There was once a young girl who was placed in a desert. She was completely alone. She was hot. She started walking, hoping to get herself out of there, but she couldn’t figure out where she was going. She walked all through the day, north, following the pattern of the sun. It was very hot. Her feet were hurting. She was hungry and thirsty. But she didn’t see any sign of anything changing.

She started to dwell on how miserable the desert was, and she could only feel alone, and tired, and thirsty. She was so thirsty. The more she thought about how thirsty she was, the more thirsty she got. And as she began to feel cotton-mouthed, totally parched, completely dry, she started to get angry. Why was she here? Why was she alone? Why did it have to be so hot? Why couldn’t she have better shoes for this, or something to shade herself? If only she could have a drink.

Then she saw it – a stream, ahead of her. She thought if only she could get to the stream to get a drink, she’d have everything she ever needed. She would have enough. She could get through anything else, if only her thirst could be fulfilled. She put all of her energy, everything that she had, toward getting to that stream. And there she was, finally. And she drank and drank until she was full. The water was sweet and cold and so very fulfilling.

Still in the desert, but now with a source of water, she followed the path of the stream. When she felt overwhelmed, like she couldn’t go any further, she was able to take a drink. She was still tired, and somewhat hot, but she was no longer thirsty, and the fulfillment of her thirst was all she needed to keep going.

But following the path of the stream, the girl started to become angry again. Why was she here? Why was she alone? Why couldn’t she have better shoes for this, or something to shade herself? Even though the stream was enough – it was satisfying and fulfilling and more than enough to get her through – she found herself only able to think about what she still didn’t have. In her anger, she felt resentment toward the water. Why couldn’t the water grow a tree to provide her with shade, too? Why couldn’t the water bring a friend on a boat to rescue her? She started to hate the water, and out of spite, she stopped drinking and turned her back to it. Walking next to the water, she refused to drink any more. The sun beat down on her. She scowled. Her feet ached. She grumped, and huffed, and filled her mind and her heart with her misery. Her mouth started to get dry. And then, again, she was thirsty.

This time, she knew in the depths of her heart exactly what would fulfill her again, and she knew that it was right there next to her, but she was mad at the water for not doing enough, so she stubbornly didn’t want any part of it. So she ignored her aching thirst and kept going. She filled her mind with lies about the water. It didn’t taste very good anyway. It was warm. It’s not enough for me, so I don’t want it at all. And then she filled her mind with the desert. This is the worst place I’ve ever been. I’m so miserable here. I’m so alone, and it’s not even my fault. Why can’t I have shade? Why can’t this sand be easier to walk on? Why does the sun have to be so hot? Will it ever become night here, and cool? Will I ever have a friend with me? I will be stuck along this path forever, with no way out.

After a while of dwelling on the desert, the girl, though she was walking right next to the water, forgot that it was there. She ignored the dull, dry ache in her throat and thought about how awful everything was. After a long bit of walking, she was getting to the point where she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She was thirsty. She was so, so thirsty. If only there were some water. She remembered long ago when she had water, and it filled her up so well. She remembered how it felt, that it was everything she had needed. She remembered drinking it but still wanting other things. She realized how wrong she had been, and she wished she could go back to where she had been, where the water was so exciting, so refreshing, so fulfilling, so cooling, and just enough for her – exactly what she needed. Then she started to get angry again. She thought she’d never just be able to have everything that she wanted. Couldn’t there just be trees next to the water, so she could have shade and a drink? Couldn’t there be nice hiking shoes there, so her feet wouldn’t hurt so bad? I mean, how hard was that? She knew there had to be other people in the world who got the stream with the tree and the shoes. Why couldn’t she be one of those?

After a longer period, and thinking fully about how very miserable she was, the girl was so thirsty that she couldn’t stand it anymore. And all this time, the water was right next to her – cool, healing, delightful, fulfilling, enough – but she just couldn’t see it.

When I read this story, I just want to shout at the girl. OPEN YOUR EYES! The thing you need, the exact thing that gives you everything you need, is right in front of you! How are you so obtuse?

But I also feel for her. I mean, I am her, obviously. I know exactly what fulfills me. I know that Jesus is enough. I know He is all I need, and He is my joy. But I ignore that by dwelling on everything else that I think is going to make me happy until I forget that the Living Water is right there, next to me. And then I’m so thirsty for the Living Water, and I ache for the joy that it brought, in those sweet, precious moments when I realized exactly Who was enough for me. But He’s right there. I mean, He is RIGHT THERE. I am the girl who is walking along the desert, complaining about how thirsty she is, angry and bitter and sad and alone and depressed, with all the water I need within arms reach.

I think joy is a choice. Joy doesn’t mean that we aren’t in the desert anymore. It just means we choose to drink the water that is sitting right next to us instead of choosing to think about how miserable the desert is. This shift in attitude seems so cliche, but it’s really all we need because we already have the One we need.

The bible talks about this change of attitude when we know Christ.

When we know Jesus, we set our minds on things above, not on earthly things (Colossians 3:2). We don’t conform any longer to the pattern of this world (such as our desire for stuff or comparing ourselves to other people or thinking that we are good enough to do things on our own), but instead we are transformed by the renewing of our minds – when our minds are set on Christ, they are renewed, just like being thirsty and then getting water – and then we can see more clearly what God wants us to do because we are in tune with His calling. We don’t have all those things of the earth blocking Him out anymore, because He renewed our minds (Romans 12:2). We are able to think about the blessings we have instead of all the terrible things going on – whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy things – those are what we dwell on (Philippians 4:8). And the verses before that (Philippians 4:6-7) shows us that when we prayerfully submit to God instead of choosing anxiousness, He renews our minds by granting us the peace that surpasses our understanding, which guards our hearts. In other words, when we are being fulfilled by that Living Water, God gives us the ability to dwell in Him and the fact that He is enough. We don’t have to be anxious anymore about stuff, and we don’t have to want anything else. Even when things don’t make any sense, and we should, according to regular people, be freaking out about them, God’s renewing of our minds gives us a peace that doesn’t make any sense to anybody else.

This peace is the contentment that I ache for. It’s the opposite of my thirst. And the beautiful thing is – I don’t even have to renew my own mind! I just have to choose to drink the water that is right there next to me, and the Holy Spirit does all the work.

As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me all day long, “Where is your God?” These things I remember as I pour out my soul: how I used to go to the house of God under the protection of the Mighty One with shouts of joy and praise among the festive throng. Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. My soul is downcast within me; therefore I will remember you from the land of the Jordan, the heights of Hermon – from Mount Mizar. Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me – a prayer to the God of my life. I say to God my Rock, “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy?” My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me, saying to me all day long, “Where is your God?” Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.

Psalm 42



Whole30 Day 1 Breakfast

Whole30 Day 1 Breakfast

I’ve been having trouble lately with the blog, mostly because I’m having trouble in my spiritual life. I think we all have seasons where we are not actively seeking God like we were in the previous season. I’ve felt so empty and sad and alone for a couple of months. Part of this is my post-partum depression (hooray!), which is a daily battle. But some of it is just my choice – I’m choosing other things over spending time with God. Which is the dumbest thing to do and also the easiest thing to do.

