courage for those in dread & resignation [part 2]: a kindling post

Posted on by May 19, 2023

This post is not for everyone. And friend, I hope it’s not for you, but if it is, hold on and press forward: There’s light and freedom at the end of it. If I were with you I would hold your hand as we step forward and tell you it’s going to be okay. It is. But even better; He is with you – at your elbow, within your blood, breathing life into your lungs. So here we go.

courage for those in dread and resignation [part 2]

This is about those situations and circumstances we’ve written off as hopeless, the ones we’ve pushed away to the farthest corner possible because they’re filled with blackness and despair. Those ones where we’re convinced that nothing good is coming of it; the enemy has stopped our ears and imaginations to all truth and covered our thoughts in that area with bleak resignation.

Part of the problem is that we protect ourselves by willful blindness. We turn off our vision in those areas – we can’t avert our eyes exactly, the trauma or pain is too close – but we can numb ourselves to seeing it. It’s too much to deal with right now. I don’t know what to do anyway. The voices are too loud and the disappointments are so crushing, it’s too much to face so we refuse to do so.

We don’t even tell ourselves it won’t get better, we just accept this as our new less-than reality. We wanted more than this, sure, but well, it wasn’t to be. “More than” was not for us. “More than” is for a select few – the rich maybe, or the immensely talented, or the highly favored, or those who were brought up in perfect families with all the right opportunities.

We think maybe it’s temporary and that we’ll come back to it later when things are easier or safer or clearer, but they never are because we never dealt with them to make them so. And when life started to ease up in the slightest we were so elated by the reprieve we could not imagine losing it by going back to deal with the dark place.

We wouldn’t really have lost the reprieve, of course; that was fear talking. And us listening.

So we live in blackness – not everywhere, of course, but in this one area we’ve given up on. Other things are mostly okay, and because of the contrast between darkness and light we don’t realize the amount of grey that bleeds into our areas of bright color, like so much ash blown by the slightest breath of wind.

The areas near our resignation are soot-smudged and tainted, shadowed by mediocrity we accept by default because of their proximity to the blackness: A hard relationship with a child that bleeds onto all our parenting. A leadership wound that taints our desire to serve. An old trauma that kindles fear into any new experience.

And we get used to this, and stop thinking about it. We have accepted it like the smells in our house and the hum of the refrigerator.

With enough time, the blackness is so integrated that, should someone question it, we eventually argue on its behalf. We make excuses, defending what the enemy has done in this part of our lives with our own justification, rationalizing away all the insecurities it bubbles up in us. Because, hey, this is our normal. And if our normal isn’t okay, we must not be okay.

And we have to be okay, because we know the blackness doesn’t get any better – and if we admitted it was supposed to be better, than we’d have to admit we were wrong to accept it in the first place.

Accepting it has been easier. We kicked against that dark shell for a while but it was exhausting, and when we gave up, it covered us like a blanket soaked in chloroform.

It’s okay, the enemy hissed. You just rest here.

And we did.

You’re thinking, I hope, of a situation in your life that has been covered in this kind of darkness. Maybe you’re thinking of a multitude of them.

You need to know that the enemy will do anything to distract you from acknowledging it, and then admitting that the blackness is not okay.

He will fight you every step of the way. And yes, fighting back is exhausting. But if you think about it and just peel back the thinnest layers of his lies to you, you’ll realize that the blackness has been sucking the energy and strength you’ve wanted to give to so many other areas of your life that have been tainted by the shadows of the other issue.

It takes a brave person to hack away at the darkness, to admit the emperor has no clothes, to acknowledge that our acceptance of despair has been an agreement with the one who hates us rather than an agreement with the God who loves us.

It takes one brave thought. One honest admission. One strong moment of clarity to start kicking at the hardened blackness.

We start to think truth.

We think, Hey – it wasn’t meant to be this way.

And a flake of crust loosens from the darkness.

We think, I’m not going to make excuses anymore about this. This is wrong.

We start to agree with God.

I’m not destined to live like this. God didn’t die for me to be “less than” in my life.

