Click link to hear :  At Your Feet by Melissa Greene

This past year was punctuated by noise. The roar of jet engines as I flew off to another commitment; the clamor of conferees; the cacophony of conversations; my heart pounding as I stood to speak and then the awkward sound of my own voice ringing in my ears.

At home, phones rang, emails alerted, early morning alarms blared. Even in the quiet moments, the sound of my nails tapping the keyboard as characters whispered dialogue in my mind, kept me engaged.

Underneath it all, in the deep recesses of my soul, discontent grew—a nagging longing—a deep loneliness.

I am Mary. But I was living Martha’s life.

And I was desperately missing sitting at Jesus’ feet and simply…listening.

To Him.

And Him alone.

This weekend, as I sat at another conference, Jesus called my name. “Ginny, you are distracted by many things…” There was no condemnation in His voice. Instead, the call was an irresistible wooing. “Come… Choose what is better.”

Do you hear His voice?

Is He calling you?

Come…

Luke 10:38-42

Thank you to the Lifeway Events Team for a wonderful conference this weekend and to Vicki Courtney for her message on Mary and Martha, and Melissa Greene for her incredible song–At His Feet. It was a privilege to join you and lead a workshop at the .Mom event.

If you’ve read my novel, Words, and also read the reader letter included in the book, then you know many of the emotions portrayed by my characters were my own. I come from a history of childhood sexual abuse, and like Kaylee, I lost my voice–not literally–but almost.

My ability to speak truth, my ability to speak up for myself, and my ability to speak confidently were robbed from me. I was shamed into silence. I hid the truth as a means of protecting myself, and those around me. Of course, my silence only served to further the childhood abuse and contributed to emotional abuse in my adult years.

My words were so stunted that I even found praying with words difficult. Instead, I learned to sit in silence before God and simply open my mind and heart to Him. I didn’t speak. I didn’t pray silent prayers. I hoped God would search my mind and heart and know my needs and the needs of those I cared about.

Oddly, without conversing with God, I still felt we had a deep and intimate relationship. The type of intimacy that comes, perhaps, with sitting in silence with someone you love.

Then one Sunday, during the annual Palm Sunday service I attend each year in the middle of the Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference, I bowed my head and sat in silence with God. The organ moaned in the background as communion trays were passed from one conferee to another.

And I wondered… Lord, is it okay that I don’t use words when I pray?

His response was swift and sure. You’re okay.

I’m okay? His response stunned me. And tears flowed… I’m okay?

He answered an unasked question. He’d searched my mind and heart and without me saying so, He knew what I needed.

I needed to know that in His eyes, I was okay, just as I was.

Just as I am.

You’re okay are the most tender words He’s spoken into my life. Words of acceptance. Words of forgiveness. Words of unconditional love.

In God’s eyes, you’re okay too. Do you know that?

Guilt is often my early morning companion. It whispers condemnation into the dawn of a new day, and I…listen. Can you believe how much you ate yesterday? You didn’t exercise either and you probably won’t exercise today. You’re hopeless. And think of the time you wasted. You should have worked harder. You have so much to do. Did you blog? Did you write that synopsis? What about that novel?

Each accusation seems to land on my chest and by the time I rise, Guilt is pushing me back down. Holding me hostage. I crawl out of bed already defeated. But worse than the sense of defeat Guilt imposes, is Guilt’s ability to separate me, in my own mind, from God.  Rather than approach my Heavenly Father in freedom, I slink to the throne of God in shame. Apologetic for my many failures, I find it difficult to look fully into the face of God—I find it difficult to receive His love and grace.

In those moments, I’ve allowed Guilt to win.

This morning, I woke early to the usual whispers. But upon hearing the first accusation, I kicked Guilt in the gut and it scurried away. What was different this morning? I spent the day with my Lord and Savior yesterday. I took a Sabbath and rested with Him. I slept. I prayed. I spent time reciting His Word—filling my mind with His truth.

It was a day of fasting: from busyness; from food; even from coffee. It was a day of giving up some things in order to make more room for God. Lest you think me noble for making such a choice, it was also a day of intense struggle. I didn’t want to fast. Nor did I want to spend time with God. But…it’s where He led me and I decided, begrudgingly, to follow.

