Where Else Would I Go

I’ve been really tired lately. I haven’t been living out the best version of myself, probably been rolling my eyes more than usual. I’ve been letting the world get the best of me. In return I’ve been letting the world harden me.

Been too tired to ask God for help. Been too scared to ask God for help. Not too sure if I wanted His help. Not too sure if I wanted to walk this path anymore.

And it’s the middle of the night and the enemy creeps in. He says we’re friends but the fear and regret, the pit in my stomach and the separation he brings from Love says otherwise.

The enemy creeps in and offers me nothing new. He offers old things, stale things, what I’ve already lived through, what God already replaced with life. And somehow he makes it sound good for a moment. Somehow he takes my old things and dresses it with a bow. Somehow in the night memory is blurry and old things seem right. And worship and lifting of hands and that song that broke my heart on Sunday seem so distant. Seems so… not for me anymore. Walking through those old church doors dragging my feet.

I haven’t been myself and the enemy calls me prey. He sees me wounded and now is his chance. He lures me into separation and anxiety and no more lifting of hands. No more praises in heart. And am I the only one? Have you ever felt so alone in a room full of people?

Maybe I was bitter that first love slipped away.

Maybe I’m bitter that I gave my only child away.

Maybe I’m bitter that a father’s love just can’t stay.

So I’ve been told that harboring bitterness separates,

me from Him,
and maybe that’s true,

But in thorns of bitterness I still feel Him, hear Him. A voice in the distance that sounds familiar, speaks closer with each acknowledgement. Fog grows thicker but the voice grows desperate. For the one who hasn’t been herself, feeling lost in fog. In old wounds that have already healed. The enemy points out scars as reminders.

What amazes me, despite it all, God remains. His love. His presence. We make bad decisions but he sits with us through trial. Holding our hand tight like only a mother deep in love with her child might do. Knowing that we are guilty but remembering deep inside the day we were created. What we were created for. Remembering the look in our face in the only moment we were innocent. Before the world invited us in. The deep root of love penetrates through holding of hands. Through nail-scarred hands.

And there is wholeness in that. Restoration in that. A better life in that. In nail-scarred hands. They keep me coming back. I could walk away from Jesus for the life I once had, for everything the enemy has offered me, but I’ve tasted both sides and His well is sweeter. He offers new life. New experience. His love is stronger. His promises are better. He gives strength again for lifting of hands. He refills the soul for all the more praise. And when He asks if I’m going to leave I respond,

Where else would I go?

Nothing is better,
Nothing is sweeter,
Nothing compares
To the love of Christ.
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Memories From The Stovetop

Certain things will always bring me back to a time or place from my past. A smell. A song. Food. Like eggs, for example.

When I’m at my sisters, I love getting eggs from the chicken coop. It reminds me of my beautiful Aunt Kathy. It’s funny how certain people can make such a lifelong impact on your life, even at the age of 3. She had long, dark hair and a beautiful face. Her spirit was gentle and kind. She loved horses and being outside. But what I remember most about her was the two of us walking hand in hand out to her chicken coop to collect eggs. And jam. For some reason I think of her when I eat jam.

But she isn’t the only one I think of when it comes to eggs.

This morning I was making scrambled eggs. Of course they came from my sisters chickens. They truly are the best. And it brought me straight to my grandma. She. Loved. Eggs. Scrambled eggs, to be exact. I cracked 5 eggs into a bowl, as my puppy patiently watched from a close distance, and I was instantly sitting in my grandmas living room, on her “davenport.”

I loved that day. My sister, brother-in-law and I took our dogs to my grandmas to visit. Lo and behold, she made us a pan full of the yellowest scrambled eggs in the world. Yep. The whole wide world. They could have won a prize. Not too long after, she comes out of the kitchen with a whole sandwich.

“You’re not eating eggs, gramma?”

“This is for the dogs.”

I love her. You know a woman’s heart and soul is full of diamonds and pearls when they make a gourmet sandwich for her granddogs. We have a photo somewhere of her sitting in her chair, breaking even pieces off and feeding them this sandwich made for a king.

I don’t think any member in my family can make scrambled eggs without thinking of sweet Ella Mae. It was her trademark.

And with every cracked egg, I’m back in her kitchen, soaking in the memories of my beautiful grandma.

I thank God everytime I remember you.

