Articles & Posts
Why Strong Girl? Why Strong Women?
I want to clarify why I've been writing about all this Strong Girl stuff. Why #stronggirl? Because I want to help raise up a generation (even those of us above their 50’s like me) who will press through – press through sin, harm, stereotypes, negative self-talk, addictions, abuse, societal limitations, restrictions, constraining definitions of beauty and femininity, failures, low expectations, loss of hope and many wounds. I want them to LIVE wholeheartedly. To believe God. To stand firm in Jesus and follow Him, listen to Him first, last and in between. I want them to LOVE. To love God and to love others. I want them to be strong enough to stand against the world’s raging current and bring the Kingdom of God wherever they are. To that end, they will need to know, WE need to know, that it’s being strong in Christ that is BEAUTIFUL. It’s from Jesus, that we can receive a deep sense of value, worth, and dignity. We can be strong in spirit and in integrity. We can be “Every Day Strong” because we are leaning into Jesus. He is our life and breath and being. We need to increasingly learn that our lives are no longer our own – that we have died with Christ and it is now His Spirit that lives in and through us – partnering with us, strengthening us, guiding us, comforting us, cheering us on – loving us as we have longed to be loved and need to be loved and ARE LOVED by the King of Love. Knowing that and growing in that makes for one Strong Girl. One mightily Strong Woman. And I want to be one. I want Jesus to be my strong even in my most weak, broken and doubt filled seasons. He is my life. Oh, to have girls – get that NOW. So that’s why. Why the T-shirts. Why I’ve highlighted examples of strong women on my Facebook page. To cast a vision. To encourage. To help us remember that it’s possible whatever our story. We are not alone. We are never abandoned. Let’s press on by His strength together! Yah, so that’s why. With such love and hope, Stasi Eph 6:10, Proverbs 18:10, Ps 73:26, Col 3:3
Stasi Eldredge
Lessons on the Stairs
I don’t like stairs. I don’t do them well. I take a step up and my left knee lets me know that cartilage is a word I should understand. Still, back in May, I felt God’s nudge for me to commit to “doing the Incline”. My first reaction was that He was nuts. At least, that’s what I thought of everyone else who did the Incline. Seems they do it for fun. Fun? Perhaps they don’t know what the word means. Fun = enjoyment, amusement, or lighthearted pleasure. Key word…pleasure. Sweat and pleasure are not words that go together in my head. Or at least, they weren’t. Well, maybe they were a few years back but that was a few years back. I’m doing the State of Slim program outlined in the book of the same name. Research shows that to lose weight, nutrition is the driving force. To keep the weight off, exercise is paramount. With that in mind, one of the key facets to the program is exercising 6 days a week for a minimum of 70 minutes. And yes, I have been doing it. Just ask my knees. They call sweating, “Making your fat cry.” I really like that. Cry away baby. So…I did the incline. Because God told me to commit to it and because I told you in a previous blog that I would. This was my practice run. I thought I’d bail at the half waypoint with no shame whatsoever. I didn’t. I made it to the top one slow step after the other and my fat wasn’t crying, it was wailing and gnashing its teeth. But it wasn’t merely hard. It was holy. In front of me, setting the pace was my son Blaine followed closely by his wife Emilie. Now, these two are in shape. Just to let you know how good of shape, Blaine climbed the Incline with my younger son a couple of years ago with a municycle (think mountain bike meets unicycle) strapped to each of their backs. They did this so they could ride down the Barr trail after reaching the top. By the way, it’s 1 mile up with an elevation gain of over 2,000 feet and 4 miles back down using the side trail. Did I mention the municylcle? All that to say is, Blaine could have run up the Incline. But he didn’t. He was ever before me keeping the pace at a slow and steady rhythm. People passed us and then later on, we passed them as they gasped for breath. Blaine knew what he was doing. Behind me was my husband, John. He is another person who is in fantastic shape. I would feel his touch gentle on my back a few times as we went up just to let me know he was there. And once, once he caught me as I lost my balance and slipped on the dirt. He Was Right There. He never even thought of passing me. I was surrounded. I was surrounded by family and a great cloud of witnesses supporting me, cheering me on, encouraging me, believing in me, going the distance with me. I was surrounded by love. I was surrounded by mercy. I was surrounded by their humble sacrifice and I was weeping. That’s what I mean by holy. It was their choice to accompany me and they would say it was their joy. They were JOYFUL. My sweat was dripping on the dirt in front of me, my tears streaming down my face, plop, plop, plop and THEY WERE JOYFUL. It was for the joy set before Him that Jesus endured the cross. He didn’t have to. He chose to. You and I are forever surrounded by love. We are surrounded by mercy. We are surrounded by our King’s humble sacrifice and it is worth our grateful tears. God invites us to do hard things but He never abandons us in them. He helps us to prepare. He strengthens us on the way. He urges us on. He delights in our tries and he celebrates our victories. He rejoices over us with singing. He relishes our faith. He loves it when we make our flesh weep and gnash its teeth. As I climbed the Incline, I had my headset on, music playing in my ears. “Strong Enough” by Matthew West was a theme. Know that one? You must think I'm strong To give me what I'm going through Well, forgive me Forgive me if I'm wrong But this looks like more than I can do On my own I know I'm not strong enough to be everything that I'm supposed to be I give up I'm not strong enough Hands of mercy won't you cover me Lord right now I'm asking you to be Strong enough Strong enough For the both of us Well, maybe Maybe that's the point To reach the point of giving up Cause when I'm finally Finally at rock bottom Well, that's when I start looking up And reaching out I know I'm not strong enough to be Everything that I'm supposed to be I give up I'm not strong enough Hands of mercy won't you cover me Lord right now I'm asking you to be Strong enough Strong enough It was pretty perfect. God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. If He tells me to do something then I know He will give me the strength to do it. