Stasi's Blog
Change
Many women feel like a failure as a woman. I know that oftentimes I do. A failure as a human being, really. It has underscored just about everything I have done and everything I have been kept from doing. But I am not a failure as a human being or as a woman. In some core place deep within, I know this. I fail, yes. But I am not a failure. I disappoint. But I am not a disappointment. Yet when I find myself struggling again – losing the battle for my beauty, my body, my heart – I can sure feel like a failure in every way. And isn’t that true for every woman? Don’t we all have secret places where we are not living in the victory we long for, and that colors how we see ourselves? Doesn’t it go on to become a barrier between us and the people in our lives? A wall separating us from the love of God? Or is it just me? I didn’t think so. Sometimes we feel hopeless to ever change, simply because our personal history is filled with our failed attempts to change. Where was that angel who is supposed to be guarding our tongue and preventing those harsh words from lashing out at our children? Where did that fruit of the Spirit go empowering us to be self-controlled and pass by the donut section? God has not given me a spirit of fear, so why am I so consumed with worry over my children, my finances, my future? If the fear of man is a snare, why do I still find I am terrified of exposing my true self and then being rejected? My addiction and bondage to food has been revealed as a liar and a thief, and yet in the moment of pain, too often I still turn to it. God knows. God knows. He has not turned his face away. The very fact that we long for the change we do is a sign that we are meant to have it. Our very dissatisfaction with our own weaknesses and struggles points to the reality that continuing to live in our weaknesses and struggles is not our destiny. Read those two sentences again. Let hope rise. Why are you struggling with the things you do? There is a reason. It is found in the life you have lived, the wounds you have received, what you have come to believe about yourself because of them and not having a clue as to how to bear your sorrow. It is also because of who you are meant to be. It is not too late. It is not too hard. You are not too much. God’s mercies are new every morning. There is mercy in his eyes right now.
Stasi Eldredge
Everything
If I had everything I ever wanted but didn't have Jesus, I would have nothing. If I have nothing but do have Jesus, I have everything. The prayer of my heart today —no, more than just today is, "Jesus, I give you everything. I give you everyone. So that I may have you."
Stasi Eldredge
Gold
It’s 9:30pm and the horizon is glowing. From my deck I can see spots of red where homes are burning. I pray. The fire that burned in our community a year ago destroyed over 340 homes. It stopped mere feet from our own. How well I remember, how well this entire community remembers, what it felt like. The smoke. The heat. The falling embers. The fear that threatened to devour much more than flames. To evacuate. To see fire in the rearview mirror. To not know if our house stood or fell. To pray. To lay in bed and hold my husband, be held by my husband, and know that though the mountains shake and fall into the sea…I would remain held. Held by Love. Then to wake to the unknown… Last year we retreated to the home of good friends who welcomed us with warmth and clean sheets. We spent a week with them. The chaos and trauma became a doorway of intimacy and shared faith. I look to the horizon tonight and I don’t know if their house will be standing in the morning. These dear ones, with 2,000 others, have been evacuated. Homes are burning. Will theirs last the night? The week? I don’t know. I pray. Like so many others, I pray. But I do know, that though the mountains fall into the sea, they will be held. Their faith has been tested by fire too many times already, but tonight, being tested again…the purest of gold is being forged. And they are now, and I am now, and you are now, being held by Love. A love that never fails.