-Philippians 1:3

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These Are My People

I’ve been thinking about friendship. I remember my first friend that wasn’t family, our parents were friends when we were in diapers and so we really had no choice but to love one another. We were in the same classes up until she moved when we were in the 3rd grade, and my security was rocked. I made new friends throughout the years, but they eventually faded away.

My first best friend though, and still to this day, is my sister. We even had a handshake. Although we are 6 years apart, somehow we truly have been blessed with an unbreakable bond. And it is the same for my 3 brothers. I see other siblings who aren’t that close or fight constantly or don’t even speak at all, and I am so thankful for the friendship we have with one another. God gave us siblings for a reason, and I think we have done a good job at hanging on to that, even in adulthood.

I was the youngest out of 4 for 7 glorious years. The 4 of us are 2 years apart. I remember how upset I was when I learned that my torch would soon be passed on to my baby brother. I think for the first few years of his life I wouldn’t have minded if the stork decided to fly off with him, but these days I can’t imagine life without little Wibby Wobby and his too-smart-for-you self.

We are the only ones who can make fun of eachother. If one is late for a family gathering, you will receive a thousand texts on your whereabouts. (Except if you are the oldest, we all know if it starts at 4, she will be there at 5.) And if one doesn’t come at all, it feels incomplete. I’m thankful for my people. I realize we aren’t meant to live life without our people. Do you have them, and who are they to you?

They give you the best advice because they have been-there-done-that more than twice. They don’t accept your new love right away until they see they can laugh with the rest of your people. Unafraid to voice their opinion. They pick you up and take you to Starbucks at 10 pm when you’re mad at mom. When dad hurts you again, they call him back and take care of the rest. Because no one hurts your people unless it’s a brother putting you in a chokehold. They are the ones in your group text. The ones you send funny Pinterest messages to that only they’d find humorous. They are the ones you want there at every milestone. They are the ones you don’t mind seeing you act like a fool. The ones you can reminisce with however far back in life you want to go and they were still there. They bring up old embarrassing stories of you in front of new people. They remember your old Aunt Ethel and her whoopy cushions. They give you nieces and nephews and make your heart fuller. The ones who know your insides and outs and know the core of you, the real you. Because they’ve known you since birth and they’ve seen every shade. Even when you lose yourself for a moment, they don’t just wait for you on the other side, they go along for the ride. They see your ugly mistakes and they love you through it. They are constant. Willing to stick it out regardless of who you become. And when you hurt, they hug you until you cry. And when you cry, they don’t mind the snot and tears on their shoulder.

Sometimes they are blood, sometimes not. But for my people, our blood runs thick. We are different yet the same. Always there. These are my people.

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Favorite Books From the Last Year

I love to read. It’s not something I’ve had to grow into, I’ve always loved to read. I remember in the first grade our teacher held up a sign and asked us to read it. As my 7 year old peers were still sounding it out, I belted “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”. The rest of the class chimed in halfway through, but I sat with pride knowing that this was my “thing”. Words. Books. Reading. Sounding out made up words.

But anyway. People have been asking me for book suggestions. So here are some books that have stuck with me within the last year.

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“So Long, Insecurity. you’ve been a bad friend to us.” Beth Moore

I LOVE THIS BOOK. I LOVE BETH MOORE. This was the first book I ever read by her, and let me tell you.. Every word she writes is gold. I was reading this book while going through a tough time spiritually, emotionally and physically. I will forever recommend this book to every woman I know. And man. I don’t care who you are. Read this book. But be prepared to dig deep, emotionally. Be even more prepared for a huge spiritual breakthrough. She has you take steps of facing and confronting current/past junk that you might not even know is there. She walks with you step by step through the process of TRUE freedom. If you are only interested in getting one book off my list, stop right here. Read no further. This is your book.
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“Wild Goose Chase” Mark Batterson
This book makes you want to go out and get stuff done. He takes you on a journey with the Holy Spirit, and bringing the adventurer out from within you. It’s about trusting the Holy Spirit without an agenda.
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“The Pioneer Woman. Black Heels to Tractor Wheels.” Ree Drummond

This book is just straight up funny. My mother-in-law gifted me this book and I read it in 4 days and literally laughed the whole way through. The author writes about her hilarious relationship with her husband, from single-hood to having babies. If you like romantic-comedies then read this book. If you are also looking for a good cookbook LOOK HERS UP. YUM.
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“Love Does” Bob Goff