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. Beloved, we can trust Him. Is He asking you to do something difficult? He will give you the strength. Psalm 28:7, Hebrews 12:2, Ephesians 2:10, Lamentations 3:22, 23, Phil 2:5, Zeph 3:17 P.S. I’m committing to doing the Incline again at the end of this month. I’ll post the date on my Stasi Eldredge Facebook page when I know it and if you’d like to join me, one slow step at a time, please do!
Stasi Eldredge
Choose Your Hard
This blog is a bit of a confession. Here goes. I thought that following God and being a Christian would lead to a life that was kind of easy, filled only with joy, free from pain and sorrow. Silly me. I’m not even sure where I got that idea except for teachings often spouted by popular TV evangelists espousing a prosperity “name it and claim it” doctrine. It tickles the ears, doesn’t it? It’s so appealing this thought that if you are a true believer you are spared suffering. It is also completely contrary to what the scriptures teach. If Jesus was perfected through his suffering, who are we to think we won’t be perfected through the same means? (Heb 2:10) Now don’t get me wrong. Jesus came that we might have life and life to the FULL. (John 10:10) It’s the JOY of the LORD that is our strength. (Neh 8:10) It’s just that the JOY and the LIFE come to us in the midst of the easy and the hard, the triumphs and the travails. Christ sustains us and strengthens us but this is not Eden we find ourselves living in these days. We are not in Heaven. Not yet. Life is hard. Life is good. And life is hard. As maturing believers, we have many opportunities to CHOOSE OUR HARD. Here’s some things I’ve learned: It’s hard to stand up against the group when they are going the wrong direction – spiritually or any other way. It’s hard on our conscious afterwards if we don’t. That Jiminy Cricket won’t be quiet. It’s hard to be kind to the mean, curmudgeonly neighbor. It’s hard as well to be convicted of being unloving later. It’s hard to not spend the money on the item we so desire. It’s hard to save money. It’s also hard to be in debt. It’s hard to have a loving but tough confrontational conversation with a friend. It’s hard to not have one and then have offense and distance creep into that friendship. It’s hard to fight for a marriage. It’s hard to lose a marriage. It’s hard to break an addiction. It’s hard to be captive to one. Choose your hard. It’s hard to set aside time every single day and press into the heart of God. Sometimes, it’s hard to pray. It’s hard to find the time. It’s hard to live your day with strength, hope and integrity if you don’t. It’s hard to pursue Living Water. It’s hard to live in a dry and thirsty land without it. Choose your hard. It’s hard to eat healthy. It’s hard to plan meals that are good for you. It’s hard to say no to temptation and pass the plate of brownies to others without taking one. It’s hard to set the alarm and get out of bed when you are tired and get up to exercise on a regular basis. It’s hard. It’s hard to be out of breath after climbing a set of stairs. It’s hard to not be able to fit into a chair with arms. It’s hard to squeeze into an airplane seat. It’s hard to not find any cute clothes in your size. It’s hard to not like looking at pictures of yourself. It’s hard to live with shame and embarrassment. Choose your hard. It’s hard to fight for and guard your heart. It’s hard to lose it. We get to choose our hard. Think about your life. It’s not all hard. There’s so much good and there are countless things to be grateful for. In fact, one of my habits is to utter the words, “Thank You” as soon as I wake up. My life is hidden in Christ and my life is blessed because of him. It’s so good to cultivate a grateful heart. I have no idea what is coming my way on any given day and neither do you but why not expect good things? In fact, I can tell you this with utter certainty, good things are ALWAYS COMING YOUR WAY. A great good is coming. A greater good than you can even imagine. I also play “The Best Day of My Life” by American Authors when I work out in the morning. I’m going to set it as my ring tone. Because, really, it may just be the best day of my life. I won’t truly know until much later. I can guess that there are going to be hard things in the day. In every day. But the hard I am choosing is to follow Christ wherever he leads and that hard leads to life and joy. Always. Even in the midst of suffering. Choose life. Choose joy. Choose thankfulness. Choose Jesus. Choose to obey. Choose the good. Choose your hard wisely. P.S. For those that are interested, “Choose your hard” is a phrase I learned recently while reading “State of Slim” by Drs. James Hill and Holly Wyatt. It’s a book to help folks who want to lose weight and become stronger, healthier in every way. I am following their program and I recommend it to anyone who, like me, has some weight to lose and strength to gain. It’s not a diet. It’s a lifestyle. And it’s hard. I’m choosing it.