As I rose from bed today, I did so with a renewed sense of freedom—the freedom to enjoy my sips of coffee and bites of food—the freedom to look forward to my work and the purposes God has for me. I rose with anticipation of spending the day in the company of the God who loves me—who longs to hold me in His embrace. Rather than slink toward His throne, I walked, head held high, aware of who I am in His presence. I am His beloved…and He is mine.

Is Guilt hissing its accusations into your life? Are you listening?

I dreamt of becoming an author for many years. Once the dream became a reality, I discovered the reality was much different than the dream. My dream included hour after hour spent in solitude researching and writing the next great novel. I’d wear silk pajamas while I wrote, work from a desk overlooking the crashing surf, drink imported tea, and have deep literary discussions with my dog. And, of course, I’d write only bestsellers.

When I did chose to appear in public, photos of me—lithe and lovely—would be splashed across the social pages of my hometown magazine and perhaps even the entertainment page of USA TODAY.

My dream did not include the following: Writing under the pressure of a deadline, wearing yesterday’s sweats while I wrote, doing radio interviews before I’ve had my morning coffee, acquiring writer’s spread because I sit more than I stand, or speaking publicly, or even out loud, for that matter (except for the discussions with the dog, of course). I did not dream of to-do lists longer than my arm or taking the fast track to a marketing degree by doing rather than learning. And I definitely didn’t dream of working harder than I’ve ever worked while earning less than I’ve ever earned.

I am not comfortable with the unexpected. Nor am I comfortable with most of the realities of my new career.

Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4

I prayed God would fulfill the desires of my heart and He did. But He included a few things I didn’t bargain for. He included things, mind you, that I don’t even do well! He fulfilled my dream and took me so far out of my comfort zone that I’m not sure I’m even in the same galaxy as my dream!

And guess what? I love it!

I love it because I’ve learned a new dependence on Him. I love it because when a reader connects with me, I know it’s because He’s worked through me. I love it because when I stand on a stage and open my mouth, words actually come out. Words that I couldn’t speak on my own. Words that glorify God because they are a miracle of God.

I love it because when I’m down to my last penny, God provides in unexpected ways.

I love it because He’s taken my dream and made it so much bigger than my imagination.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

I love it because He knew the plans He had for me. Plans to prosper me. Perhaps not financially, but in ways I’d never have anticipated. In my faith in Him. In my love for Him. In my courage to follow Him.

In fact, it’s no longer about my dream. Instead, it’s about His will. And there’s nothing I’d rather do than delight in Him and live out His will.

What’s your dream? Is God fulfilling it? Is it what you expected?

If you dream of writing for publication…

Join me at the Inspire Writers Conference

September 26-27, where agent and editor, Karen Ball and I will be speaking.

Register here: http://inspirewriters.com/?page_id=1237

As I travel and engage with readers, many open their lives to me and share their heartaches. In the last week I’ve heard stories of a husband’s unfaithfulness, a son’s death by homicide, a daughter’s rape. I’ve heard stories of childhood sexual abuse and a wife’s physical and emotional abuse. Many of these dear wounded warriors also share their journey of healing. They share the hope they’ve found in Jesus Christ.

But I confess, these stories often weigh on me and I want to shake my fist at God and tell Him He should prevent suffering. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—I don’t understand why God allows Satan to rule as the prince of earth. I don’t understand why God allows heartache.

However, I do understand this: I don’t want to serve a simplistic God who is easily understood. If God isn’t bigger than my understanding, then He isn’t much good, is He?

I face a conundrum. Maybe you’ve faced it too. Either I rely on my own understanding or I place my faith in a God I’ll never understand.

So I walk in faith, awed, and sometimes addled, by a mysterious God. And as I watch, and wait on Him, I see something else taking place in the midst of the suffering. I see comfort. His comfort. Offered to those who suffer from those who’ve suffered.

I see a beautiful dance—a pairing of souls drawn together by mutual pain. I see purpose assigned to their pain as they offer comfort one to another. I’ve received that comfort myself, and I’ve offered it to others.

The embrace of God.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. 1 Corinthians 1:3-4

His mysteries are as unfathomable as His love.

Are you walking in faith and in need of comfort? Or are you reaching out and offering comfort to another?

It’s noon and I’m still in that same hotel bed. Still in my jammies. And still resting in the embrace of love.