SO FUN. If I could pick two author friends it would definitely be Bob Goff and Beth Moore. This dude rides a skateboard to work everyday! Pretty much if you want to be inspired to JUST DO, this is the book for you. It is funny and makes you want to give all of your stuff away and hop on a plane to some place and LOVE on others.
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“Captivating” John & Stasi Eldredge

This book was mailed to me from a friend, and I’m so thankful I have friends who speak my love language. The authors are husband and wife, and go through the fall of Adam and Eve to a woman’s heart. Together they touch base on what we need as women to thrive and what men need to thrive, as well. They give you a refreshing perspective of the war waged over our feminine soul and how we can declare victory over it. I like this book because it not only gives a woman’s point of view, but also from a man’s.
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“The Antelope In The Living Room” Melanie Shankle

This. Book. Is. Hilarious. I want to be this authors best friend for ever. If you like funny people and laughing with (at) other women’s marriage stories and their cray cray husbands weird antics, read this. She not only gives the humorous side of marriage, but also gets a little serious in how we grow and work together as a couple. Love her.
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“Wilderness Skills For Women” Marian Jordan

If you like the wilderness, and if you’ve ever been through a “wilderness season”, grab this. I like this book because it literally gave me insight on a morning I needed it the most. The author writes about unfulfilled desires and what we can do with them. And I know we all can use a little help with that. (Don’t mind the chewed edges of this book, our new puppy is really rude.)
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“Speak” Nish Weiseth

I love hearing peoples life stories. I love the way one tells of their journey and how they got to where they are. What made this person who they are. I love someone who can be vulnerable, raw and unafraid to do so. The author encourages us to SPEAK from an unmasked heart, because that is where we can really reach out to others hearts.
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“Multiply” Francis Chan

As Christians it is our job to disciple. This book is meaty and good for those who are seeking deeper knowledge and taking steps to start.
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OTHER BOOKS YOU SHOULD READ BUT I ALREADY GAVE AWAY SO I CAN’T TAKE A COOL PICTURE:

Undaunted by Christine Caine

God Loves Ugly by Christa Black Gifford

Jesus Is_ by Judah Smith

WHAT I’M READING NOW:

“Nobody’s Cuter Than You” Melanie Shankle
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//You can grab any of these at Amazon.com//
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The Long Way Home

For 13 months we lived in a beautiful home in the country. There was a garden in the back with a rose bush that had overgrown. As I began to weed the garden, I would find roots sprouting from one end, that lead me back to this big rose bush. It had grown so strong for so long, without anyone tending to it, that the roots had overtaken this garden. Isn’t that quite like life?

A painful event would happen to me and I would run from it. I would not face it, but let it root deeper. And time would pass and things would pile on my resume of things I majorly failed at, things I did not want to face. The roots were too deep. And my arms were too weak to begin pulling. So I kept running, finding anything to fill the space between me and those roots. Even now right before bed or a random place in time I can get a flashback of some long forgotten stupid night and cringe. Even now I can still fall back into the lie of the enemy that because of my past I am no good. But I am strong enough now to recognize his lie.

I don’t believe that God is angry with me for not choosing life. I believe He was deeply, deeply saddened that I didn’t know His Truth well enough to know that this was life. I believe He heavily wept over the fact that I was deceived into darkness. I believed in the lie – this was not life. The lie that I would feel relief, and this was something I would soon move on from as if it never happened. But this was my wildly unkept rosebush, overtaking the beautiful garden within me. I believe God felt sorrow towards me when I felt so alone. I believe God my Father deeply mourned for my loss, when I hardened my heart to avoid feeling anything. But greatest of all, I believe He welcomed my baby Home and that I will see my baby face to face in Heaven.

And that is just it: we’ve become so numb to what we don’t want to come to terms with. With what we would rather avoid. We want the easiest route and the easiest way out. But I’ve learned going the distance produces perseverance. I want to take the long way Home to Heaven, I want to stop at every detour. Walk up every steep mountain. To walk through pain and remember what it felt like. I want to take my time, to be completely raw in truth. I’ve grown to desperately love truth. To love on everyone lost. Everyone going through affliction. I choose the long way home. Facing our roots and pulling them out from within the deep produces an inner strength we never thought possible. Our past has no control over us unless we choose to let it. Because past things are passed things. Our past cannot harm us any longer if we choose to use it for good – in the helping of others.