Anyway, after a week of really low days, I decided it was time to make a life change. I also realized that I only have this year left to run a marathon in order to complete my By-the-Time-I’m-30 Bucket List, so I decided that the best way to combat depression and meet my goal was to start marathon training. Around the same time, Husband and I realized that we are lethargic and sleeping poorly and with my depression on top of that, we aren’t doing so great. So after prayerful consideration, we have committed to give a shot to this Whole30 nightmare thing.

My fears:

  • I am now going to have to cook 3 meals a day. I was previously cooking approximately 1/2 a meal per day on average.
  • This might be expensive if I’m not super smart.
  • The part of me that dreads having to be super smart (the part that knows I’ll have to be disciplined and routined and scheduled ) is very sad about this.

My joys:

  • Cooking is fun!
  • Eating delicious food is fun!
  • Eating delicious food that is healthy is extra fun – two for one special!
  • My body is going to react well to this, probably.
  • I have known for a while that I’m lactose intolerant and I avoid it because I HEART cheese, but this way I’ll have at least 30 recipes that don’t involve cheese and we’ll see if they are delicious enough to bear cutting it completely from my life.

Okay, enough yapping. Time for food.

Oh, but one more thing: I stink at taking food pictures. This isn’t a food blog. So excuse the ugly picture and trust that the food tastes delicious.

Turkey “Italian Sausage” Breakfast Meatloaf


1 T coconut oil
1 large yellow onion, diced
1 1.2 lb package of Fit ‘N Active Ground Turkey (ALDI YALL)
2 eggs
1/2 cup almond flour (this is the weirdest, most difficult to find ingredient on the list, that’s for sure. If you aren’t whole30-ing it, just use regular flour or breadcrumbs)
1 T garlic powder
2 tsp fennel seeds
2 tsp oregano
2 tsp sage
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes


Preheat oven to 450.
Cook the onion in the coconut oil over medium heat until soft and translucent, about 5-7 minutes.
Combine all ingredients into a large bowl. Smush with your hands, because FUN and because GROSS. Make into a loaf shape.
Prep a cookie sheet with oil. Put the loaf on the cookie sheet.
Bake in the oven for about 30-35 minutes.
(Fun fact: this is better if you make it the night before and then quickly fry up the slices the next morning for breakfast)

Fry eggs to go on top and YUM.

We ate grapes with ours because fruit is good for you.


Hope you enjoy!

Guerilla Grace

Guerilla Grace

All right guys, I’m weighing in. God give me grace in my words. Yes, I meant to spell “guerilla” like that, because this kind of grace is rough and tough and unkempt and difficult, but beautifully successful when done well.
If you’re mad at that mom for her kid falling into the gorilla enclosure, I get it. She should have been watching him more carefully. There are a million tiny things that could have gone differently that would have yielded better results, or at least less heartbreaking results than a beloved gorilla’s death. But you really need to understand that the mom most certainly feels enough guilt on her own. We fret and freak and worry and blame ourselves for everything that ever happens to our kids, and we don’t need the entire world’s blame added to that. We spend some much time completely petrified, and that fear is often justified when our kids get into dangerous situations or don’t make the best choices. Trust me, her guilt is punishment enough, and there is no need to crucify her.

I’m very sad that anyone was put in a position where they felt the need to kill the gorilla Harambe. It is so, so sad, and infuriating, and sickening. But the situation was also an accident. Kids are sneaky and unpredictable and honestly very stupid at that age. Their brains haven’t developed enough to understand how to keep themselves out of danger. And moms get judged when kids that old are in strollers and when kids that old are on leashes or being worn. Or if they are on leashes or being worn or in strollers and are screaming, we get judged that we aren’t a good enough parent to keep our kid happy, so yeah, she was already going to be judged anyway. You can’t say “I would never have let that happen” because you can’t control everything and terrible accidents do happen. If nothing like this ever happened to your kid, it was your lucky stars, or the grace of God, or however you want to think of it. It wasn’t because you are a superior parent.

I am saddened by our society’s constant need to find someone to blame when something goes wrong. This was an accident. A million tiny things could have prevented it, but it happened. It still happened. And there is no point getting all worked up about what “should have been,” because what “should have been” isn’t what happened. What happened is what happened. And now let’s please extend some grace to a person who I’m sure is feeling worse by herself than even the whole world is trying to make her feel.

When Ellie was 10 months old, she fell down our entire flight of basement stairs because I left the door open when I went to change out laundry. It was horrifying – she completely flipped over 3 times like a rag doll and landed hard on her back. I held her and cried my eyes out for 30 minutes after I made sure she was okay. There was no gorilla to drag her around (whether playfully or violently) at the bottom, and there was no one watching to tell me a million times how horrible of a mom I was being. And I’m still sick to my stomach when I think about it. I could’ve, I should’ve, I would’ve – it doesn’t matter because it happened. 

We have to learn how to call an accident an accident, or a terrible dilemma a terrible dilemma, instead of finding the need to place the blame on someone. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t the zoo’s fault, it wasn’t Harambe’s fault. It happened.

Now Christians, remember how I said “crucify her” above? You know where that phrase comes from. Someone was already crucified, someone who never did anything wrong or worth crucifying. He did it for me – so that I don’t have to be blamed for all the terrible things that I do – not the accidents even, but the terrible things I do on purpose. The times when I choose myself over the needs of others. The times when I do or say the nasty thing instead of the kind thing. He died for me, and he died for you, and he died for that mom. So these words are especially for you if you are a Christian, because you’ve already come face to face with your sin and shame and chosen to accept the grace extended to you for no good reason other than love. So please consider choosing to extend that same grace to this woman that was freely lavished upon you. We can choose kindness and grace and love even in our sorrow. Kind of like what God did for us.

An Announcement 


This is long, but I’m excited about the announcement that comes at the end of all the backstory so I hope you’ll suffer through and read the whole thing.

In spring of 2002, I stood among hundreds of girls in the Southern Division Regional Honor Choir in either Virginia or North Carolina (I can’t remember) and auditioned for a small ensemble of 16 singers for one of the pieces. Anton Armstrong kindly told me I had a lovely voice, and I would never be the same again. I was good at something, and I was hooked.In the spring of 2003, Moses Hogan was supposed to conduct the Mississippi All State Honor Choir, but he died just a few weeks before. We dedicated the concert to him, and there was such a presence of reverence and respect and awe and sadness in the room. So many adults were crying. There was something healing about the music that brought mourning people peace, and I was hooked.

In January of 2004, the Illinois All State Chorus sang the Finale from the Gondoliers, and we filled the room with joy. It was silliness and laughter and joy from music, and I was hooked.

In January of 2005, Edith Copley conducted the men in the Illinois All State Honors Chorus to sing The Awakening. I sat among those men, their voices surrounding me, as they sang, “Awake, awake my soul and sing! The time for praise has come. The silence of the night has passed, a new day has begun. Let music never die in me, forever let my spirit sing, wherever emptiness is found let there be joy and glorious sound! Awake, awake! Let music live! Let music live!” That was the moment. I clearly remember deciding in that moment that I was officially never going to stop with the whole choir thing. If I could just give anyone the experience that I’d had through choirs in high school, I would be a success, and in that attempt, I was going to go to college to pursue vocal music education.

