If you don’t follow Brandon J. Adams, you should. His point of view brings a sigh of relief whenever I get fearful that the generation following this one might not have the answers to get us through.
Clearly, Brandon’s insight proves that God’s folks are alive and well, lined up for years to come.
Check out his latest post, How to Let Go of Our Christian Heroes. Let him know your thoughts. I’m sure he’d love to hear them. He’s that kind of guy.
These are trying times. Whatever we say tends to make us feel “less than”. It doesn’t matter what side of a topic you hold. It seems folks have stopped discussing and have instead, turned to arguing. It breaks my heart.
And if it breaks my heart, how is this affecting the Holder of the Universe?
Check out Lori Roeleveld’s latest post Washing Feet in an Angry World. Let’s do what we can do … and that means starting with me.
After looking at myself first–and hardest–like Lori says, I feel a bit lighter. I might not be able to change the world. In all reality, I can’t even change you. But I can change my attitude. I can choose to see good instead of pouring over the not-so-good.
When I focus on Me and what I can do, my feelings of Less-Than leave. When I focus on me, I have more power than I realized before. It’s a good power. A calming power.
Give it a try. You’ll be surprised how good it feels.
I’m super excited about Sheila Walsh’s newest book, In the Middle of the Mess coming out this fall.
Hear a well-known Christian speaker talk about Christianity’s tabu subjects. Hear her heart–raw and transparent–as she shares, “brokenness is always the beginning of healing.”
Anticipating this book is just about as exciting as getting ready to review it.
I met with a friend recently who was suffering from a crushed spirit. The reason? He was alone. There were few people in his life who were willing to help carry his particular heartfelt burden. My soul ached for him. When we got together to discuss his dilemma, my plan was to offer what I had: compassion and hope. To my disappointment however, he wasn’t interested in either. Instead, he commenced in telling me how his knowledge of the facts around his quandary should be enough to get him through.
Relying on knowledge was his ruin. Continue reading
If you’ve followed my blog for any time at all, you’ve seen shared posts from people I highly respect for one reason or another. Today I’m sharing a post from Michelle Munt, a brain trauma survivor. She’s battled back and continues to gain momentum in her journey of healing–and we’re all on a journey of healing, right?
The value of words is immeasurable. They shape our lives and determine how we see the world around us. Because of their power, we need to monitor what we hear and read—and think. Christians tap into specific words of power and comfort.
Blessed. Redeemed. Forgiven.
Because of the power in words, it’s imperative for Christ followers to be on our guard against damaging words. Satan wants to destroy the lives of Christians, often using our own words against us.
Loser. Unworthy. Ashamed.
Stop the madness! Don’t let these words find residence in your heart. We all have past experiences that helped we’d wish weren’t there, but we can control which experiences define us.
Our redemption is our greatest gift. Not only does it free us from the weight of an eternity of torment, it gives us a vehicle to help others. Continue reading
J. G. Gilbert & Robin Gilbert Luftig at Lake Lavine, MI, Summer 1958
Even though my family of origin was pretty dysfunctional, one of my favorite pastimes, when I’m feeling a bit low, is to remember stories about my dad and how he honored my feelings and held them close to his heart.
I always jumped at the chance to be with Dad in his room—the Gun Room. It was a treat to steal away with him when he went upstairs to his room. He kept guns, cameras, family photos and film equipment, and special sentimental pieces from his childhood there. I am certain he kept us out for our own protection when it came to the guns. We were all told the only time we were allowed to go in there by ourselves was if the house was on fire and we could safely get the family’s 8mm films out and save them from being destroyed. Other than that, the Gun Room was strictly off limits. Whenever I saw him in there, I would beg to join him. And he always obliged. While he worked away on whatever project he was concentrating on, I looked around his private sanctuary with marvel. I would fold my arms behind my back holding tightly on to my wrists, just to make sure I did not touch anything. I did not want to run the risk of inadvertently grabbing for something and causing harm.