Stasi Eldredge
Miracles and Goodness
On my walk this morning, I was remembering goodness. Remembering miracles, really. And thanking God. I'm surrounded by miracles. The truth is, I'm a walking miracle! (And I bet you are, too!) On my regular walk I pass by the Open Space at Blodgett Peak. Only it's not open, hasn't been since the Waldo Canyon fire last summer. That's the fire that shook our community to the core. The fire that burned down over 300 homes. The fire that was stopped fifteen feet from our own. I am surrounded by miracles. But here's the one God reminded me of today. Last Christmas Eve eve, I was driving to the store to buy stocking stuffers for our children. John called. Nothing unusual yet. But when his first words to me were "Everyone is fine," I knew they weren't. Blaine was in an ambulance on his way to the hospital. A motorcycle accident. (Yes, he was wearing his helmet and that is why he is still with us.) Christmas Eve...we are all home. Blaine has a pretty severe concussion but nothing is broken. The phone rings. We learn another part of the story. A couple is driving home from their outing when they come up the hill and see a motorcycle lying in the middle of the road and twenty feet away, a man lying face down. He isn't moving. They pull over and immediately begin to pray. She calls 9-1-1. He heads for the man. He knows how to help the injured and unconscious person because he is a chiropractor. The young person begins to come to and wants his helmet off. The chiropractor, our chiropractor, helps him. As he is helping him, he can hear people praying as they slowly drive by. He removes the helmet and recognizes Blaine. His heart drops and he continues to pray. The ambulance comes... John and I didn't know who found Blaine. By the time Blaine's friends whom he had been playing football with drove by and stopped, Blaine was in the ambulance and strapped down. One of his friends called John. John called me. But we didn't know who had called 9-1-1. Until the phone rang on Christmas Eve. My son was in a serious motorcycle accident and the first people on the scene were believers who immediately began to pray! The first person to help Blaine was a chiropractor who knew exactly how to treat him. Yes, I am grateful this morning. Grateful again. Surrounded by miracles. Surrounded by goodness. It’s good to remember.
Stasi Eldredge
Worship!
I love to worship God. (As much as I love it, you'd think I'd be spending more time doing it. Well...I'm going to!) Our God loves it when we spend time simply adoring him! Shifting the gaze of my heart onto his beauty and goodness and away from the clamoring of my world refreshes my soul like nothing else. That said, I wanted to share with you some of my current favorite worship songs, songs that help to usher me into his Presence. Here's my playlist for May! Enjoy! God will enjoy it, too! Beautiful Things - Gungor - Beautiful Things Suddenly - Daniel Bashta - The Invisible Just Give Me Jesus - Daniel Bashta - The Invisible One Thirst (feat. Jeremy Riddle & Steffany Frizzell) Bethel Live - Be Lifted High Waiting Here for You (Live)Christy Nockels - Passion - Here for You (Deluxe Edition) You Know Me (feat. Steffany Frizzell)Bethel Music & Steffany Frizzell -The Loft Sessions (Deluxe Edition) How He Loves Us - Will Reagan and Laura Hackett - Hold On Closer (feat. Steffany Frizzell-Gretzinger) [Live]Bethel Live - For the Sake of the World The Fragrance of Your Name - Cory Asbury-Holy Behold the Lamb - Daniel Bashta - The Invisible Yeshua (Live)Will Reagan & United Pursuit - Live At the Banks House Great I AM - Jared Anderson Okay—there are a zillion more that I love but I will stop here. And in a month or so, I'll share again!!!
Stasi Eldredge
Intentional Rest
Yesterday morning, John shared this story with me: When Dallas Willard was asked by a friend, "How do I best teach people about Jesus?" Willard thought, then replied, "You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life." Of all the things he could have said, he responded with that? Ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life? I told John that it sounded really interesting and I’d like to hear more about it but I was in a hurry. I was making a joke, but we both knew I was also telling the truth. I had so much to do that I sped from the room to attack the many requirements presenting themselves for my immediate attention. Ruthlessly eliminate hurry? Oh man. I feel so busted. This has been an extremely full season. A full year, really. Lots of change. Lots of good activities, meetings, work, ministry, life. And I have been running. Haven’t you? Aren’t we all running? We are. We are running a marathon. Hebrews 12:1 “And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” Other versions say, “Let us run with patience” or “let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.” 1 Corinthians 9:24 says, “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.” We want to run well. Live well. Love well. Finish well. So in order to do that, we need to rest. To keep running, we have to stop running. All you athletes out there know that runners need rest days to recover and repair muscles in order to get stronger. Runner's World says, “It is important to realize rest days are when improvements are actually made as opposed to during the days when the runner is training.” Who knew? I can feel lazy or self-indulgent when I actually do nothing. Schedule nothing. Say no to events, appointments, gatherings in order to...simply care for my own heart and body by choosing to rest. But I need it. We all need it. Intentionally resting is vital for all of us. Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10) It’s when I slow down and stop that I become more aware of God’s loving presence. That’s when I become aware of my own breathing, even aware of how tired I am. When I am still, I step back from my hurry and step into the timelessness of our King’s merciful and restorative embrace. I’m choosing to rest more these days. And I’m not waiting for my official vacation to begin. I’m going to practice it even today. I don’t want to hurry. I don’t want to rush blindly by, forging ahead in the daily rigors of my life and miss my heart. Miss beauty. Miss others. Miss Jesus. I don’t know if I can ruthlessly eliminate hurry from my life. But for today, well, today, with the help of Christ, I think I can. Maybe, just maybe, with his help, we all can. "Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (Matthew 11:28-30 MSG)