Up until recently I would pray for God to break me away from my past. To let me forget. The memories. The pain. The embarrassment I still feel. But God did not. So finally I thanked Him for not allowing me to forget, because if I forget how can I be there for anyone else with similar roots? How can I help someone avoid growing these same roots? If I forget then there will never be a lesson learned. If I forget I will once again have taken the easy route out. Instead I’ve chosen to walk through it, root by root, room by room, with God holding my hand. Facing things I’ve been avoiding. Facing things I’ve been praying would just disappear. Decisions I have made. Forgiveness I have been withholding. Guilt I have bagged away. And it’s only then have I realized that the burden seems to grow lighter. I imagine my heart with these rooms full of filth, and God walking with me hand in hand, power washing the walls clean with each one we face.

So what roots have you been avoiding? What shortcuts have you been taking? If you’re wondering if the burden will ever get lighter the answer is yes. If you have been trying to work up the courage to face the painful fear of the past I challenge you to pull that first root. Take that first small detour. Walking through pain is not easy, but it is worth the Light. It is worth the freedom. Your face shines all the more beautiful in the freedom. I know you yearn for the freedom. And in your wild heart of hearts you were created to run in the freedom of the day. Choose today.

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Where Shore Meets the Sea

I hold on to things. I’m by no means a hoarder, but I definitely still have “Babs”, the stuffed-dog I got when I was two. (And I definitely still sleep with her, my husband has accepted this.) I hold on to memories and love and pain all the same. Like stepping away from relationships. All of those years I held knuckle-white tight. And learning to be independent and who I am as this person God created. If we let them, people will shape us into a shadow of ourselves, and when they leave we can’t recognize our own reflections. Sometimes we have moments where we have to choose whether to remain stuck in the waiting for change to hopefully come or we have to take the leap to reach change now.

I get lost in my own mind sometimes and relive moments with my grandma, I still have her number saved in my phone as if I could call her whenever I want to. I get lost in her memory and her goodness and her love for Jesus. I wish she could see me loving Him, too, the way she always prayed I would. I remember the night she made her way to Heaven and I wasn’t sure how any of us would continue to live. How would we make it without her? But tomorrow came and we had to choose to move with it. I’m so thankful I finally chose to move with it.

We walked down the beach tonight and there was a young boy with his mother, and I think of my child. I think of the way his memory used to be shut away, too painful, always taunting by the enemy. And I think of the way God has redeemed it, so beautiful, so thankful I can talk about it. He would be big enough to run alone and play in the ocean and laugh and talk with me about who knows what. It hurts for a moment but I think of Heaven immediately and the setting sun behind us. And I smile. I’m full of joy in heart at the thought. How much greater is it all on his side of Heaven?

And a year ago I couldn’t face this. The pain of growth and releasing of hands and moving forward. But sometimes God works in our time, when it comes to matters of the heart. He doesn’t rush our wounds to heal and He doesn’t push us when we aren’t ready. Because He knows it’s not easy being us. He came down on earth as one of us. He knows life can be ugly and burdens can be heavy and this bed seems far too safe compared to the world outside of our window. He knows people die and fathers leave and relationships end. He knows results come back a devastatingly positive and the rain seems never-ending. And so he doesn’t push us, but encourages us, that yes, the pain in your heart may be overwhelming some days but there is a sunset over the ocean painted just for you that he doesn’t want you to miss. Just a sunset over the ocean that can help our feet to move forward, even if it’s just one small step at a time.

And what’s on the other side of moving forward has been so worth getting out of bed. So worth the releasing of hands. So worth all-in trusting Jesus. So I will leave my pains right here, where the shore meets the sea. I will let it wash away with each wave. Because although there is pain, God is still good, the sunset is still so beautiful, and Heaven is surely worth it all.

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A Voice is Heard in Ramah

“I don’t want something so tragic to be suppressed into my stone heart. If someone is going through this I want to pour into them. It hurts. It sucks. It’s full of regret. It’s full of wondering if there’s healing. If anyone will ever understand. I want people to know that I understand. I believe there is healing. I believe this will always be painful. Always be embarrassing. Always be shameful. But I believe one day I will wake up and a burden will be gone. One day I will wake up and breathe light. It will hurt but I won’t be scared to share. To speak truth about abortion. To speak up.”
January ’14