Stasi Eldredge
No Fear in Love
Summer in Colorado is a marvelous thing. The people that populate the state are some of the fittest in the nation and rate as the slimmest. Come summer, gyms empty and the outdoor activities, always rampant, explode. Hiking. Climbing. Running. Biking. Racing. Swimming. If it’s outdoors, they’re doing it and my family is in the thick of them. Or rather, my husband and my children are in the thick of it. For many years, my not fit and not slim body has prevented me from joining them. But that’s only partly true. What has kept me from participating is…fear. And now they want to go down the Colorado River in inflatable single kayaks and navigate the rapids with joy. Do I stay or do I go? Years past, I would have been afraid the rental company wouldn’t have the required life vest to fit me. I’d be afraid that I might not fit in the kayak. I’d even be afraid that I’d have to go to the bathroom half way down and there would be no place to stop. I was afraid that I’d be too afraid to ask them to stop! I was afraid that I’d hit a rock and go under but much more terrified that someone in my family would. Who thinks this stuff is fun? Do not give way to fear. (1 Pet 3:5) God has not given us a spirit of fear but of love, power and a sound mind. (2 Tim 1:7) Fear is a familiar companion to many of us but it tries to hide its true nature and stay in the shadows of our souls. “I’m not here. This is just wisdom”, it lies. But fear is not our ally, not our friend, and definitely not our helper. Still for most, it runs deep. It causes us to not trust. It came to us through wounds and pain and because of it, we shrink back. But we do not belong to those who shrink back. (Hebrews 10:39) At least we are not meant to. Fear causes us to make agreements like, “I cannot trust you will stay so I will do everything in my power to make you stay.” Or, “I cannot trust that I will not be hurt so I will keep my distance from everyone.” Or “I cannot trust that you will not be hurt so I will do my best to keep you as safe as possible in every conceivable way.” Yet God wants us to trust. To trust Him. Often times in the scriptures, the word “trust” had been translated to “faith”. Perhaps it’s easier to understand when we substitute “trust” back into some of the scriptures. “Without trust, it is impossible to please God.” “Hold up the shield of trust”. Because God is nothing if not trustworthy. He is good. He is faithful. He is for us. He has proven it. “For God so loved the world that he sent his one and only son that whosoever believe in him will not perish but have eternal life!" (John 3:16) That is, life with Him! United forever! YAY! God is trustworthy and is moved only by love. Yesterday. Today. Forever. Look around. Look at the beauty and the splendor of creation. Look at the majesty presented in the sunrise, in the sunset, and in the stars; the sky is strewn with abundant glory. Look at the generous extravagance displayed in a field of wild flowers, in a bee, in a tree, in a baby. Look even at the Colorado River flowing with endless whimsy, wonder and strength. Look at you. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, a vessel of the Holy Spirit, the very dwelling place of God because HE LOVES YOU and wants to share your life with you every single moment. He is our Partner. He is our Ally. He is our Friend. He is our Helper. We can trust him. And because we can trust him, we no longer have to live in fear but we can step out in trust…in faith…and live with His strength. Where is He inviting you to trust Him? With your family? With your lack of one? With an adventure, a move, a class, a friendship, a kayak trip? Where is He asking you to step out in faith and not go forward in your own strength, but His? In your own healing? In pursuing more of His life for you, in you? Finally, be strong in the Lord and the strength of his might. Eph 6:10. Yes, of course, there is a place for wisdom. Wisdom is essential. Don’t go jumping off a bridge. Don’t throw your precious heart out there for everyone. Guard your heart and wear your seat belts. Helmets and life vests are your friend. And, yes, the world is in disarray and chaos. Grief, loss, suffering, and all kinds of pain are real. They’re even guaranteed. Even so, yes, even so, we don’t have to live in fear. We can pray: “Jesus come and uproot our fear. Replace it with a revelation of your goodness. Overwhelm our fear with your love. Come into the gap in our souls between what we profess to believe and what we truly do. We want to know You. Deeply. Truly. In the way that lends itself to so easily trust You. Come for us again oh, Faithful Friend.” “Don’t be afraid. Just believe.” ~ Jesus (Mark 5:36) So yes, on a simpler, easier note, I am going to float the rapids in an inflatable kayak with my family. And I will pray for our safety and wisdom and