Stasi Eldredge
This Time of Night
I like this time of night. The house is quiet save for when the wind blows the aspen branches too close to the window. They scratch to get in. Maybe they don’t want to get in at all but are simply asking for attention. Have you noticed our new buds? The night is quiet save for the occasional breeze gently massaging the larger pine trees up the hill. What a warm sound it makes. But the night is not dark. Not yet so very dark. Not still. Not scary. Not unkind. The night is inviting. Strong. It is unabashed beauty that welcomes. The ridiculously magnificent crescent moon is glowing with an otherworldly hue. It slips behind the hills leaving only a golden glow. See, it says, I was here. No stars can be seen tonight through the billowing pirate ships of clouds. I like this time of night. All the day done. Nothing on the list of to do’s that can’t be edged over onto tomorrow’s. The house is still. The night a promise of recurring beauty steady in its offer if I will but walk out my front door and breathe it in – through my nose, my mouth, my eyes, my skin, my soul. And be still myself. “Be still and know that I am God.” I seem to know he is God best in the stillness. In the quiet. When duty and obligation and responsibilities and taskmasters are silenced and the only requirement that remains is to allow my soul to rest and know that God is God. Well, let me be quiet then. Let me be silent. Let me be still. Let me breathe him in through my nose, my mouth, my eyes, my skin, my soul. And know I am held. Surrounded. Know that he is God. Know that my silence speaks to him and his to me. I like this time of night.
Stasi Eldredge
This Time of Night
I like this time of night. The house is quiet save for when the wind blows the aspen branches too close to the window. They scratch to get in. Maybe they don’t want to get in at all but are simply asking for attention. Have you noticed our new buds? The night is quiet save for the occasional breeze gently massaging the larger pine trees up the hill. What a warm sound it makes. But the night is not dark. Not yet so very dark. Not still. Not scary. Not unkind. The night is inviting. Strong. It is unabashed beauty that welcomes. The ridiculously magnificent crescent moon enchants with an otherworldly hue. It slips behind the hills leaving only a golden glow. See, it says, I was here. No stars can be seen tonight through the billowing pirate ships of clouds. I like this time of night. All the day done. Nothing on the list of to do’s that can’t be edged over onto tomorrow’s. The house is still. The night a promise of recurring beauty steady in its offer if I will but walk out my front door and breathe it in – through my nose, my mouth, my eyes, my skin, my soul. And be still myself. “Be still and know that I am God.” I seem to know he is God best in the stillness. In the quiet. When duty and obligation and responsibilities and taskmasters are silenced and the only requirement that remains is to allow my soul to rest and know that God is God. Well, let me be quiet then. Let me be silent. Let me be still. Let me breathe him in through my nose, my mouth, my eyes, my skin, my soul. And know I am held. Surrounded. Know that he is God. Know that my silence speaks to him and his to me. I like this time of night.
Stasi Eldredge
Help!
You’re not supposed to blog on Fridays. Or so I’ve been told. But I am not good at timing these things. Nor at following directions as to what I’ve been told. The thing is, Friday or not, I need help. So I reach for the Word and I look up references for “help” and God leads me to exactly what my heart needs. I need to know that he will help me. I am the man in Mark 9, asking again, “But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.” “'If you can?'” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for him who believes.” Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief.” Psalm 18:6 In my distress I called out the LORD; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice, my cry came before him, into his ears. 18:16 He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters, he rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster but the LORD was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me. Psalm 30:2 O Lord, my God, I called to you for help and you healed me. Isaiah 40:27 Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Stasi, "My way is hidden from the Lord, my cause is disregarded by my God"? Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. 41:9 I called you. I said, “You are my servant. I have chosen you and have not rejected you. So do not fear, for I am with you; so not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." I need help. Even if it’s a Friday. I need help to believe that the issues in my life that I am tired of losing battles to are not disregarded by or unimportant to God. I need help to believe that though I am ashamed of my failures, God is not. I need help from my strong God to reach down and take hold of me, to rescue me from enemies and patterns of behavior and beliefs that are too strong for me. I need to know that my God is doing this because he is good and he is mighty and because he delights in me. My faithful God answers my cries for help. He knows what I need. I look again to him with faith, in weakness, unable to save myself, and I cry for help. I look again to him who does not grow tired of me or my cries—to the One who has called me and chosen me and promised that he will help me. And I feel my faith rise. My belief. My knowing that nothing truly is impossible for God—not ever changing, freeing, delivering, and helping me. Jesus still says, “Everything is possible for him who believes.” Living water has been sprinkled on my parched faith, my battered hope. I cannot make my own heart rise, but this God, this Jesus, this faithful one—he reaches down and rescues me. He rescues all of us again and again and again as we call out to him for HELP! Each and any day of the week. Even Fridays. Thank you, God. Oh, thank you.