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This week will be 42 years since Roe v. Wade came into affect. 42 years. 56 million babies. What they don’t tell you is abortion is not an easy fix. It does not take away the fact that we are still mothers and fathers. Sometime around now I could have been celebrating life. I could have been buying birthday cakes and candles and there could have been celebrations. And I’ve fought with my inner self for some time. It seems like over the years I’ve counted every footstep I’ve taken that has separated me further from that day. Further from my younger self who didn’t choose life. And it rings true that we don’t realize what we had until it’s gone. And by then it’s so far gone from here. I’ve spent time staring out blank windows feeling an emptiness. Watching the snow fall out blank windows and days would change but the pain always remained the same. I’ve spent time with a jealous heart when mothers walk hand in hand with their babies. And I’ve spent time wishing for mine. Daydreaming of an echo of a voice in my mind and wanting so badly to reach it. For it to be real. I’ve beat myself up over the goneness. In the silence. I stayed silent for too long. But 56 million babies have come and gone and how many more since my own? How many more moms only realize what’s missing when the missing comes far too soon? I wonder if they are dealing with it or if they keep it hidden in their heart. I wonder if any of them have begun to stare into the same blankness and are wishing that same wish. One thing the abortion clinic doesn’t prepare us for is that there’s no refund. There’s no getting our babies back. When we realize what we have actually done. They say it is best for us. That we will be relieved. But abortion is forever and so is the yearning for our babies back. They never prepared us for the day we would blankly stare out of these windows watching the snow fall, missing a baby we only knew for a little while.

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If I could give advice to anyone facing abortion I would tell them to really think about it. Lay it all out there. A baby might not be convenient in your busy life right now, but life will get quiet. And in the midst of the silence “what-ifs” become overwhelmingly loud. The temporary inconveniences will pass but the regret is lasting on the heart. Know that the after-affects of abortion is more draining than chasing around a toddler ever would be. I want to face it head on. I don’t want to be scared of it. I want to speak life into it. I want to declare victory over abortion. Because the world tells us to keep it hidden in the darkness but there is healing in the light. After all this time I’ve finally found peace. I’ve found a piece of healing. I’ve learned to loosen my grip on this secret. I’ve learned to embrace the memory of the one I only knew for a little while, and I marvel in the Lord’s promise that I will one day see my baby face to face. I refuse to stay silent anymore, because my child’s death will not be in vain – for there will be victory over abortion. You were here. You existed. You are remembered.

A voice is heard in Ramah,
Mourning and great weeping,
Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted because they are no more.

but I will turn their mourning into gladness;
I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.

Jeremiah 31

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The other side of it all


It’s Okay to Stay

I thought by now maybe we’d be somewhere new. Somewhere broke down on the side of the road in the motor home we bought three years ago that’s now probably been sold a time or two since we sold it last fall. I’ve spent time wondering maybe if I didn’t miss some turns then maybe we’d be somewhere far from here by now. But we’re still here, in our hometown.

Sometimes you’re called away but sometimes you’re called to stay. Just stay. And when you’re gone from everything, all that you know, in a new town and new faces, new street signs and stop lights, it takes all that you have to be brave. Brave to step on the new sidewalk outside of your new house. Brave to re-memorize where the closest Tim Horton’s is on the corner (you pray to God there’s a Tim Horton’s). Brave to say hello to new faces. To start over again. And that’s always viewed as honorable. You’ve made it, right? Getting out of your hometown. But sometimes you’re asked to stay. Stay planted in the familiar. You don’t have to use that old GPS in the center counsel because you’ve drove down Michigan Avenue a million times or two since you were a kid. Seeing a familiar face every time you go to the store and it all feels like home. A different memory at every red light floods your mind as your car comes to a stop. When did it become such a bad thing to say you’ve lived here all your life? When did it get written in the rules that we have to leave in order to really have lived? Sometimes life’s missed when we’re so busy saving up for the next bus ticket out. 

Yes, it can be brave to leave, to start over where nobody knows your name, but it also takes courage when we are asked to stay. Invest love and life right where your roots are planted. In the familiar. In the faces who already know you. What you have done in your past and the mistakes you have made. It’s brave to to pick up and start again, right where you are. 

Sometimes we’re asked to pack up our things and invest in a new place. But sometimes we’re asked to just stay.

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Fear is a Liar

When was a time you felt most scared? What was it over? How much did you allow that fear to dictate your life? Did you triumph over it or are you still allowing fear to whisper lies to you in the dark?