But the morning didn’t begin that way…

I woke before dawn with a niggling sense of guilt. Gnawing guilt. Accusatory and condemning. And for a few moments, I listened to the accusations. You’re so busy doing God’s work that you don’t have time for Him. Who do you think you are? How can you expect Him to bless your endeavors?

Then I rolled over, snuggled beneath the covers, and…went back to sleep.

Phooey with those lies.

A busy week? Yes. Time with God? Yes. But not in the ways I’m accustomed to. I didn’t open my Bible or devotional books. I didn’t intercede with lengthy monologues (okay, I rarely do that anyway). Nor did I attend church. Instead, I saw the reflection of Christ in those who’ve committed their lives to serving Him. I engaged in conversations with those who love Him—with those who’ve surrendered to Him. I’ve depended on Him in moments of fear and fatigue and frailty. I’ve laughed. I’ve listened. I’ve given and received love. His love.

What accusations is the liar hissing to your soul?

Are you listening?

Don’t bother.

There is now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus. Romans 8:1

“It’s not so much that the Bible portrays us as worms groveling in the dirt, our every inclination evil,” the professor gently argued. “No, found in every chapter of God’s Word is the tragic story of human beings who are massively confused.”

The image of worms had captured my wandering, word-weary attention. I leaned with interest toward the podium as the speaker explained,

“In his book, City of God, St. Augustine reminds us of where we live—not yet in the eternal city where God is fully loved, nor in the God-defying city of the devil. But we dwell at the swirling confluence of those two opposing influences. The Bible names this place Babylon, which means, literally, Confusion.”

Confusion—it is the very atmosphere of our world. Read the newspaper—good people inexplicably permit great evil to flourish, the darkest of hearts astound us with unselfish acts of heroism.

Or read your own life. In every one of us, we find the stamp of the image of God, as well as sin working to erase all resemblance to Him. We betray ourselves, we astound ourselves, we disappoint ourselves—we are confused.

The Apostle Paul lamented, “Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me…what a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me…(Romans 7:21-24)?”

Do you know what he’s talking about? Are you haunted by the memory of moments, of choices—of cruel words, of furtive, forbidden acts, or callous inattention that left others wounded, relationships broken—maybe even destroyed?

I confess that long after I have forgiven and forgotten what others have done to me, I nurse the shame of my own selfish betrayals, both petty and grievous. I want to be good, I want to love, and hate the ways I sabotage my own best intentions. Can you relate?

Fortunately, God is kinder to us than we are to ourselves.

To those of tender conscience who struggle to forgive our own failings, the Bible assures, “If our hearts condemn us; we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything (1 John 3:20).”

Do you hear what the author of 1 John is saying? Never, while on our journey to becoming who God designed us to be, will we have a “perfect” day. We will get confused, we will let Him and others down, and our hearts will point fingers of regret.

But we can, every day, be grateful. God is bigger, and knows us better, and, to those who join hearts and lives with His Son, gives the sweet gift of forgiveness, and the firm grip of His Spirit to lead us home.

Recently, while reading a devotional, I came across a familiar verse:

“Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4

As I read the words, the Holy Spirit nudged me and whispered to my soul. I’ve given you the desires of your heart. I was breathless as I considered the desires I’d surrendered to God over the years and then, in that moment, ticked them off my mental list.

Yes, Lord. Oh, thank you. I responded in reverent awe.

I thought back to the vision I believed God gave me sometime during the early 1990’s. I’ve never been good with dates, but I know my children were still toddlers. He planted a seed of desire in my heart and gave me a glimpse of what was to come. Through the years, He nurtured and tended that seed. But there were many, many times, I wondered if the desire would ever bear fruit.

“Lord, I want to write…” I prayed over and over again.

I finally surrendered the desire to God—the One who’d placed it in my heart in the first place. Lord, I will write for You and You alone. I will write as an act of worship. Not long after, a story began forming in my mind and heart. A story I had to write—first for Him, and then for others if that’s how He led.

Almost two decades after God gave me the original vision, my first book, that story, was published. This week, I leave for an author trip where I’ll speak, sign books, attend author events, and mingle with other writers. My second novel releases in February of next year, and I’m working on my third. I’m awed by God’s goodness.

But more importantly, I’m awed by Him. When I surrendered my desire, when I took my eyes off myself and instead focused on Him, I got to know Him in new ways. I delighted in Him—His majesty, His holiness, His goodness. He became my delight…and my greatest desire.