Stasi Eldredge
Forgive me.
I'm on a "business" "ministry" trip! Here I am, all grown up and traveling by my lonesome. Just me and Jesus all the way to Dallas where the grass is green and the trees have leaves on them! Yay! I left a snowstorm for this! I'm attending/speaking at Catalyst/Dallas—my first time. Everything is new to me and I'm new to it. Learning. Engaging. Meeting folks. Really great folks. It would all be so wonderful—such a fun trip—if God would just stop convicting me of sin. It all started at the airport. I got to security and miraculously there was only one woman in front of me. One woman who must not have flown in quite a while and didn't know she had to have her driver's license handy to show the TSA fellow before entering security. One woman whose driver's license was buried in the mysterious caverns that is a woman's purse. It's good. I'm good. I'm not in a hurry. Grace! Mercy! Then came the laptop not being removed from her carry on. Then came the inevitable question about liquids. Then came the awareness of my ugly irritation. Then finally came my prayer for her—to not be embarrassed, to know grace. "She's on my flight, isn't she, God? I'm going to sit next to her, aren't I? That's just what you'd do." I won't even talk about what happened to the poor gal when the flight attendant questioned the size of her carry on. Lots of people had suggestions then. They weren't mean. Just opinionated. I didn't sit next to her. I was all ready to and everything, but no. No, I sat near a different woman who came on the plane very late, causing quite the stir of exchanging seats and loud dialogue and the smell of liquor and the pungent memory of living near addiction. My heart did not rise up in grace. I'm so sorry to say that it did not. I was emotionally triggered. I was twelve and fourteen and sixteen and twenty and confused. I was irritated. I did pray for her—in many ways—but not until about forty-five minutes into the flight. My spirit and my will rallied, but my heart did not. "Stasi, do you see?" Gently, tenderly, precisely, the Holy Spirit revealed a critical spirit in me. I'm judging others. It is voraciously ugly. Oh, I see, God. Please, forgive me. Forgive me again. I choose to bless! I choose LOVE. Please. Please, Christ in me, love through me! I am perfectly loved. I do not love perfectly. It is God's kindness that leads to repentance. So—I choose love. I choose repentance. I choose to receive his forgiveness. And how I wish that my bent towards sin here against others and against myself ended immediately with the receiving of his complete forgiveness. But I am in process. God is revealing yet again, deeper issues in my heart that need his tending. Areas I need to repent of and receive his forgiveness and perfect love in. Areas where I am harsh for some underlying reason that I need Jesus to reveal and heal. That's what he's up to. This crazy, wild, relentless, fabulous God of ours. He's after my restoration. My healing. My deliverance. My freedom. And he's after yours. So—come on, God. I say yes to you. I don't like the ugly, but I'll stay in it if you don't show it to me. So show me. And grant me the grace of a deep and true repentance...and then, the gift of a truly grace-filled thankful heart. Even in airport lines. I am held in his grace. I am held in his love. I am being restored. I'm going to be so much nicer on the flight home. I hope.