God’s protection. And I will do it with JOY. I hope to have my eyes open and my heart aware and attentive - on the lookout for God’s gifts of beauty and love that he is always, always, always generously scattering around us to draw our hearts to His beckoning us to come close, to trust Him, and to love Him in response. I will do this and much harder soul-searching things because our God is good and I can trust Him. Because He is beckoning and I do not want to shrink back. Because my life is a gift and I want to live it. Because He loves me, I don’t have to be afraid. . Because God is my strength and in Him I am strong as well. I am His strong girl, His very own strong woman. And so are you. P.S. About the T-shirts. The verse on the “Strong Woman” and “Strong Girl” t-shirts is Eph 6:10! The “Strong Woman” T’s are available to order only until July 10th. If we don’t reach the minimum they won’t be made. As of 7/2/15, we’re close to the goal but not there yet. Tell your friends! The “Strong Girl” t-shirts are available to order until July 14th. They have passed their goal and definitely will be made. They will be shipped 5-10 days after the 14th. Bless you, friends. He is our trustworthy strength and in Him, we are strong as well. http://teespring.com/strong-2015
Stasi Eldredge
Journals We Think Are Particularly Cool
A secret fishing hole. A hidden point break. The best carnitas tacos in town. There’s nothing like a good tip from somebody you have at least marginal confidence in. So, in a spirit of generosity towards what might be viewed as “competitors,” we thought we’d turn you on to some of our favorite (other) journals. One, because we love finding great reads, and Two, because we remain confident that even if we tell you about the other guys, no one is doing anything close to what we’re doing. So, here we go; this is what’s on our nightstand or in our bathroom… Overland Journal A quarterly gem on some of the coolest vehicular adventures and the requisite gear for them (thus, over land journal). Put out by some guys who self-describe as, “Adventurers. Constantly traveling. Testing and using gear in real-world situations. Gaining experience, which we readily share.” It is an understatement. By adventures they mean stuff like (in the Spring 2015 issue) four dudes who drive—yes, drive—across Antarctica in specially equipped Toyota Hilux trucks. Some of our earlier favorites were a single gal in her 30s who rode a revved-up moped across Vietnam in search of the infamous Ho Chi Minh Trail, and, a bit closer to reality, great BMW GS bike trips across Death Valley. Fabulous photography, good adventure writing, truly helpful gear reviews. And the ads alone are worth it, because they are on some of the coolest adventure gear on the planet. In fact, it was this journal that sealed our plans to make our second film series about a GS bike adventure through the backcountry of Colorado this August (stay tuned!). I was on a return flight home from some business trip I didn’t really want to be on, dog tired, crammed in the middle seat between two robust Ukrainians, and I took out this journal for a little medication. I opened to a review of “dual sport” adventure bikes, and as I read, that wonderful “still small voice” whispered inside, You should do it. We now have six used GS bikes in hand and plans are under way. Good proof for the inspirational power of any read. The Drake There are fly fishing magazines and then there is The Drake—a hip and stubborn departure from the fish-porn of most mags, featuring, yes, great articles on where the good fishing is—all around the world. (Fly fishing in India? You betcha. Tiger fish in Tanzania? Just mind the crocs.) But also great features closer to home, like Yellowstone cuts and Adirondack brookies and Olympic Peninsula steelhead and the bass in your local pond. Thoughtful essays on protecting the creation we love, new developments in gear and also fisheries management, good book and trend reviews, all done in a rather sassy “canned beer” sort of culture (like the recent article on how to find killer carp on the fly ten minutes from your own downtown, while sleeping out of your car). Again, the ads are almost worth the price (“Five dollars. Ten for bait fisherman.”) The advertisers got the groove and the ads are funny, irreverent and feature some very cool gear. Articles are all written to fit a very specific time slot—about the time it takes to take care of…business, if you catch our meaning. Very Drake. Backpacker Hang on—if you do anything outdoors, this magazine is worth your nickel. Yes, it is obviously on hiking, trekking and backpacking. But it also features phenomenal intel on good wilderness and great beauty not far from your door, with maps and websites offering more. Regular features on first aid, survival, gourmet camp cooking, physical training, outdoor