You realize you are the rich, the immensely talented, the highly favored, the one with the perfect Father who gives you all the right opportunities.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.

– Ephesians 1:3-10

But then it gets sticky, and all of our paths diverge in their own directions. Relationship issues have their lies to be confronted and healed, lifestyle choices have another set of lies that have to be confronted and healed. Past trauma has its own set of lies that need untangled. And the overlap from one area to another can seem overwhelming and complicated.

This is when we ask Him for the One Thing.

Just one, and He is a gentle, precise teacher. He will give you the most important thing to tackle that you are ready for. He doesn’t waste any time on peripherals, but He will also only confront the strongest lie that you are ready to handle.

It’s likely the enemy will immediately compound his efforts and lie to you about this because he’s terrified you will realize you’ve been locked in a prison with the key in your possession the entire time. He will tell you it’s too much, you can’t handle it, it’s too painful, you’re just not ready. He knows that appealing to our laziness and exhaustion with excuses and rationale works. And he will keep trying it until he realizes it doesn’t work on us anymore.

So we have to not allow it to work.

We have to ask God, What is the One Thing? And He tells us.

Maybe the One Thing is a habit we’ve held onto that has hurt us or our family. We may suddenly realize (or already know) there are a whole host of related habits that are also bringing decay into our lives. But, no matter – He has given us the One Thing, so we acknowledge it.

Yes, I did/believed/accepted that. Yes, it was wrong. Yes, You made me for more.

Big, deep breath. You did it. Now what?

It depends. Some of us might be tempted to run back to despair and excuses here because the issue at hand really is more about someone else’s choices than ours, and we know we can’t change them.

If this is the case, there is good news. Ready? You don’t have to change them. What you’ve already acknowledged has moved mountains – not only in your life, but in this other person’s life as well. You have moved a barrier out of the way. You’ve peeled a layer of darkness away and light is emanating beyond – the grey areas nearby are cleaner and brighter already.

As the darkness begins to lift, the Lord allows us to see strength that was won in the hard place.

O you who love the Lord, hate evil!

He preserves the lives of his saints;

he delivers them from the hand of the wicked.

Light is sown for the righteous,

and joy for the upright in heart.

– Psalm 97:10-11

Jesus, I’m praying tonight for the one who is running out of hope and needing to hear Your words. We command the enemy to be silent, the lies to be crushed, the attacks and accusations to dissolve into nothing.

We release peace and wisdom and the ability to hear You again, louder and stronger than before. I pray that we will walk and think and speak in ways that agree with You and Your word, instead of capitulating to the enemy and his lies.

Show us how strong we are, how we are more than overcomers. Help us to not pave the way for the enemy’s plans with foolish, hopeless words. We are shutting off that path and building the road that takes us forward by reading Your word, and agreeing with it.

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

– 2 Corinthians 4:6

Here’s the printable version of this post:

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Did you miss part 1? Here you go.

Looking for more posts like this? Kindling is a series of prophetic devotionals and encouragement to relight your fire in the places it’s gone out. They’re all right here. You can also subscribe here to get new posts straight to your inbox.

courage for those in dread & resignation [part 1]: a kindling post

Posted on by May 8, 2023
courage for those in dread and resignation (part 1): a kindling post

This was a couple weeks ago. See the snow? It’s not bad. In early winter it’s beautiful and exciting, but by April and May it’s sort of a drag. Not terrible though, we can live with it.

We can endure. If we had to, we could live with it as long as necessary.

Hang onto that thought because here’s a word for some of you:

You are enduring something right now that is lasting longer than it ought to. It is less than God’s perfect design for you.

A lot of people are going through that actually, but here’s where it gets specific:

You know what it takes to make the snow melt, but you’ve resigned yourself to perpetual winter because it doesn’t seem as bad as the cost of obedience.

Is that you? Be brave and keep reading. Resist the urge to hit the X and close this. There’s sunshine ahead, and no condemnation. Just conviction, but it comes with freedom, and relief, and the glory of summer.

You’ve decided to settle and endure because it seems more comfortable or safe than what the Lord asked you to do, as the vessel He flows through. And what is very dangerous about that is your heart is becoming cold and numb to hearing Him as you’ve continued to lean on reasons that justify disobedience.