Stasi Eldredge
Always
I stopped getting the newspaper years ago because my heart couldn’t take it. I would open it up and weep. I didn’t know my tears were intercession, but they were. They were then and they are now. It’s been a week. 2:50pm a week ago today the first bomb went off, exploding our sense of safety and so much more. I find myself today so very sad. How are you doing? My prayer is that my tears and yours join in the intercession for the many to aid in their healing and to bring the presence of Jesus. He is our refuge. He is our strength. He is our ever ready help in time of trouble. And we are surrounded by trouble. But he is greater. Always. Earlier in the week I wrote some paragraphs that would be served well by the accompaniment of a trumpet. Or better, a shofar. They are what follows. In this week of national tragedy—a terrible invasion of murder, terrorism, poison letters, explosions, death, mayhem, and manhunts—mercy, courage and valiant heroics still triumphs. Love still wins. Love always conquers. We were surrounded, as we always are, by darkness—but by light too. Our normal every day life includes loss, sorrow, death and the choice to believe that Life still wins. No matter what. In this week of national tragedy, my personal tragedy included the fact that a precious aunt died, so did a best friend’s mother. Another friend’s mother was put into the care of hospice. A dear friend slipped and fell on the ice and was hurt, and a lovely niece had her first child. I took a one-day personal retreat—recovering from the exhaustion of three intense weeks of ministry, my husband traveled out of state to speak of the Kingdom of Heaven, and we had a blizzard. I grocery shopped. I paid bills. I made dinner. I prayed. I met with God and he restored lost places in my heart with his love, his take, his perspective. In this week of national tragedy, hope was born, evil corrupted, children were sold into slavery, genocides raged, children were rescued, and the Kingdom of God advanced. This world. This fallen, broken, heartbreakingly beautiful world of ours is not our home, but we do have one. And on our way there, the less harshly we judge ourselves, the less quick we will be to judge others. The more we are able to believe and receive the love of God, the more authentically we will be able to love those around us. The degree to which we are able to offer ourselves the mercy God is constantly offering us is the degree to which we will be able to offer it to others. To love our neighbor as ourselves requires that we love ourselves. Even in the midst of national and personal tragedy. Even in the midst of disappointing people. Even in the midst of looking to people to meet needs they were never meant to and being disappointed ourselves. Mercy trumps judgment. Forgiveness wins over offense. Love vanquishes fear. Life conquers death. Always. Jesus is alive and well and moving. Even this week. Even this moment. Look to him. I lift my eyes up to the hills. From whence does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, the maker of Heaven and Earth. Jesus told us things were going to get pretty dark before the dawn. Things have gotten pretty dark. Two brothers set bombs to destroy and kill. A doctor in Philadelphia is on trial for cutting the spinal chords of full-term babies whose mothers didn’t want them to live. A man lies in the hospital recovering from his legs being torn off by a coward’s attack. Near him, recovers the coward. There is evil all around. But there is good, too. And good not only wins, it already has won. Lift your eyes up, swing wide, you heavenly gates. Open up your heart to the King of Glory. Receive his mercy, his forgiveness, his love and his Life. Receive the endless safety of his refuge. Receive his hope and truth and steadfast faithfulness. Receive his good trustworthy heart that knows we sorrow here. We bleed here. He is well acquainted with it all. Love bleeds. He bled. His blood heals. Love heals. Receive him. Jesus. The one who saves and who is saving still. Always.
Stasi Eldredge
The Lens
I just had my picture taken. Really, no big deal, right? I'm doing some audio recordings and thought, hey—let's take a picture and I'll put it on my Facebook page. (I'm trying to become social media savvy woman.) So, a friend took two pictures. Which I looked at and then deleted. You're not going to see them. (I look like that? Bummer, man.) I was not looking at myself through the eyes of Love. My old lenses of self-contempt and rejection had snuck back on my face. I didn't even realize it had happened. They are a familiar fit. Oh, come, Jesus. I want to replace my out of date, cracked and unbecoming lenses with yours. I want, no I need, to see myself through your eyes. I choose to exchange my lenses of self-hatred with your lenses of mercy, truth, goodness, acceptance and love. He says, "How beautiful you are, my Darling. Your eyes are like doves." How beautiful you are, my Darling. I am his Darling. He thinks I'm pretty! I can feel my heart begin to rise even as I dare to receive this divine exchange! Oh, to see ourselves only through the lenses of our God's love. Yes and yes. That's worth posting. That's worth framing. That's worth believing.