I went to college and had even more amazing choral experiences. I was lucky and blessed and obsessed, like singing Praise to the Lord on the Great Wall of China. Then some things happened that resulted in a student teaching placement of only K-8 instead of high school, and I was pretty disappointed. But it turned out that elementary music was a really fun, different, challenging experience, and I really enjoyed it. But my dream of never giving up on the choir thing never disappeared. It was just swept under the rug in favor of my love for the littles and a budding romance with the love of my life. There was even a point where I was just so content where I was, and I didn’t even feel the need to move up to “meat and potatoes” music.

I learned so much teaching elementary school. Endless patience, unconditional love, a deep care and passion for young children are a few things. I was able to mature into a mom figure instead of feeling so very young. But my desire to dig deeper into music with older children never really left me.

In that light, I am beyond thrilled (and terrified and nervous and nauseated and joyful and quite a few other emotions) to tell you that I’ll be returning to teaching in the fall after a wonderful, restful year off to Riverton High School as the Vocal Music Director. And as if I’m not spoiled enough to see my 14-year-in-the-making dream come true, I’ll be teaching only 4 classes a day and home with my kiddos for the rest of the day, truly experiencing the best of both worlds. And to top it off, I get to be at the district where I’ve grown and learned so much. And as a cherry on top of even that, my freshmen will be the kids who were in fourth grade my first year at Riverton.

It may seem dramatic to you, but to me, it’s a miracle and an answer to a long-running, fervent prayer. To God be all the glory. Let music live!

Park Thoughts

Park Thoughts

We’re on vacation in Clearwater, Florida, so I’ve been taking a break from writing. Today, we all (sister, her husband, her daughter, my husband, my kids, and me) went to a park near the little apartment where we are staying. It was a sweet, shaded place with age-appropriate jungle gyms for my very happy two-and-a-half year old Hurricane.

My daughter has been kind of sicky, so I was wearing her and resting with a portable fan while hubs played with Hurricane. I watched him interact with a little 3-year-old girl. He liked her. I was thinking about how he comes across and how he will come across to his peers as he grows up. So far, he’s just hilarious to me. I see his strengths – his thoughtfulness, his smarts, his tenderness, his silly silly silliness, his creativity, and his imagination. I see his weaknesses – inability to move on from his favorite tasks without a huge-screaming-end-of-the-world fit, difficulty expresses his feelings and what is hurting him, etc. I mean, he’s like the most normal 2-and-a-half year old on the earth. And I was just thinking, I know him. Like I know everything about him. I know him so, so well. I see exactly who he is, good and bad and ugly and beautiful. And I am overwhelmed with ridiculous, passionate, possessive, crazy love for him. I hope other people will see how fun and funny he is. I hope they’ll like him and love him and value him. I see his worth and his potential to be someone great, who can uniquely show the world God’s glory. Oh, what I hope for him!

I read this cute book with Hurricane before bed many nights, I Love You Through and Through. It says stuff like, “I love your inside, your outside, your happy side, your sad side, your silly side, your mad side…I love you through and through, yesterday, today, and tomorrow, too.” That book is so cute! That is how I feel about him – I know every part of him, and I love every part of him.

And then I realized, again, that God sees me the same way I see my son. He knows exactly who I am, and He has dreams for how I’ll bring Him glory. He knows my inside and my outside, my happy side and my sad side. He knows every bit of me, even the parts that he’s not excited about or proud of. He’s my Father! He’s my parent. Yet. Oh, the yet – it’s just so beautiful. Yet He loves me through and through, yesterday, today, and tomorrow, too.

I forget so often that someone loves me like that. I forget that someone sees my greatest awesomes and my most embarrassing lows, and still wants me the mostest and loves me the bestest. I’m so much like a toddler, too! I can’t quite be who I want to be or communicate what I want to say. But there’s nothing I can mess up that will make Him stop loving me. We make this so complicated to understand, but it’s so simple. Hurricane can throw the most epic, terrible, screamfest fit I’ve ever experienced, and it doesn’t change the way I love him one little bit. If I, in my sinful, decrepit, hopeless ways, can so easily love a writhing, wailing, squawking shell of a creature, surely the infinite God who made the universe can love me even better than that.

The love of God is greater far/Than tongue or pen can ever tell./It goes beyond the highest star/And reaches to the lowest hell.

The guilty pair, bowed down with care,/God gave His Son to win;/His erring child He reconciled/And pardoned from his sin.

When hoary time shall pass away,/And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall;/When men who here refuse to pray,/On rocks and hills and mountains call;

God’s love, so sure, shall still endure,/All measureless and strong;/Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—/The saints’ and angels’ song.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,/And were the skies of parchment made;/Were every stalk on earth a quill,/And every man a scribe by trade;

To write the love of God above/Would drain the ocean dry;/Nor could the scroll contain the whole,/Though stretched from sky to sky.

O love of God, how rich and pure!/How measureless and strong!/It shall forevermore endure—/The saints’ and angels’ song.

Dealing with Depression/Anxiety: Part 3

Dealing with Depression/Anxiety: Part 3

I’ve been writing a mini blog series this week about my experience with Postpartum Depression. You can see the first two posts here and here.

Today I want to write about the hope that I’ve found as I’ve learned to depend on God to renew my mind. Please let me note here quickly that I am NOT saying that praying super hard is going to heal your depression. That is a bit asinine. What I am saying is that the Holy Spirit is powerful, and disciplined practice in God’s word and through prayer, with the added practice of filtering all thoughts through the “God lens,” as I call it, has made an incredible effect on my everyday life, and it has helped me figure out how to cope on a daily basis and fight and WIN over depression.

So you should know that I’m kind of a fighter. I’m a spitfire. I’m fiery. I’m passionate. I hear these things about myself a lot. Forever, I thought this was a negative side of my personality, but I’ve learned to embrace it and control it and bring it out only when needed. Turns out that its a really great benefit, because it makes me a risk-taker and brave and fearless. Sometimes.

When I realized I had depression, I did the whole thing where I snapped three times across the front of my body in a zigzag motion and I was all like “nah-uh! You are not going to win, son!” (Side note: I do this on a daily basis to my actual son. I’m not a regular mom. I’m a cool mom.) My instinct was to fight it. Like, DARN IT I WILL BE HAPPY IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO! Unfortunately, that doesn’t work. So my second instinct was to sink into a personal hole and fall off the face of the earth in the name of binge watching television. That also didn’t work. My third instinct was what should have been my first instinct – taking it to the Guy Who Saved Me and checking out if He could handle it. Turns out He can.