photography techniques and more give you an idea of why even non-backpackers will dig this rag. And yes, even if you simply want great beta on day hikes, this is the place to look. Now, we don’t particularly appreciate it when they run a feature on some of our favorite “hidden spots” (now hidden no more), but hey—we are generous enough to recognize that the more people love the outdoors, the more they are going to care for it and frankly, we think being outdoors is really good for human beings and does all sorts of wonderful things for the soul. Dreaming of backpacking through Scotland? They got you covered. Jordan? No problem (well, other than armed conflict, which is outside the magazine’s responsibilities). We love their regular “off the beaten path” info on the National Parks. Plus, their gear reviews are famous. Like, they really go out and test all sorts of stuff in all sorts of climates and conditions and tell you what works and what doesn’t and where the really good deals are. Sunglasses, headlamps, running shoes, knives, rain gear, stoves, UPF clothing, camp showers, tents…you get the idea. These guys have been around forever, and we’re really glad they survived the widespread magazine collapse of the late ‘90s. Eastman’s Bowhunting Journal Okay, okay—this is no doubt a highly specialized niche. However, if you hunt at all or have even considered hunting, this is a great place to get an education. Lots of “DIY” stories each month on regular guys out there trying to make it happen on public land (as opposed to, for example, Safari Journal, which we also enjoy but frankly has a pretty high bar when it comes to the kind of adventures they feature). We like the blue-collar culture of the journal, which positions itself as “The Original Resource for Hardcore Western Bowhunting.” Look—even if you don’t hunt, there is a part of your soul that needs something to break the malaise of those 42 hours in your cubicle each week, and the features in this mag will take you to those places vicariously. Plus, the beta they provide on how, where and when to apply for hunting tags across the Western states, by species and units and trends, is a staggering amount of research you could never pull off for yourself. Give the Robin Hood in you a treat. Cigar Aficionado Put out by the guys that do Wine Spectator (let’s not forget Cana!). Look, we’ll be honest—both magazines have their serious faults. They are high-gloss, slightly arrogant, utterly worldly and definitely trying to give you the “you just got welcomed into the back room of a very cool bar” vibe. Leather chairs and all. We admit that right up front. But both rags are worth the reviews—here, regular cigar reviews, and we really appreciate the fact that while they flaunt their Cuban connections they also reveal where the killer smokes are for under $10, which is, well, wonderful. We learned about Brick House here, and Flor de Las Antillas, along with a bunch of our other faves. Good articles on famous “smokers,” including a recent fascinating interview with Liam Neeson, who we also happen to love. (Did you know his nose got broken in a former boxing “career” attempt, and that’s why he has that tough-guy look? I mean, c’mon. That’s just, well, cool.) We take the whole James Bond affectation tongue in cheek. Think of this one as plundering the Egyptians. Mars Hill Audio Journal Yep, time for a curveball. No bows, winches, reels or Honduran wrappers here. This is a very insightful audio journal bringing some of the best Christian thought on the arts, culture, science, politics—stuff that actually matters in the world. (Not that this other stuff doesn’t matter, but there is a hierarchy of importance, yes.) Ken Myers was an up-and-coming NPR reporter, bright guy, perfect radio persona. NPR came to him, knowing he was an intelligent and reflective Christian, along the lines of a C.S. Lewis, and they offered him his own show helping explain the Church to the world. He went and thought about the offer, came back and said, “No. My calling, I now realize, is the opposite—I want to explain the world to the Church.” So he started his own thing. And explain he does, via interviews with leading thinkers on everything from genetic engineering to Tolkien’s mythic writing to the imagination of our aforementioned hero, C.S. Lewis. Great, great stuff. Perfect for your car or your iPod. Your brain will grow. Your soul will, too. Okay, we’ll stop there. For now. Holding off on our desire to rave about Rock and Ice or Surfing or some other goodies that maybe we’ll come around to next time. Meanwhile, if you’ve got a great recommend, post it on And Sons social! Share the joy. After all, we only come out once a month, and we know you promptly devour And Sons, and then what? Here are some great additions to your water closet. As seen in And Sons Magazine, our online magazine for men.