Now, I love serving Him with the gift He’s given me. But more than that—I love Him. And day-by-day He’s planting new desires in my heart. Desires for my children—that they too will delight themselves in Him. I know their journey to the heart of God may be long and fraught with trials, but my desire for my young men is that they will hunger and thirst after God.

What are the desires of you heart?

What or who is your greatest delight?

I confess, as both a citizen and a Christian, I often take my freedom for granted. Personally, I’m embarrassed to admit, it hasn’t cost me much.

But recently, as my life has taken some unexpected turns, God’s showing me that not only does freedom come at a cost, but we also have to learn how to live in freedom.

Paul understood this and penned a reminder to the Galatians–and us:

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.

Galatians 5:1

As humans, we return to what’s familiar. We’re most comfortable with the known–even when the known is painful. Moses led the Israelites out of slavery. But after a short time of wandering in the unknown, they were ready to return to what they knew–even though what they knew was bondage. Paul led the Galatians out from under the law and introduced them to the freedom found in Jesus Christ. But soon, the people were looking back longingly to the law that kept them enslaved. They knew how to live under the law. Freedom? That was unknown.

In my personal life, I’m paying a high price for freedom in several areas. Perhaps the most tangible is physically. After major back surgery two years ago, I had to learn to walk a new way–each step was intentional and painful. Now, I’m finally free to exercise again and begin strengthening the muscles that were stretched over my restructured frame. But the exercise is excruciating. It is one of the most difficult things I’ve done. My first session with my trainer resulted in a pulled muscle in my back. This week, I sustained another injury. This will be a long and painful process.

Honestly, as I’ve nursed the latest injury, I’ve thought how much easier it would be to stay bound by my physical limitations. After all, I’m okay. I can walk., sort of. Sure, I’m overweight and out of shape. I tire easily. I’m weak. And many of the things demanded of me are challenging and painful–traipsing through an airport, lugging baggage, walking the floor of a convention center–all things I need to do in the week ahead. But freedom? the price feels so high.

What personal freedom do you long to attain? What’s the cost? Are you, like me, struggling?

Let’s remember that Christ’s power is made perfect in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:10).

Maybe the most important question is what will you miss, what will I miss, by remaining bound? What is the cost of staying stuck in painful memories? What is the price of remaining in an abusive marriage? Or of remaining enslaved to food? Or alcohol? Or shopping?

I hope you’ll share your thoughts and encourage one another.

But I’ve heard many Christians say, “God never gives us more than we can bear.” They mean well, but that claim and reality don’t seem to match up.

Hasn’t the groom whose bride was killed on their honeymoon experienced grief beyond bearing? Or the mother of the bride who will never see her daughter’s smile again? Isn’t that pain too much?

And what about Christ?

They spit on him, and took the staff and struck him on the head

again and again. After they had mocked him…they led him away

to crucify him (Matthew 26:30-31).

Christ suffered unto death.

So what’s the truth? The claim that God never gives us more than we can bear comes from a verse often misquoted:

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And

God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can

bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so

that you can stand up under it (1 Corinthians 10:13).

I find comfort in that verse. It assures me I’m not the wimp I was tempted to believe I am. The truth is that God won’t allow us to experience temptation beyond what we can bear. Suffering is a different story.

When we’re tempted to comfort ourselves through the grief of losing a loved one by escaping from our pain through destructive measures, God offers us the Comforter, His Spirit, who walks us through the valley of the shadow of death. When we’re tempted to believe, based on circumstances, that God doesn’t love us, He reminds us of His beloved Son, who He sent to die for us.

Scripture warns us—even promises us—that we’ll bear tribulation here on earth. But as James reminds us, our time here is but a vapor. It is just the beginning. For reasons I don’t understand, God allows the prince of darkness to rule on earth. He allows suffering.

I must chose, in faith, to believe there is something more—that as I share in the sufferings of Christ, someday soon, I will meet Jesus face to face. I will know Him by the scars He bears. I will live for eternity in the light of the Father’s love—a Father who sacrificed His own son–who walked through the pain of death—for me. And for you. So that He might save us for eternity.

Have you experienced more than you can bear?

Are you tempted to turn your back on the One who allows your suffering?

Or are you holding fast to the hope of eternity?

As we share with one another and build a community through this blog, I pray we will offer one another the love, encouragement, and gracious embrace of Jesus Christ.