I grew up in church. And not just your regular churcher. I was the Minister of Music’s daughter. I was in various 90s children’s musicals, including Daniel, Darius, and Delion, Nic at Nite, Go, Go Jonah, and Levite Genes. I was in Mississippi state competitive Bible Drill (I can look up ANY verse in the WHOLE BIBLE in less than 10 seconds). I was in Awana (TRUTH…ON THE MARCH!). I was at church at 7am on Sunday mornings, 4 pm on Sunday nights, all night Wednesdays, hospital visitation on Tuesdays. I used to be in the balcony of Bowmar Avenue Baptist Church for youth musical rehearsals while my dad ran the show and my mom played the piano and I’d do their choreography and be jealous that I was only a kid still. Once in 5th grade, my talent at the Awana Campout talent show was to say the books of the bible in less than 20 seconds. I can still do it, too. There was one week in Awana in which I passed 35 seconds in one night because I wanted to finish my book before the end of the year. I grew up listening exclusively to Christian music like Point of Grace, Michael W. Smith, Steven Curtis Chapman, etc. My favorites as a teeny kiddo were the Steve Green Hide ‘Em In Your Heart Songs. I was the queen of “somebody backed out of singing a special at the last second, can you pull something out of thin air to sing for the offertory please?” (thanks to my mom’s piano playing amazingness and my dad’s unlimited repertoire access.) Anyway, I think you get the idea that I was like ultimate kid church nerd over here.

There are, to this day, incredible benefits to this life that I had. One of those is the excessive amount of scripture I was forced to memorize as a child. To illustrate my point, I’ll give you a few off the top of my head that directly apply to what I’m saying right now. “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” “Even a child is known by his actions, by whether his conduct is pure and right.” “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths.” “I have hidden your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you.” “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Most of the Scripture that I still have easily memorized was seared into my brain (and heart) thanks to Steve Green. Shoutout to you, Steve Green! You rule.

And Steve Green’s Hide ‘Em In Your Heart Songs were the first step on my journey to recovery. My parents bought us the CDs for Christmas (you can get them here, and you should, because they are AWESOME no matter your age) for my kids. We have been playing them NON. STOP. These songs are intended for children, and they have typical 90s arrangements (including recorder and flute as featured instruments!). But that doesn’t matter, because guess what? The content is rock solid. I’d even say the content is sword-like. Because it is straight up Scripture, y’all. And you can’t get a better weapon than that.

The best thing about listening to a song that is word-for-word Scripture is that it gets stuck in your head. And the best thing about Scripture getting stuck in your head is that it is literally hidden in your heart, and it comes to mind when you need it.

This is the first way that God healed me.

My mind is a black hole. I think very, very quickly, constantly, never ending. You can probably tell from the high volume of words in my blog posts. My mind and Lorelai Gilmore’s mind are very similar, although I like to think that I generally have a better filter than her (not always, but generally). Because of this, I tend to spin out of control with negative thoughts. Whenever I’m presented with a worry or negative thought, it is like poison. It takes over my entire mind. It makes my heart race. It controls me and it overcomes me. And then I remember (and when I say “I remember,” what I really mean is that God, in all His glory, takes a moment to remind me who I am to Him):

“whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, think about such things. if anything (anything) is excellent (excellent), if anything is praiseworthy (praiseworthy), think about, think about, think about such things!”

“you knit me together in my mother’s womb, you knit me together in my mother’s womb, I praise you, I praise you, you knit me together in my mother’s womb. because I am fearfully and wonderfully made, because I am fearfully and wonderfully made, I praise you, I praise you, because I am fearfully and wonderfully made”

“there is a friend (there is a friend), a friend who sticks (a friend who sticks), closer than a brother! there is a friend (there is a friend), a friend who sticks (a friend who sticks), closer than a brother! an F-R-I-E-N-D who sticks closer than a B-R-O-T-H-E-R, closer than a brother!”

“when I am afraid, I will trust in you, I will trust in you, I will trust in you, when I am afraid I will trust in you, in God whose Word I praise. In God I trust, when I am afraid, in God I trust, in God whose Word I praise.”

“the eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good.”

“do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good, do not be overcome by evil. with good, with good, overcome evil with good.”

“let us not grow weary while doing good, in due season we shall reap. let us not grow weary, while doing good, in due season we shall reap. if we don’t lose heart, if we don’t lose heart, in due season we shall reap, if we don’t lose heart, if we don’t lose heart, in due season we shall reap.”

and my FAVORITE:

“a joyful heart is good medicine, good medicine a joyful heart. a joyful heart is good medicine, a joyful heart is good. but a broken spirit dries up the bones, a broken spirit dries up the bones. a joyful heart is good medicine, good medicine a joyful heart. a joyful heart is good medicine, a joyful heart is good!”

I just did all those off the top of my head. They might not be word for word, and I may have mixed up a few words. But you guys, this is my biggest weapon! Think about that last one.

“A joyful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries up the bones.” Proverbs 17:22.

I love this verse so. much. I think it is so cool that it says that a joyful heart is medicine. We tend to think that a joyful heart is something that just happens, like “oh, I’m feeling joyful today, yay!” But it isn’t. A joyful heart is a conscious choice. Just like I choose to take some Tylenol when I have a headache to dull the pain, a joyful heart is something I can choose to put on when I’m having a broken spirit that is drying up my bones. I can choose to dwell in the joy I have through God’s provision. Joy is not a feeling. It is a choice.

This truth has been astronomically life changing for me. I realized that joy is not the same thing as happiness. Happiness comes and goes like a quick rain. It can quench for a while, but then I’m waiting for more. But joy is, to quote my pastor Jeff, a quiet river. It is always right there, steadily moving, consistently full. It is water that flows from another place, not water I have to make up for myself. I just have to choose to walk over to it, acknowledge it, and drink from it. For me, drinking from it is a change in attitude. It is replacing my sour, poisonous depressive and anxious thoughts with the truth of Scripture. I repeat the Scripture over and over again to myself. It changes my mind. It renews it. It quenches it.

The kicker is that truth is not always happy. The truth is that God allows seasons of heartache for us. Some of our dreams don’t come true. Some people never see earthly prosper. Some people lose everything. Job did. But the truth is that God is there. He is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. There is nothing to fear, because I can trust in God whose word I praise. I don’t have to grow weary, because in due season I will reap (even if that season is not on this earth). I do not have to be overcome by evil, because I can overcome evil with good. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. God is watching everything. He sees me. This is how we know what Love is, Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. These things aren’t happy. They don’t make me go YAHOO. They don’t make me suddenly feel things. But they replace the emptiness with something full and powerful and eternally thirst-quenching.

“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

Dealing with Depression/Anxiety: Part 2

Dealing with Depression/Anxiety: Part 2

So yesterday I posted about what it feels like to have depression and anxiety. Today, I’m going to continue talking about depression and anxiety by discussing what HAS and HAS NOT worked in my treatment.

I noted at the bottom of my post yesterday that I’m a bit of a naturalist, and I don’t like the idea of chemicals entering my body if I can possibly avoid it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-medicine, and medicine really works for some people. I went on an anti-anxiety medicine about 6 years ago, and it made me act INSANE. So I decided to pursue other natural methods when I realized that I had postpartum depression about 2 months after Ellie was born last year. This is a discussion of some of those other methods I’ve used and how they have worked for me.

What Didn’t Work

The first thing that I always go to in dealing with emotional problems is television. You guys, seriously, I love television. I love it so, so much. I love studying the characters of shows, I love giggling at the ridiculous things they get themselves into, and most of all, I love escaping the pain or numbness of my actual world by delving wholeheartedly into their fictional ones. Some of my favorite TV shows, all of which I’ve watched entire series (or acceptable portions of the series, hello, One Tree Hill seasons 7-9 no thanks) multiple times, all have interesting characters with way worse problems than mine. Or way sillier problems. Which, you know, I think is the whole point of TV. The problem is this, though: I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I am addicted to television because it fills the void and gives me feelings when I have none. It is an actual addiction. I looked up symptoms of addiction, and I fit them.