John Eldredge
Strong Girl...Continued!
Yes, it’s a theme. It’s going to remain a theme for a while because I want to press into it almost as much as I want to press into the heart of God. (But nothing can come close to that!) This summer, I feel like I am just beginning to scratch the surface of God’s endless, boundless, fathomless, measureless, expansive, overwhelming, we’re-swimming-in-it LOVE. That is who He is. Love. And the fruit of dwelling in His love is pure joy and thankfulness and awe. It’s in His love that we live. It’s because of that love that we offer. It’s from that love that we find our strength. And we want to find our strength. Jesus did. And the child grew and became strong; he was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was on him. Luke 2:40 And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man. Luke 2:52 We are meant to grow in wisdom and stature as well; to grow in spiritual strength; to grow in our ability to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ; to grow in our knowledge of Him and His Word. To grow up up up up up. To become stronger and stronger and stronger. Being strong is more important than being thin or popular or basically anything else we’ve thought was important. We are loved. Already. Done and done. Can’t get any more of it. Can’t lose it. But we can become stronger…and we are meant to. Jesus grew in wisdom and strength and it was counted to Him an honor. It brought His Dad glory and pleasure. We get to do that too! So I’m making T-shirts! Nice seg-way, huh. I’m using Teespring and you can have one too! They’re for women, (sorry fellas) and they say either “Strong Girl” or “Strong Woman”. (Strong Woman is coming soon…my son is the graphic designer and he’s away for a bit now). Anyway, I’m getting both. They’re for wearing when you hike or work out or dance around the kitchen or feel like you are slogging through your day. They’re to help you REMEMBER both who you are and who you are becoming. (Sadly, they only go up to size 2X.) You are STRONG! I’m going to wear mine when I doggedly climb the incline in early September. I’ll let you know that date in case any of you are in the neighborhood and are training for it too and want to do it with me. We can all wear our T-shirts together! A group of Strong Girls cheering for each other in the love of God! Oh, and P.S. You can order these UNTIL JULY 14, 2015! Also, This is not to make money. Any profits are going to be donated to Wild at Heart’s fund for scholarships for women growing in strength to attend the Captivating retreats. God bless your day, your week, and your summer. You are loved loved loved loved loved. And in His love, you are STRONG! Here’s the link for the T-shirts! This one is bright pink with white writing: http://teespring.com/strong-girl This one is white with black writing: http://teespring.com/new-strong-girl
Stasi Eldredge
Strong Girl. Strong Woman.
When I go hiking with my family I always bring up the rear. This began when they were little tikes in an attempt to keep them from wandering off the path or killing each other. John was the engine, leading the way through bush and brush and I was the caboose making sure no one was lost along the way. It worked. Ok, it almost worked. No one was lost but certainly there were falls and scrapes and sticks and stones that cut and bruised and yes, there was that one time when somebody kicked a log only to discover the wasp nest underneath. Hey, we survived. Truth is, I kind of liked pulling up the rear. I could see what was happening and better, I didn’t slow anyone down by my snail like pace. I’ve never been as fit as my mountain climbing, black belt earning, adventuring husband. But that’s been okay. Mostly. As soon as my sons could run, they could out run me. And that’s been okay, too. Pretty much. They are strong men. What hasn’t felt so great is the praise I’ve gotten for making it to the top of the same hill everyone else has gotten to twenty minutes before me. “Way to go, Mom!” “Well done, Stasi!” Sheesh. I’m looking forward to the day when my barely keeping up with the pack is not cause de celeb. (And yes, they are so kind and encouraging and I love them for it. But you get my point, right?) Goals change as we get older and that’s a good thing. We mature. We wake up to the world around us. Some dreams get set aside out of a loss of heart but some get set aside because we got our heart back! We learn what truly matters. Regarding our beauty, hopefully we mature to understand that everything said about inner beauty being more important than outer beauty is ALL TRUE! It’s not the form of a woman’s body that’s of the utmost importance; it’s the form of her soul. When I talk with younger women there is a burning desire that rises in my heart for them. It is the same one that I have for you, whatever your age may be, and for myself. I want them to be strong. Strong in faith. Strong in spirit. Strong in their souls. Strong as their bodies will allow. I want them to pursue strength more diligently than flawless skin or a perfect figure or the lovely hair de jour. I want them seek it more passionately than straight A’s or being popular or chosen by others. I want them to choose themselves with strength of heart because they already have been chosen! You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit – fruit that will last. (John 15:16) And that’s why my goal these days is no longer a number but increasing strength. Strength will serve our girls and us well. It will help us all to stand upright and not fall down when pushed against by the world’s current. It will give us the courage to pursue God and serve Him wholeheartedly when those around us are chasing whatever the world