Fear is a liar, and if we accept these lies we remain chained to it. I won’t forget the way these lies slowly crept into my mind. The fear of being honest about who I am and the path I have walked took over my life so much that I shut off and shut down. I believed that there was no way I could be honest about how I felt or that I could be my true self, because fear told me it was absolutely impossible. Fear told me that everything I’ve ever done in my past was too ugly, and too unforgivable, that no one would understand. Fear took away my self-worth. Fear took away my potential. Fear took away my voice. The enemy oppressed me with so much fear because he feared who I was created to be. His mission was to paralyze me in this fear, and I believed him when he said, “This is it. This is all God has for you.” A life of a shell of myself and that God could never use me because of my past. I believed fear when it said that I could not overcome. I believed fear when it said that healing is too hard, and that a life lived out for The Lord was not possible for me. I was listening to fears loud voice so much that it tuned out The Lords still, small voice telling me I am. I can. I will. Fear began to scream louder in my face the more God spoke gently to my heart. When fear told me I’m not worth fighting for, Yahweh said I’m worth dying for. When fear told me I can’t trust in God, El Roi said with Him I can move mountains. When fear told me I won’t overcome, El Shaddai said I will be victorious.

Fear is a liar and the enemy fights the worst fight to keep us there. When we are so captivated in fear then it’s hard for God to use us. When we eat the lies fear feeds us then everything God has for us is tainted. I challenge you right now, today, to take a fear in your life and call it out. Like a bully that’s been taunting you, stand up for yourself and push it back. You will see that it’s not as tough as it appears to be when you just take the first step. There is victory and light that comes from breaking the chain of fear and leaving it in the dark. God promises that we are, we can and we will.

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Handing Over the Keys to the Cellars of Our Souls

Every one of us walking on this earth have a few cobwebs in the corners of our souls. Maybe your mom once told you not to have any cookies before dinner but they were so enticing that you ate one anyway when she left the room. A cobweb forms. Maybe you told a “white lie” to your best friend because it feels easier than facing the truth. Another cobweb forms.

But maybe you have a cellar in the basement of your soul. It’s dead bolted and has a million and one locks just to ensure that no one gets in. Maybe it’s been there for so long that the cobwebs have become so thick. It’s even formed mildew so not even you want to touch it. The enemy guards that cellar with his strongest forces. He wants to make sure no light shines through. He wants that cellar in your soul to remain hopeless. Impossible to open. And he wants to continue to torment you with it.

He wants you to believe that if anyone knew what was locked inside then they would abandoned you. That they would disown you and be disgusted with you. He wants you to believe that you are the only one who has done what you’ve done or what has been done to you. That no one can relate, understand or help. Let me tell you that that is a lie from the deepest, fieriest pit of hell. Whatever has happened to you in this life, whatever is chained inside your cellar, there are over 7 billion people in this world, you are not the only one. It’s impossible. God says there is nothing new under the sun. Although it feels like it, you aren’t the first and you won’t be the last.

God didn’t create our bodies for cellars in our souls. We are not capable of keeping them there long enough without going crazy. Without forming some kind of destructive behavior. What is that one thing you’re holding on to that hinders you from reading your bible more? What is it that stops you from growing deeper in your faith? You may veer off course a little bit, and for some of us a lot a bit. You may have junk in your cellar that no one could have ever imagined. But God knows. No matter how well you believe you’ve fooled everyone else, God knows. He sees your cellar. Down to your deepest wound, and He mourns for you.

You may believe that nobody else in this world could ever know how you feel or how much your cellar has made you suffer, but God knows. And He wants to brush away the cobwebs. He wants you to hand over the lock and key and allow Him to free you. You might be thinking, “Well He’s God, why doesn’t He just take it from me and do it Himself?” He’s a gentle God. He’s a patient God. He’s a God who gave us free will to choose to remain under the weight of the enemy’s thumb or choose to bring it all to His feet and say, “Okay, Lord. I can’t carry this on my own anymore. I need a Savior. I need you to carry this for me.” And He will. And He already has when He had His only Son drink the cup of our sins and taste the bitterness of all the filth we have ever done. His son Jesus, the Savior of you and I, who carried it all and was nailed on the cross so we could be free to willingly choose to hand over the keys of our cellars to God, and let it all go.

Enough is enough, have you had enough? Are you ready to hand over the keys?

When you call on me, when you pray to Me, I’ll listen. When you come looking for Me you’ll find me. When you want it more than anything else, I’ll make sure you won’t be disappointed. I’ll turn things around for you. I’ll bring you home again, you can count on it.

Jeremiah 29