Most of the symptoms of addiction that I found are related to substance abuse, but let’s assume that the substance is television instead of a drug or alcohol or medication. Some symptoms are:

-patient is unable to control the use of the substance, cannot stop taking it
-patient has physical and/or mood swings from withdrawal when not taking the substance, including cravings toward it, moodiness, bad temper, inability to focus on other tasks, feeling empty without it, frustrated about other things, angry, bitter, and resentful of anything that takes the patient away from the substance
-even if the patient knows that the substance is harming him or herself and/or his or her relationships, he or she still takes the substance
-patient makes social and/or recreational sacrifices in favor of using the substance
-patient feels the need for the substance in order to deal with problems
-an obsession with obtaining the substance
-the patient often knows that others notice and is embarrassed about the addiction, which results in secrecy and solitude while using the substance

I regularly do all of these things with TV shows. I sacrifice social and recreational time to secretly watch TV. I can’t stop myself from starting a new episode when one is over. I have mood swings and feel irritated when I want to watch the TV show but can’t because of other responsibilities. I find ways to watch the show while doing other tasks so that I don’t have to stop. I feel like I can’t deal with issues, so I escape by watching TV. I feel anxious when I don’t have Netflix available to me while waiting to do something. I know that I’m addicted to TV and I’m embarrassed at how bad it is, so I secretly watch the show when I’m away from others so they don’t know how often I’m watching it.

Fortunately, TV isn’t quite as damaging of an obsession as drugs and alcohol could be, and it is very unlikely that I’ll reach the point where I could overdose and literally die from watching too much TV, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not truly addicted to it. I read an article recently that discussed some research that points to the possibility that people with depression will often look for something to fill the emptiness they feel, so they are more likely to become addicted to things. While I’m not proud of my TV habit, I’m at least thankful that I didn’t look toward drugs and alcohol to fill that void (thanks, all those years of Red Ribbon Week!).

While it is a problem to sacrifice social relationships and time that needs to be spent on other things to binge watch a fictional television show, the real problem is that it doesn’t solve my depression issues. I escape for a while and feel better, but as soon as I stop watching TV and go on with my life, the empty weight comes back, and then I feel the need to watch TV to escape it again. It is a never ending cycle, and it doesn’t solve the problem.

If you are fighting depression and anxiety, is there something in your life that you are using to escape? It is probably not working. Consider that you might not be addicted to drugs or alcohol or an actual substance, but instead you might be addicted to something else. A game on your phone? TV, like me? Know from my experience that the false idols (that’s right, they are idols, because you are valuing them more than you value God’s calling for your life) are never going to fulfill you, and they are never going to make your depression and anxiety go away.

What Does Work

It’s going to sound super cliche, but God is what works. And that probably seems like a cop-out. And it probably seems really un-relatable and impractical. But seriously, a relationship with Christ is the answer. I’m going to talk about these in more detail in the final portion of my blog mini series, but I’m going to highlight them quickly here.

The answer to my depression – the tools and armor and weapons that have worked to fight my symptoms – are TRUTH and GRACE.


The best answer that I’ve found in dealing with depression has been getting down to the root of what is giving me the symptoms. For example, about 2 years ago, a friend of mine really upset me. I was very angry about what had happened, but I didn’t want to damage the relationship. My counselor and I talked about what had happened, and it was revealed to me that the root of the issue was that I felt disrespected by what had gone on. The truth was that I was upset because I felt like that friend didn’t value me or my ability to make responsible, adult decisions and valued herself more than me. Another time, I was having feelings of anxiety, and I couldn’t figure out why, but everything seemed overwhelming and my heart was nonstop racing. I traced back my train of thought until I remembered that I had briefly remembered a very scary and difficult thing that Husband and I had gone through several years before. When I figured out the truth of why I was having my anxiety, I was able to take control of it.

Again, I’m going to dive into this more tomorrow, but the biggest thing that helps in the Truth category is Scripture. Scripture is truth, and replacing whatever anxious or hopeless thoughts I’m having with Scripture works amazingly well. I’ll outline my train of Scripture thought tomorrow.


One of the big problems with my depression is that I feel unworthy, ugly, useless, pointless, and just not enough. And the truth is that I am those things. I am not worthy of all the blessings I have. I am proud and arrogant and full of myself. I think of myself first to the detriment of others. I can be hateful and rude. I think nasty, selfish, jealous things about other people all the time. I am truly depraved. This is called sin. And we all do it. And we’re all unworthy.

A lot of times I hear people say, “Don’t feel unworthy. You are enough.” This always frustrated me. I would think, But the whole point is that I am NOT enough! So saying that doesn’t help! Then I realized the truth of grace (oh snap, that’s putting both my weapons together!). The truth is that I really am unworthy. But God is the King of Grace. He loves me anyway. He wants to be with me even though I can be so nasty and selfish and proud and sinful and depraved. So he found a way for justice to be served by sacrificing his perfect, sinless, totally worthy Son in my place. Grace is that I got the gift that Jesus actually deserved. So the truth is not that I am enough. The truth is that Christ is enough. And that’s what Grace is. Oh boy, how beautiful. How incredibly, wonderfully, terribly beautiful.

When the Holy Spirit helps me to pair the truth of Scripture – the reality of who I am and the beauty of who God sees when he looks at me (that’s Jesus, y’all! He sees me like I’m his perfect, spotless Son!) with the amazing Grace that I just don’t deserve, my emptiness is filled with hope. And that renews my mind.

“Do not be conformed any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is – his good, pleasing, and perfect will.” Romans 12:2

I think we so often look at this verse and think about changing from being bad, sinful Christians to good, doing-the-right-thing Christians. But I think this verse is so much more than that! The pattern of this world is emptiness and self-service. When my mind is renewed in God’s truth and grace, I can see what God has for me – I can see his good, pleasing, and perfect will in my life. I can see the good in my depression. I can see that going through this has given me a unique opportunity to share the experience with others and help them find His solution, too. And if I have to go through fire and get really burned in order to help other burn victims, then so be it.

Glory be to God.

Dealing with Depression/Anxiety: Part 1

Dealing with Depression/Anxiety: Part 1

I’ve always been a Negative Nelly, but my hopeless feelings about life have really gotten out of hand over the past few years, especially since giving birth a year ago to my daughter. It turns out that I have Postpartum Depression! Hooray for me (sarcasm is an important part of my life as a Negative Nelly)!

This isn’t a popular topic to discuss, really, because nobody wants to be the big ole whiner of the group. But I’m afraid in our understanding as a society that whiners are annoying people who are frustrating to be around, we are missing some important opportunities to learn how to understand a group of people who have a legitimate chemical issue that is overwhelmingly difficult to overcome. And some of those people, in their attempt to not be the whiner of the group, suffer totally in silence when they really need help.

Depression and Anxiety are different for every person, so I don’t think that what I’m going to talk about here necessarily applies to every sufferer. I do think that sharing my experiences about what it feels like, what helps and what hurts it, and how I have learned to cope and even overcome it may provide someone a new view into life with depression or possibly provide hope for someone else who is struggling, so I’ve decided to write a 3-part blog mini series about my PPD. Here’s part 1: What It Feels Like.