says is currently “hip”. Strength will help us let the world’s vain promises slip through our fingers while by God’s grace we cling tenaciously to His. Strength. That’s what grace means by the way. It doesn’t mean forgiveness. It means God’s supernatural strength through which we live a life that pleases Him, brings us and others joy and yes, bears much lasting fruit! Last September I received an urgent request for prayer from the sister of a man who is a missionary in what is now ISIS controlled territory. Children were being given a choice to renounce Jesus or be killed while kneeling in front of their parents. At the time of his call, every single child had refused to renounce Jesus. His prayer request was that he too would have their same courage when they came for him. “They overcome him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; and they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.” (Revelation 12:11) For the Christian, death does not have the final say. Jesus has overcome death. It has lost its sting. Death is now the forerunner to Heaven. These children knew that and knelt to it, committing their spirits to God. I am in awe of them. I want to be like them. This is the kind of strength I am talking about and it doesn’t roll in on a tray. It is cultivated day by day by a deep and steadfast pursuit of and belief in the King of Kings. “The LORD, the LORD, is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation.” Isaiah 12:2 We need to pursue strength with our spirits, our souls and our bodies! Pursue the heart of our Father with our own. I am chasing after Him. I need God desperately. Additionally, I’m pushing myself physically this summer because it is all intertwined. We are body, soul and spirit. I’m climbing hills. I’m working out. I’m cleaning up my food act. (Well, I am at least, once again, trying to.) And I’m doing none of it in an effort to become more valuable as a daughter of God or more worthy of his affection. That is not even possible because He has declared that I already am. So are you. For me, being weak in some areas has meant that I am more vulnerable to shame and when I’m vulnerable to shame, I can too easily succumb to the accusations of the evil one. I can fall down inside. And stay down. And honestly, God is using that too teaching me about the boundless, endless, fathomless, unconditional love of the Father. He is using my weakness to draw me to Him. Because of Him, today, I’m standing up and saying “No” again to the accusation of the enemy and asking for God’s strength to believe that there is nothing I could possibly do to earn more of his love. I have it. I can rest in it. It is because I am so loved that I am choosing to press on where he would have me go and grow. Or shrink. Or not. Or whatever. I just want HIM. And to be strong in him. Don’t you? By the end of the summer, I have a personal goal to be strong enough to climb the famous Incline in Colorado Springs no matter how long it takes me. My family wants to do it with me. When we do, I will most likely be the last in our line of hikers but that’s okay. I like the view. Something in my maternal heart rests when I see everyone safe ahead of me. And as I walk up, up, up this summer, I will be praying. With strength. For increasing strength. Join me! #stronggirl.strongwoman Finally, be strong in the Lord and the strength of His might. (Ephesians 6:10) (Also, here’s my theme song for the summer. I am praying it, proclaiming it, dancing to it, driving to it, cleaning toilets to it. You get the idea. Press play and Repeat 1. Soul on Fire – Third Day www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7lv9oMjv_0) Want information on the Colorado Incline? You’ll find it here! www.manitouincline.com
Stasi Eldredge
Defensiveness
Defensiveness. What does that word stir in you? About a year ago, my wife and I were talking with a counselor I’d spent some time with when my wife said, "Thank you for giving me back my Bart." I turned to her and replied, "Sweetheart, I have always been here." Our counselor friend interjected, "STOP! Do you realize how defensive that statement is?" Having no idea what he was speaking of, I replied, "No." I was totally clueless as to his point regarding the statement I’d made to Tannah. What had started as a conversation of gratitude soon turned into a counseling session for me. Our counselor said, "Defensiveness is one of the most egregious and seductive sins we can commit. We become our own advocate rather than allowing Christ to be our advocate." I was so deeply seduced by and submerged in defensiveness that it was unrecognizable to me! It got me pondering the defensiveness l exhibit. As I became aware of this new category of brokenness and sin and how it played out in my life, WOW—I was shocked. I realized I am defensive in so many areas of my life and personality; it shows up in most of my conversations with people. When I become defensive, I have to ask myself, “What is my motive?” In the story above, my motive was self-justification; I was trying to deflect my wife’s comment by defending that I am and have always been the person she wants. The counselor discovered otherwise from my comment. Sometimes defensiveness is justified and holy, but I now ask myself these questions to qualify mine: “What is my motive for being defensive?” and "Am I being my own advocate or am I allowing Christ to be my advocate?" I’m finding that asking these questions eliminates such things as manipulation, argument, and self-exaltation (things I am repenting of). I’m learning that defensiveness is very deeply ingrained in my being, and I have much left to discover in this area with God. So I ask you again, what does "defensiveness" stir in you?