Friend…you are denying spring. There is so much progress in front of you, and beauty, and warmth, and joy. You don’t want to miss out on them. They are worth the cost. His smile over you is worth the cost. His hand of protection over you is worth the cost.

We think we can just endure, but in His mercy He will drive us back to Him because the winter will become unbearable. It’s a natural consequence; our disobedience moves us out from under the hand of His protection. He didn’t remove it — we did. And we may think we can handle snow and cold temperatures for several more months, but that’s not we’ll get. We’re not signing up for the status quo. We’re signing up for 40 below zero and hurricane force winds. Not at first, of course, but if we persist in stubbornness, they are coming.

So friend, if you know what you’ve disobeyed in, confess it right now. Jesus, I’m sorry for _____. And then take your first step of obedience back in that direction, right now, even if it’s only praying, “Lord, help me remember to ___________ in the morning.”

And if you don’t know what it is but you have a vague suspicion you’ve grown numb in some area, ask Him right now: Lord, reveal again what You want me to hear and do. I’m sorry for disobeying and I want to hear You again. Then listen. Be willing to hear the thing you don’t want to hear — even the thing you realize you’re dreading — and surrender it. It may not be the thing He’s leading you to do, but even if it is, it’s far better than perpetual winter.

But don’t go digging around your soul with a garden trowel, determined to find something. Let Him do the work; it’s your job to listen if He reveals something, and then obey.

That thing that’s triggering fear isn’t really the threat you think it is. It’s pushing your buttons and making you feel vulnerable in unexpected ways, but you are safe, loved, and secure.

Look at the root of why it’s alarming you. That will show you the real issue at hand that you probably need to process and pray about. The thing you’ve been fearing is just a puffed up version of that, blown out of proportion, as the enemy has tried to play havoc on your thoughts and weak spots.

Don’t give into him. What’s the truth?

You have the mind of Christ. You have been blessed with every spiritual blessing. You are seated with Christ. You are more than a conqueror.

You hear that? You are the one striking fear into the enemy. Do not let him bluff you into believing it’s the other way around.

Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, And to present you faultless Before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy,

To God our Savior, Who alone is wise, Be glory and majesty, Dominion and power, Both now and forever. Amen.

— Jude 24-25

That thing you’ve been dreading might actually end up being a huge step forward for you. It might actually be a huge relief.

So watch your attitude and refuse to waste time in dread. Pray about your concern but move forward in what God is telling you to do so you can partner with Him. Choosing to dread does the opposite; it means partnering with fear and giving it permission. Choose obedience and trust, and give God permission to move in your life instead. We have to surrender to Him to win.

Teach me your way, O Lord, and lead me on a level path because of my enemies.

Give me not up to the will of my adversaries; for false witnesses have risen against me, and they breathe out violence.

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living!

Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!

— Psalm 27:11-14

Friend, if you are dreading the day tomorrow, or some day up ahead…He is right there, with you, ahead of you, and behind you.

If the tasks on your list seem like too much, or the kids are too much, or the people are too much, or the pain and conflict are too much, just go slow.

Watch and listen for what the Lord is up to. He wants to show you something in the overwhelm as you persevere. There’s joy and peace and certainty there as we abide.

And when we find it, we also find ourselves dreading our tomorrows less. We know we will walk in power as we go through them.

The Lord is already holding your days. You do not need to shrink back or fret. He knows and He sees you. He is walking with you, speaking to you, speaking to others on your behalf, and making a way for you.

Every time you trust Him, you protect your path forward. The snow and ice melt; your direction emerges clearly.

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going.”

Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you had known me, you would have known my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

— John 14:1-7

Lord, this is Your day, and Your week, and Your agenda. You know all the things on our calendar, and all the things we don’t know about that aren’t on it yet. We give them all to you. Help us to handle each one well, with joy and peace and wisdom, refusing to dread or stress or strive. Help us hear You and abide as we move through these days, stewarding them well to expand the Kingdom. You have great plans for us, and we will fear no Monday, or Tuesday…or any other day.