What It Feels Like

It is difficult to contextualize what depression feels like. I’ve heard lots of people talk about how it’s not just feeling especially sad (like The Office, lol, hope you’ve seen that one, “Dwight, you ignorant slut”) but that it’s more than that. Sure, it feels sad sometimes. Gloomy. In the dumps. But it’s just more involved than that. It feels heavy, like everything normal is just harder to do. Everything feels overwhelming. I’ll look at my dishes in the sink and have a panic attack (anxiety) and feel utterly hopeless (depression) because doing those dishes just feels impossible. I often know that I’m being irrational, and I even think that in the moment (Mel, you’re being irrational, dishes are not that difficult and they only take a few minutes to finish), but I can’t seem to shake the feeling of being overwhelmed. It feels like I’m doing normal things, but I have to do those things while wearing a house on my head. It’s just heavy. This is really the best way I can describe it.

I’m also naturally a pessimist (which is not the same thing as being depressed, by the way), so I will face normal, everyday tasks with a feeling of pointlessness. What’s the point of doing this, it’s just going to result in [insert difficult-to-deal-with thing here]? And there’s a sense of anger involved, like why can’t I just be happy? I wish I was just happier and more laid back and just could deal with things better. Often, when dealing with my depression symptoms, I will still see everything wonderful in my life. I’ll notice my beautiful children and how wonderful they are, how smart, how magical it is that they are learning so much everyday, how silly they are, how joyful they are. And I’ll notice that I have a beautiful home, a great support system, wonderful friends and family, and an amazing God. I’ll see His blessings, and I’ll know it is there. But the stupid thing about depression is that I can see all of those things, but I can’t seem to be glad about them. I know they are good things, but I just don’t have any feelings toward them. There is an emptiness involved. This is a frustrating place to be, because often advice toward people with depression is “just focus on the positive things in your life, and it’ll make you feel better.” Well, that sometimes just doesn’t work. I can see and focus on all the positive things in my life like crazy, but it doesn’t change my resting hopelessness.

Sometimes, I’ll be doing some regular old task, and I’ll think for a fleeting moment about something. Sometimes it is random, and other times it is triggered by something I see (like in my Facebook newsfeed, for example, this seems to happen a lot). For example, I’ll suddenly remember a situation in which I said something or did something stupid or hurtful to someone. This is a normal thing for me, because I am the queen of putting my foot in my mouth on accident and then stressing out about it for weeks later. My heart will start to race. I’ll keep looking through Facebook and I’ll start thinking about something else. 10 minutes will pass, but I’m still feeling very upset and my heart is still racing, and I can’t remember why I’m upset. This is extremely common for me. And a lot of times, I won’t even be able to register what it was that triggered the anxiety, which results in hopeless frustration and the cycle restarts.

The most frustrating thing about anxiety and depression for me is undoubtedly how stupid and irrational it is. I am a very logical person. I believe in truth and reason. They matter to me and guide me. I think God made us with the ability to reason because logic is a helpful tool in difficult situations. So when logic, truth, and reason don’t change how I feel about things, I get kind of mad. I don’t want to feel this way. I’m sick and tired of feeling hopeless and overwhelmed. I’m annoyed at myself that I just can’t seem to beat it. I’m irritated at society which teaches that positive thinking just changes everything. And so I start to get mad. The anger is really the way that my depression starts to show to the rest of the world. I snap at people and get short tempered. I’m angry with myself for my dumb depression. I’m much less forgiving and kind and patient when I let my depression win. Or, what is even more common – I’ll crawl into a deep hole and not let any part of myself show. This was my standard coping mechanism for about 10 years (during which I never realized that I might have had depression). Being so afraid of being rejected for my irrational feelings of depression, and being so afraid of being unworthy of people’s love and attention, I sank back into a shell of myself with no defining features worth anyone’s time. When I look back, it is a miracle that anyone cared for me, and I praise God for those unconditional friends and teachers every day.

So to sum up, depression and anxiety feel heavy. They make regular things feel harder or even impossible. I often can’t remember why I’m feeling anxious, but my body still has symptoms. I get frustrated that my feelings are illogical. I get angry at myself, which displaces into anger at others. I crawl into my personal hole and reduce contact with people whenever possible.

After reading all of this, you are probably thinking “Boy, that’s frustrating” or possibly “Geez, you’re a hopeless whiner.” And that’s what I’m thinking, too! So you are not alone! But I want you to know something important about my depression:

It is not winning.

Hope wins, you guys.

I want you to know my philosophy on life as I finish this post. There is so much hope. I believe in God. I believe He is a powerful God who loves me endlessly, remarkably, sacrificially, amazingly. I believe that I do not deserve this love. Inherently, I am worth crap because I am full of sin. I mess up all the time infinity amounts and to epic proportions, and because of those mess ups, I am not worthy to be in God’s presence. God wants me in His presence anyway. He loves me anyway. And that truth is enough to live off. I have depression and a little bit of anxiety. But I am loved, loved, loved, loved, loved beyond a shadow of a doubt, beyond any understanding that I can have, beyond any reason or logic. I know that this is true, and that truth keeps me going through the day, through the symptoms of depression, through the spells of anxiety, through the feelings of hopelessness. That basic, utter truth is enough for me to find all the hope and peace and joy in the world. But it is a matter of choosing that truth even when it doesn’t change my feelings about things – that’s the battle of my depression.

So now that you have a basic understanding of what my depression and anxiety feel like, be on the lookout for my follow-up post about how I’ve been treating it.

Side Note: I’m not a big medicine taker, so I was very reluctant to start any medication to treat my depression, especially since I was breastfeeding at the time when we realized that I have it. So I sought after natural methods. Natural methods do not work for everyone. Some people really, really need the medicine. I will tell you that a deciding factor for me that I didn’t need medication was that I definitely have clinically diagnosed postpartum depression, but I’ve never once seriously considered ending my life. I feel like my life is pointless a lot of the time, but I know that there are too many people who love me desperately and depend on me daily. My life is too important, even when it feels hopeless. If you have thoughts of suicide, please understand that your life is too important. Don’t give it up. Don’t let depression win. It is stupid and dumb, and you are not. If you need medication, please take it (in the appropriate amounts and at the appropriate times of day). If not, you probably still need treatment. I sought treatment through Christian counseling and a few personal disciplines, and I’m starting to realize that there are connections in my depression to what I eat and do each day (diet and exercise greatly make a difference). I’m realizing that our bodies are more connected to our minds than we realize.


Remembering Him

Remembering Him

It’s a post for grown-ups!

Time for honesty: my family is having a hard time right now. On January 1, my husband’s company was bought out by a new company. He’s in sales, and the new company does commission differently than the old company, which has resulted in our income dropping in almost half. Needless to say, this has been very frustrating. We’re living off his income while I’m home this year, so when it dropped in half, it is not quite covering our mortgage and food and bills and that is literally it.