Stasi Eldredge
He Calls You by Name
I’ve been thinking a lot about Mary Magdalene lately. Especially her experience on that first Easter morning that took place just a moment ago. You remember how it went—on the third day, at the crack of dawn, at the first possible moment, Mary Magdalene and a few other women went to Jesus’ tomb with their spices and oil to minister to his body. To their utter dismay, they discovered the tomb was empty. And Mary was frantic: A man spoke to her and asked her, “Woman—why are you so upset?” “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him.” (John 20:2) She assumed the fellow was the gardener, and asked him if he had taken the body. Then Jesus revealed himself to her simply by saying her name, “Mary” (v. 16). Oh how sweet that must have sounded. When Jesus simply addressed her as “woman”—Mary didn’t recognize him. Any woman could be addressed that way. But when he spoke her name—her name—her heart must have stopped and leapt and burst all at the same time! She recognized Jesus when she heard her name coming out of his mouth. How would he have said it? Depending on how someone speaks your name—you can tell what's coming. When I was young and got in trouble, my mother would use my full name. Stasi Eileen Morris—get in here! When my sons were in trouble—big trouble—I wouldn’t always use their full names but by the way I said it they knew what would follow. Well actually, in the heat of the moment, I was never too good with names. Whichever son’s name I was reaching for would usually come last. I’d use every other name—sometimes even the dog’s before I got to them—Samuel, Blaine, Oban—Luke! Did your parents do that to you? Rebecca Marie Jones! Christina Ann Smith! Or how did it sound when your name was spoken with gratitude? How did your parents say your name? What about how a person’s name sounds when spoken by one who adores her? John can say my name in many ways—but my name is always safe in his mouth. He loves me. No one says my name like he does. And Jesus—Jesus who calls you by name—how does he say it? Your name is always safe in Jesus’ mouth. He loves you. Jesus loved Mary Magdalene. He spoke her name. And her response? She fell at his feet and worshiped him. Just stay with that moment for a second. She saw him crucified. She watched his broken and bloodied body be wrapped and laid to rest in a tomb and now she has come to anoint his body with herbs and spices and he is gone. Did Mary understand what Jesus had said about rising from the dead? Maybe—maybe not. But her first thought in this moment—is that his body has been stolen. And not by those who love him. She is panicking. And then Jesus is standing before her—fully alive. Fully himself. Speaking her name. Oh, what a sound. Oh, what a moment.
Stasi Eldredge
Our Dad
I am marinating in this passage these days: John 14:7-11 (NKJV) “If you had known Me, you would have known My Father also; and from now on you know Him and have seen Him.” Philip said to Him, “Lord, show us the Father, and it is sufficient for us.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you so long, and yet you have not known Me, Philip? He who has seen Me has seen the Father; so how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father in Me? The words that I speak to you I do not speak on My own authority; but the Father who dwells in Me does the works. Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father in Me, or else believe Me for the sake of the works themselves." I love who Jesus is. I love his personality! His tenderness! I love his strength, his passion, and his mercy. I love his generosity, his humor, his power. He is so profoundly attractive in every way! He heals people but he does it with such tender love. He is whimsical and authoritative and anointed and everything good. Remember how his disciples would argue over who got to be closest to him? They looooooved him. They wanted to be near him! People were ripping the roofs off to get to him. And Jesus says, everything you love about me—you love about my Dad. As much as you like me, you'll like him. I'm just like he is! Sometimes because of my own past experiences with my earthly father and other authority figures, my perception of my Heavenly Father has been distorted. And not in a good way. But the more I know him as he really is (and he's just like Jesus!), the more I want to simply RUN to him. And then rest in his marvelous, generous, complete affection. Corrie Ten Boom told a group once, don't wrestle with God, nestle. Our God is mighty. And our God is the best father ever.