Of this gospel I was made a minister according to the gift of God’s grace, which was given me by the working of his power.

To me, though I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given, to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ, and to bring to light for everyone what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God, who created all things, so that through the church the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places.

This was according to the eternal purpose that he has realized in Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have boldness and access with confidence through our faith in him.

— Ephesians 3:7-12

Need more support and encouragement with this? Part 2 comes out next week. You can sign up for it here and it will come right to your inbox, free.

Here’s the printable version of this post:

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groundwork: when spring seems a long time coming

Posted on by April 28, 2023

It is fully spring: the air is warm, the geese are back, and we put away all the snow gear and broke out the flip flops. Yep, it’s totally spring out there, except…no leaves yet. Not a sprig of new green anywhere. Everything’s still brown, but at least that means the snow has fully, finally receded.

Inside, almost eighty quail eggs are in the incubator in our bathroom, humming along in their little racks, waiting until hatch day in a couple weeks. And in this short, brown space between snow and summer, we’re strategizing fencing and gardening spaces outside: Do we fence the garden, or do we fence the chickens?

groundwork: when spring seems a long time coming -- Shannon Guerra

We had decided on the chickens, giving them a couple of paddock spaces to alternate between so they only destroy half the woods at a time while the other half recovers. But then we had a visitor this morning and now we’re rethinking the garden, because Peter Rabbit is back.

Grrrr. I wonder if we can just fence him…and find him a wife.

But there are other spring things, too. The boys and I planted a bunch of sunflowers and veggies in starter trays, and I’m inquiring about blue, green, and dark brown fertilized eggs so we can hatch those once the quail are done (because, #chickengoals). So yes, it is brown outside but we know other colors are coming, and we’re doing what we can to help them emerge.

Isn’t this what we do? I don’t see progress yet so give me something to do to hurry it along. Waiting is the worst. W-U-R-S-T, worst. We’re waiting for healing or income or favor or direction, and the watched pot is not boiling, the leaves are not unfurling. This season is too long, taking forever, and we have things we want to get to.

Speaking of wanting to see progress in seemingly fruitless endeavors, I’m cleaning off the counter – Legos, Sunday school artwork, the toaster, a bunch of pens and colored pencils. Some headphones. I go round and round this island finding more things that don’t belong here, putting some of them in their right places but most of them in a pile for the boys to put away because it’s all their stuff. SO MANY LEGOS. And books, and magazines, and miscellaneous treasures.

I wipe down the counter. I sit on the couch and finish my coffee. I turn back around to admire the clean kitchen island, and behold, from out of nowhere, a Lego speeder has landed on it.

How did that get there? I have no idea. Why did I bother cleaning in the first place?

What is the point? Are we making any progress, or getting anywhere?

It’s odd because we spend all summer and fall preparing for winter – storing supplies, gathering the harvest, making sure we have the essentials for a storm – but then we spend all winter dreaming of spring, and spring has to be prepared for, too. It’s this circle of learning and growing and failing and achieving, and then starting over again.

But we’re not starting all over, back at the beginning, because each time the cycle restarts, our soil is richer. We remember the things we tried last year, and how they fared (or flopped) and those considerations get added in like so much compost.

And that’s good to keep in mind because this afternoon I’m reading to the kids and this is our…(hold on, doing the math…) nineteenth year of homeschool (WHAT) and I’ve been scouring our library again for good books for 3rd and 4th grade. The books aren’t hard to find; we have a houseful of them. The problem is that I have been teaching 3rd and 4th grade to one kiddo for about that many years straight and it doesn’t feel like we’re getting anywhere. We have a similar problem with another kid who’s in her fourth year of second grade math. How many easy readers of great quality can you find, and assign over and over and over, until we’re ready for the next level? How many different second grade workbooks can we go through before the concepts finally stick enough to move on to the next grade? The answer is as long as a piece of string.

I have these two little boys though, and there’s freshness here because all the favorite old stories their siblings have read to tatters over the last nineteen years are new to them: Little House, the McGuffey readers, Paddington Bear. Finn sits next to me reading aloud as I stitch granny squares, and we go round and round and round as he strings the words together.