These kinds of situations happen a lot. And I’m sure they happen to a lot of people. On top of this, we have a major wasp problem (they keep getting into the house!), we need to fix all the screens over the windows in our house, and there is a place at the corner of our basement (toward the outside wall – it’s a walk-out – this isn’t even the part of the basement where water should be a problem! It goes downhill away from this place!!!) where water is getting in. The carpet is wet and there is black mold on the walls. We don’t know where the water is coming in, and we know we’re going to have to replace the wall piece, the carpet (because of microbes, how fun!), and possibly the studs that are probably ruined from it. Sometimes, I look at the wasps’ nest, too high for me to reach, and I see dollar signs instead of wasps. Sometimes, I look at that corner of the basement and I see dollar signs instead of water damage. But there are no dollars. Just none.

I want a beach. I want a cruise. I want to buy brand name groceries sometimes. I want to eat out for dinner like more than once a month. I want to buy my kids those adorable outfits and 85 Thirty-One bags and go on a nice trip to St. Louis and do fun things! I want to take my kids to the local kid play place that is $10 per visit per kid! I want new carpet in the living room and bedrooms instead of 25 year old hopelessly stained. I want the do the backsplash in the kitchen. I want to paint the double-ceilinged walls. I know I’m whining. I feel like it just isn’t so much to ask to have enough money to, like, fix things and buy stuff and do things.

These are the kinds of hard times I am having, and I think these are the most normal hard times. The kind where everything is actually fine and you are totally okay when you step back and look at the big picture, but you are in a waiting period for something better and/or different. These times are when God closes all the doors and all the windows and you are waiting somewhere uncomfortable and a little claustrophobic just waiting to get out. It’s totally possible to live off this minuscule dollar amount that my husband is working his butt off for 45 hours a week for. We don’t need any more stuff. We have overstuffed our basement until it is bursting, we have 10 times as much clothing as anyone could dream of, we have food that goes bad regularly because we never get around to eating it, our freezer and fridges are completely stuffed, its nice and warm (or nice and cool depending on the day) in our home, we have internet access and Netflix and Amazon Prime and a giant mac desktop that I’m currently typing on. I paused this writing to check my iPhone 6 earlier and then played a Solitaire golf game for a bit. These things are super, totally, completely normal, and they are total luxuries. I don’t need any of this.

Somehow, in all this totally normal luxury, I feel like I’m less. I feel unworthy of my friends when they have more than me. I always feel like I have to defend my ugly, stained carpet, and they don’t even notice it until I point it out! I don’t even profess to be materialistic! I cloth diaper and recycle and compost, for goodness’ sake. I want chickens and goats. I think my house is too big and we’re seriously considering downsizing. But all I want is new living room carpet and the back fence to be finished and pretty furniture and a maid and Joanna Gaines to be my personal designer.

So, here I sit, knowing that I’m a total hypocrite. I know that God has blessed us so much, and I see His blessing and remarkable provision every day. I forgot to “count my blessings, name them one by one. Count my blessings, see what God has done, count my many blessings, name them one by one, count my many blessings see what God has done.” So trivial. So obvious. And yet I so often forget. Like every day.

You know, Christ told us to get together often and take the bread and cup in remembrance of Him. I think we’re supposed to do it often because we forget Him.

I think it is important to remember this specific thing: I don’t deserve cruises  or beaches or brand-name groceries or restaurants or day trips to St. Louis. I don’t deserve my too-big house or my iPhone or my mac desktop or my internet access or my Netflix or my Amazon Prime account. I don’t deserve my car, even with 200,000 miles on it. I don’t deserve a wonderful husband who works so diligently regardless of his pay. I don’t deserve the giggles and smiles of two precious offspring. Nor do I deserve the food in my fridge stuffed full, or my health that I’ve never once been consciously thankful for. I don’t deserve friendships.

I deserve death. I know it sounds over-the-top and a little ridiculous, but it is the cold, hard truth. I deserve nothing but death.

For my idolization of earthly things.
For my coveting and jealousy.
For setting other Gods above Him.
For lying.
For stealing.
For my subtle slander of those I don’t like.
For hoarding blessings from those who are truly in need by buying myself another _________ instead of giving to ___________.
For angry retaliation, for instinctual negative reactions, for snapping instead of giving grace.

My ugly, dirty heart deserves death. All of my regular, everyday sin should separate me from God. I should be His enemy. But I’m not.

Oh blessed Jesus, I don’t deserve You. You gave Your life for me, You gave Your death for me, You gave eternity to me.

I must take the bread and cup, and I must remember You. I need to commune with You every minute, or else I’ll be sure to forget that a small salary and penny-pinching times are not the same as lack of blessing.

We are incredibly, extremely, astronomically blessed. In fact, I paused from writing this post for a few hours, during which I spun my 2.5 year old in circles singing “the enemy is under Your feet, we are free, we are free, death has been defeated by Love, You overcome, You overcome.” It hit me while I was mindlessly singing: I am feeling stuck and jailed and burdened by our money issues, and yet I am more free than I could ever imagine.

I seriously think we can figure it out. I can’t let my American Dream replace God’s dreams for me. They are simpler in so many ways, but a million times more rewarding.

So the question is this: in these tough times, while I’m waiting to feel a little more secure, who will my security rest in?

In 2 Corinthians 12, Paul has these amazing revelations about heaven. During the time, God gives him a thorn in his flesh which torments him. I’m not sure if this was a physical thorn or not, but it was definitely a spiritual one. Paul says that the thorn was given to him that he may not become conceited. I like to think that Paul was battling with himself about how great he was (in addition to a possibly literal thorn). This was torment for him, constantly trying to overcome his sinful nature, knowing that he was awesome but desiring to take the credit for his awesomeness and specialness instead of giving that credit to God. He pleaded with the Lord three times to remove it from him, but the Holy Spirit’s response was “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” And then Paul says, “Therefore I will boast all the more in my weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

I think the key here is that God didn’t take the thorn away right then. He said that the thorn isn’t what matters – His power is. His grace is. He’s like, “I get it. The thorn hurts. But I’m more than that. I’m enough, even when the thorn is still there. Abide with me while the thorn is still there.”

We totally know this, but it is truly profound to dwell in it. When I’m put in hard situations like that, I have no other choice but to lean on God, and He comes through EVERY TIME. He comes through EVERY TIME. HE. COMES. THROUGH. EVERY. TIME. He doesn’t always take it away, but His power comes through in my weakness. He is strong when I am weak.

So here’s the thing: if everything sucks forever, and everything is taken away from me to the very (brand-name) shirt on my back, He is enough.
If I die right this minute, He is enough.
If I live for a long time with very little, in a daily struggle to survive, with physical pain and sickness and my family is gone and I’m completely alone, He is enough.
And the more likely scenario – if I’m blessed beyond measure with basic needs, a beautiful and wonderful family, an incredible church home, a too-big house with too much stuff in it, an Instagram post from my iPhone that says #blessed after every adorably filtered photo of my privileged life, He is enough.

Or when I’m feeling very overwhelmed as I penny pinch,
another doctor bill comes as a surprise or something else expensive in the house breaks,
or as I compare how little I have to some of my pals who, it seems, have everything,
or when I think I’m just not as good of a parent as my friend,
or I wonder if I’ll ever know comfortable comfort,
and I know that I am just not enough,

He is enough.