Stasi Eldredge
Valentine's Day
For Men Only! Hey fellas! If you are anything like my husband, you don’t care much for Valentine’s Day. John does not like to be told that on February 14th, he is to be Mr. Romance, pull out all the stops, and sweep me off my feet in a new, creative, remembered-for-the-rest-of-my-life way. Okay. I admit. It’s a lot to ask of a guy. But that’s not what I want or your women are wanting. (Well, mostly.) I was just at the bakery ordering special cookies for Happy Heart Day, and the baker/owner guy said he didn’t pay much attention to the holiday. I pointed to the ring on his finger and said, “Ummmm, yah, well….”. He quickly told me that he had taken his wife out for a nice dinner the previous week. I told him I thought he still needed to get her a card. He confessed that he was planning to show up at her work that day with a single red rose. And a heart cookie. YES! I immediately pictured the scene in Shall We Dance? (ask your wife) when Richard Gere came up the elevator all dressed up holding a single red rose for his woman. (Whether your woman likes Richard Gere as a man or an actor or not, the guy can rock a tux. But I digress.) Your girlfriend or wife may say she doesn’t need anything but your love for Valentine’s Day, and it’s true. She doesn’t. But we women need to know our men value us and regardless of our state, find us beautiful! So ignore her and get her a card, please!!! And if you really want to win some points—a single red rose…a bouquet…a box of chocolates…anything! (No not anything. A vacuum cleaner would be a bad idea.) When I was a teenager and boyfriend-less, I still loved Valentine’s Day. I just have a thing for it. Always have. I was fifteen when my father came home from work and surprised me with a pink carnation corsage. Who wears corsages? No one I know! But I LOVED it. L.O.V.E.D. it. Dads out there…you are the first man in your daughter’s life. You are teaching her what it means to be cherished and valued. You are her first Valentine. Take note. I’m giving you some great advice here. Bring your daughter a flower, a something. Not only will she love it, your wife will too. Skydiving dressed as cupid is not necessary. Spelling our your love in tea lights on the football field not needed. But take advantage of all the cards out there for you these days—and tell those special to you— that they are special to you! FOR WOMEN ONLY! Have your men read this blog. Then, sweetheart, whether or not you have man in your life who loves you well, I want to remind you that you have a Man in your life who loves you well. These days there are hearts all over the place and signs in pink proclaiming, “Be Mine!” There is One who has said that to you already, who in fact calls you “Mine!” You have been chosen. You are being pursued. There is One who is fairer than any other son of man and you are the one who has captured his heart. Embrace the fact that you are LOVED! You are wanted, seen, and delighted in. You are romanced and fought for and have captured his heart for all time. You lucky girl, you. Just take a few moments and breathe in that Truth. You are Jesus’ Valentine. Forever surrounded by love. And from the place of resting in that reality—you are free to enjoy, to live and to offer others your beautiful heart. Happy Valentine’s Day, all! Love, Stasi
Stasi Eldredge
No Shame Zone
Happy New Year!!! It’s January again. The “Get in Shape, Lose the Christmas Cookies Effect” month. It’s actually the last day of January as I am writing this, so I’m a little late to get on board. But you know, better late than never! I’m deciding to begin this year a little differently, though. Yes, those pants that used to be loose are tight. Yes, the sleeves on the jean jacket are snug. Dang. But instead of going to shame, I’m going to blessing. See, shame is never a great motivator anyway, and it certainly isn’t an agent of change. Like a shot of caffeine in the morning, self-loathing may propel us onto the road of change, but we will find that hatred of self only leads us onto a never-ending cul-de-sac. Like being terrified by a number on the scale in the morning and vowing never to overeat again, a shot of shame may get me through to lunch...but never through to my freedom. Self-hatred, shame, and fear—though rampant in so many of our hidden worlds—are simply never going to be capable of creating or sustaining the growth we long for. Yet most of us try to use shame as our inner motivator. I know I have. God’s heart for us is a “No Shame” zone. I love that “there is therefore no condemnation for those who are Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1) That means none. Not even a little bit. Not even over the areas that I am failing. In the love of God, I can have mercy on my weak self because God does. His mercies are new every morning. (Lamentations 3:23 ) Yay! So, yes, there are many areas where I want to grow. And in this area of my shape and size, I would like to shrink but I am not going to berate myself. I’m choosing to thank God for my body and to bless it. Thank you, God, for the gift of this body! I am praying to see myself more completely, as God does. Not only the inner workings of my heart, but the outward expression of my soul as experienced in my body. Thank you, Jesus, for this amazing gift of having a body. I choose to take care of it, of me. To be kind in my words to myself. God’s not mean. I don’t want to be mean, either. Not even to myself. I want to agree with God that all he has made is good. He made me. He made you. There is goodness there. Besides, shaming myself hasn’t worked in the past. I am choosing today to lay down shame and pick up mercy. In this moment, I am not going to self-condemnation but to asking God to help me believe more deeply that I am loved. And then to live from the place of grace that enables me to choose life, to choose blessing, to choose love, and to choose HIM. Oh, may all of our new year’s be filled with knowing his love more deeply! It’s his love that changes everything. And always for the better.
Stasi Eldredge