I have been through this book five times already and I know these stories. For almost two decades they’ve been the same words, but the kids reading them are different and I am different, too, sitting here listening to them. I just keep stitching these squares, and they are also the same thing over and over, just variations in color. The stack of squares is slowly accumulating.

We blame kids for constantly asking “Are we there yet?” but really, this is one of the mantras of adulthood. Are we making any progress when it feels like everything is still brown and bare? Are we doing this right?

Later it’s Reagan’s turn, and I wait for her to read her verse aloud. Her pauses take forever between words because she approaches each one as though it’s brand new, never been seen before, practically in a different language. And it might as well be, even though she’s been through this book twice now. There’s nothing else I can do while she’s plodding through it, because if I turn my attention away, she’s even slower.

Seconds between words. Loooong strings of seconds in this long, long verse that she’s not even halfway through. I hear the boys upstairs playing in their room, and wonder what they’re doing.

Pray for her while you wait, God says. You’re an intercessor, remember? This is what you do.

I have been praying for her for eleven years. I have prayed in circles, round and round, a lot of the same things but with slight variation. I know we’re getting somewhere, I’m just not sure where it is. It reminds me of the citrus trees in my office that I’ve been told may never bear fruit – they’re taller and taller every year, but still, no buds or blooming. I grabbed the shears yesterday and pruned them anyway, believing for the impossible and working toward it. And one of these days, maybe I’ll have lemons or limes to show you.

But sometimes the timing and progress of things starts to mess with our identity, tweaking our attention in the wrong directions. When that happens, our perspective gets out of whack as we think the slowness means things it doesn’t: I’m a bad gardener, I don’t know what I’m doing, I can’t win for losing.

We think we know who we are, but we don’t understand what God is doing with us or why He’s allowing certain events or what the delay is all about.

I am a mom. A special needs mom, a homeschooling mom, a mom of many. When the kids are doing well, I think I’m doing well. When the tomatoes and lettuce are growing, I think I’m a pretty good gardener. But when the spinach bolts or the rabbit cleans out the broccoli or a kid makes lousy choices, I’m back to looking at bare earth, and chewed branches, and I wonder when fruit is coming. I wonder if I am being the me I’m supposed to be.

So what’s going on when things still feel the same, like we’re thrown right back to the beginning?

The Lord is saying, Stop looking at the branches and the dirt, Love. Look at Me. Eyes on Me.

I am the vine, you are the branches; the one who remains in Me, and I in him bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.

– John 15:5

So many times I have looked in the wrong direction and put my identity and value in outcomes and output, rather than remembering that I am a vessel the Spirit flows through. When I look toward where I expect fruit to be, I kink the flow. But when I look at Him, I am a conduit He surges through, irrigating infinite gardens yet unseen.

A wise friend explained it this way:

“…my heart needs to expand and firm up to carry more of God’s goodness to others…[but] He’s just pouring water through the channel and every day my heart is subtly increasing in capacity to care in ways I never imagined.”

– Katie

When we’re abiding and surrendered, here’s what the slowness really means: While we are waiting and preparing, He is preparing us. We are becoming more able, more equipped, more filled.

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.

— 1 Peter 1:9

Our reach is deeper and wider. We’re not just stitching in rounds, but in fractals. He is doing the work in us for expansion.

We do not make blankets, we make stitches…but the stitches make blankets, when you stick it out long enough. We look ahead to harvests, and different colors of eggs, and hutches full of quail. All these things, still unseen.

Now faith is the certainty of things hoped for, a proof of things not seen….And without faith it is impossible to please Him, for the one who comes to God must believe that He exists, and that He proves to be One who rewards those who seek Him.

– Hebrews 11:1, 6

We prepare for warmth in winter by making granny squares in spring. And in all of our preparing, He is preparing us.

We know what’s coming. The testimony of every year declares itself when spring unfurls, leaves bursting out everywhere, and we see how He’s shown up and brought victory.

Are we there yet? No, maybe not. But He hasn’t left us going around in circles on a flat plane. We are going in spirals, upward.