Now, Lord, let me remember to commune with you. With every bit of bread and every sip of cup, let me remember who You are to me and what You have done.

“Not because of who I am, but because of what You’ve done. Not because of what I’ve done, but because of who You are.”

Your grace is enough.

Galatians 2 (For Kids)

Galatians 2 (For Kids)


You should know a little bit of background information before you read the beginning of this chapter. Before Jesus came, God made a promise called a covenant to the people of Israel (we call them Jewish people). God’s promise was to make Abraham’s family really huge and that Abraham’s family would be God’s people forever, and they would be with Him forever. Abraham’s part of the deal was to become circumcised. This is pretty gross, but it’s important to know. Circumcision is to cut off a piece of skin on the end of a boy’s private part (his penis). I bet it is pretty painful! Every single Jewish man got circumcised, most when they were eight days old and their family promised God that they would raise them to know Him. In Paul’s time, if someone decided to become Jewish, even if he was a grown up, he had to get circumcised. Think of what it stands for – you remove a part of yourself even though it hurts because God is the most important thing to you.  There were lots of arguments in the church right after Jesus went back up to heaven about whether or not people who became Christians should have to be circumcised. Some people insisted that everybody just HAD to get circumcised in order to be a Christian. Other people said that Jesus was all they needed to believe in, and they didn’t need to become circumcised in order to be a Christian. It was finally decided that getting circumcised was an okay thing to do, but it didn’t make you a Christian.

Another argument that happened was related to food. The old Law from the Old Testament said that Jewish people could only eat certain meats because some animals were clean and some animals were unclean in God’s eyes, so for a long, long time, Jewish people only ate certain foods. As non-Jewish people started to become Christians, Jewish people weren’t sure whether they had to keep following the rules about eating or if they could eat whatever they wanted with the non-Jewish people. There was a lot of arguing about this, too. Some people insisted that everybody just HAD to follow the old rules about what they could eat in order to be a Christian, to the point where they couldn’t even eat at the same table as the Gentiles (non-Jewish people) because they were unclean just by being around it. Other people said that Jesus was all they needed to believe in, and what they ate wasn’t as important. It was finally decided that eating food that had been unclean before was an okay thing to do, but it didn’t make you a Christian. 

What makes you a Christian is your choice to follow Jesus and to try to be like Him. What makes you a Christian is your faith – that is, believing that Jesus is real, that He told the truth while He preached on earth, and that His death saves you from your sins. All the other stuff is extra. That doesn’t mean it is necessarily bad, and it doesn’t mean it is automatically good. But this is important to keep in mind because Paul talks about these things a lot because it was stuff that the early church members were always arguing about.

Galatians 2

After fourteen years, I went back to Jerusalem, and I took my friends Barnabus and Titus with me. I went because God showed me in a vision that I should go. I met one-on-one with people who others looked up to as leaders and told them the story of Jesus as I had been telling it, because I wanted to make sure that what I was saying was correct and true, and I wanted them to hear the correct and true story. Even though they heard the message, not even Titus wanted to be circumcised. He wasn’t Jewish, so he wasn’t circumcised, but he still didn’t want to do it. This whole issue of circumcision became a problem because some people were pretending to be Christians to try to start fights with us. They wanted to catch us doing things that were against the old Jewish rules. But we have freedom because of Jesus. He stands in the place of the old law, so we don’t have to be stuck following it anymore. We are free instead of slaves. We didn’t give in to the spies at all, because we wanted the truth of the story of Jesus to be kept true for you to hear.

Anyway, those leaders who I told my story to – by the way, even though they are leaders, that doesn’t make a difference to me, because God doesn’t pick favorites – those leaders didn’t add anything or change anything about the good news I was telling, so I know it was correct and true. Instead, they felt the Holy Spirit telling them that I was specifically supposed to keep telling the good news of Jesus to people who haven’t been circumcised, the same way that they felt the Holy Spirit telling them that Peter was specifically supposed to keep telling the good news of Jesus to people who had already been circumcised. So the Jews to become Christians were for Peter, and the non-Jews (sometimes we call non-Jews Gentiles) were for me. James, Peter, and John, three of those leaders, gave a blessing and friendship promise to Barnabus and me when they realized what the Holy Spirit was telling them. They agreed with our plan: I would go to non-Jews, and they would go to the circumcised people. They just asked that we would keep helping the poor, which was a great idea to me, because helping the poor is so important to me.

Unfortunately, I had to stand up to Peter later on because he was not doing the right thing. A while before, he had eaten meals happily with non-Jewish people. But when some special people got there, Peter stopped eating with the Gentiles (non-Jewish people) because he was afraid of what the Jewish circumcised people would say. The other Jews were afraid of this, too, and even Barnabas got confused about it.

This idea that we have to follow the old laws about eating is not part of the true story of Jesus! When I saw that they were acting this way, I had to call Peter out in front of everybody.

So this is what I said to Peter:

Peter, you are Jewish, but you don’t have to follow all of the rules of Judaism (that’s the name of the Jewish faith). How can you force non-Jewish people to follow all those rules when you don’t even have to? We are Jewish, so we know that we get to know God because of our faith, not because of the stuff that we do. Following all the rules doesn’t make any difference, because we know that believing in Jesus is what matters. We can’t ever follow the rules perfectly enough to be good enough. Only Jesus was good enough for God, so He stands in our place. We would have had to follow all the rules, but Jesus followed them all perfectly for us, and then traded his perfectness with our messed-up-ness so that we can know God.
I can see how this would be confusing, though! Does this means we can sin as much as we want and Christ says that’s okay to do? Absolutely not! Does this mean that sin is suddenly perfectly fine to God, just because we are around it in order to tell sinners about Jesus? No way!
Think about it like this: in my sin, I built a house. The house was strong and powerful, but it was nasty and dirty and gross, and no matter what I did to clean it up, I couldn’t get it clean. So I tried to tear it down, but I wasn’t strong enough. Then Christ came, and in His power, He tore down the house. Now I was finally clean because the dirty, nasty, gross house was gone. That’s what it is like now that my sin is gone. But then, let’s say that I try to build the house again myself. Won’t it be clear to everybody around me just how dirty it really is when I start to build it out the dirty, leftover scraps? The old law is like this. Now that Christ took care of the law, He made us perfect by standing in its place. Trying to go back to it just shows how dirty we are. It shows how much we mess up. It shows because we know what it is like to be clean.
Christ replaced the law with Himself. He is the only perfect person. He is the only one who could clean everything up completely. When Christ died, he tore down my house of sin. It was like I died with Him – not my body, but my soul. And since I can’t clean up my house by myself, I don’t live by myself anymore. Christ lives in me instead, and my life is because of Him. I’m still alive in my body; I haven’t really died yet. But my soul died with Christ, and now it is alive again because I believe in Jesus! He loves me and stood in my place. He took the punishment that I deserved so that I can live, so I’m going to live for Him, because it’s the only way I can say thank you. I can’t stop thinking about God giving me a special gift that I don’t deserve – that’s what grace is. God’s grace is that I get to live with him forever even though I deserve to die. If I could be good enough to be with God by myself – you know, if I could get that dirty house clean enough by myself – then it would be like Christ died for no reason!