem to work out. Or they get harder, or the circumstances become worse, or the whole situation reveals itself to be more complicated than you realized in the beginning, and if you knew how complicated it was going to be you wouldn’t have taken it on in the first place and that’s probably why God didn’t tell you…because he was protecting you from disobedience.

But maybe things are working out…they’re just still working out.

Because here’s the part of this story that struck me:

[Pharoah said] “Go and get your straw yourselves wherever you can find it, but your work will not be reduced in the least.” So the people were scattered throughout all the land of Egypt to gather stubble for straw.

– Exodus 5:11-12

They still had what they needed; it just wasn’t handed to them anymore. Suddenly they had the freedom to find it for themselves. The middle man was eliminated. They could get the straw on their own without the process being controlled by someone else. And that’s significant, because straw comes from grain, which is food for them and their livestock.

Yes, it was more work. Yes, it seemed impossible. No, they would never have done it if they hadn’t been forced to. But do you see what happened here?

The Lord is preparing them to be delivered. They are forced to be resourceful. They have to get to know the land around them.

Because the Exodus is coming.

How many things have you done in the last year or so that you never would’ve taken on if you didn’t feel compelled to? I can think of a zillion things – well, at least seven – that I could’ve easily left on my “someday” list. (Or, honestly? My “never in million years” list.)

For example, I love the chickens, but I probably wouldn’t have chosen to have two coops full of them. And the quail? No way. Also, I never would’ve pursued several business skills we’ve had to figure out and push through. And there are so many things I’ve learned about our government and systemic corruption and history that I was happier not knowing.

But the Lord has continued to say, Dig deeper. Look further. Try this. Get ready for that. Read about this. You need to know the land. This is a time to run faster than you think you can – and trust Me, you’ll be glad you did.

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.

– 1 John 4:18

When obedience leads to more work, it feels like punishment because we aren’t seeing the promise on the other side of it yet. But the ache and the curveball and the new endeavors aren’t punishment; they’re growing strength. It’s upgrade.

It’s actually preparation for promotion, because God is getting us ready for freedom.

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