Bart Hansen
Western heART
I want to ride to the ridge where the West commences I can’t look at hobbles and I can’t stand fences Don’t fence me in. -Cole Porter The places we love call to us because they are, in fact, “the landscape of our soul.” I don’t mean the landscape of our childhood or of some special memory. The landscapes we love speak powerfully to us, they call to us, because the country corresponds to the actual terrain of our interior world, the landscape of our soul. That is why one man feels such a deep connection to the deserts of the Southwest, while another feels it with the ocean, or hardwood forests, or the high country above timberline. When we go there, we feel as if we have come home. I find the same thing to be true of art—when you find a painter or a style that you really love, you’re also encountering something that speaks to the geography of your own soul. For me, it has always been Western art. Not the cheesy John Wayne-on-black-velvet stuff you see at swap meets. I’m talking especially about the early classics—Remington, Russell, Moran, Runguis—painters who captured the heart of the West in the late 1800s. Their work expresses the ethos of the landscape and lifestyle that have a mythic place in my heart. The more I looked into their lives, the more I loved the story they lived. Runguis’s biography is entitled Fifty Years with Brush and Rifle. I bought it for the title alone, partly because I thought, That is a fabulous life, and partly because of a conversation I had recently had. “You’re the first thoughtful, artistic person I’ve ever met who also hunts.” The comment was made with wonder and confusion by a very reflective man, a student of human nature. The surprise he felt in the apparent “obvious” contradiction of “artistic” and “hunter” is a reflection of assumptions held by many thoughtful people in the 21st Century, whose lives have become almost completely separated from wild places and from the sources of their food. But it would have been foreign to the people who lived before the age of TV dinners and frozen burritos. Runguis was a hunter and painter; he lived out in the woods for months at a time, in the Wind River Range in Wyoming, pursuing big game, drawing sketches, and studying the wildlife that he would become so famous for. Whereas many so-called “western artists” stayed in the East and painted their horses using as models the ones you see on children’s carousels. Born and trained in Germany, Runguis cut all ties with the Old World after his first hunting trip to the Rocky Mountain west. “My heart is in the West,” he explained. I know exactly what he meant—he found the landscape of his soul. Charlie Russell is another fascinating story—he came out West to work as a cowboy and live among the hard characters he would so powerfully portray. Born in then a rather tame Missouri, he dreamed about the Wild West and like many boys after him read every story about it he could lay his hands on. The call of the West seized him at sixteen, so he dropped out of school and went to work on a ranch in Montana. Like Runguis, he never looked back, moving from ranch to ranch as a hired hand. In 1888 he lived with the Blackfeet Indians, and much of his work portrays an intimate knowledge of the Native American way of life. What I love about these guys is that they plunged into the world they would eventually paint. Their knowledge was firsthand; it was hard-earned, and it gives me a respect for their work. Russell’s painting “Loops and Swift Horses” seems incredible—except to the men who lived in the saddle, and yes, did this very thing. (I know some old cowboys who would chase down bull elk and lasso them.) Remington spent a lot of time living and painting among the U.S. Cavalry, and many of his works are based on true stories he heard from officers. Unlike Russell, who lived among the Indians and was welcomed as one of their own, Remington was influenced with an “anti-red man” bias from the soldiers he hung out with, and some of his work romanticizes the accounts from a Cavalry point of view. But overall, his paintings and sculptures are worthy to have become iconic, mythic, nearly synonymous with the Old West. Thomas Moran paints in the style of the “Hudson River School” he was a part of, but his work out West is what earned him a national reputation. I love his “Cliffs of the Green River” (above). What’s really cool about Moran’s story is that his work helped establish Yellowstone as a National Park. He came west with the Hayden expedition in 1871, and painted both the Yellowstone and Teton regions. It was those images that helped win national support for the protection of Yellowstone. (Mt Moran, named after him, is our favorite peak in the Tetons). But I’ve been writing on the landscape of my heart. The real question is, what is yours? Has it occurred to you that the geography you love is a mirror image of the landscape of your soul? It might be good to go back and look at photographs, or visit the place again, and let that thought take you deeper. I would do the same with art—don’t just put up any old image in your home or office. Find those works that call to and feed your soul. There is a terrain in you that needs to find its counterpart in the world.
John Eldredge
The Man on the Train
I saw your wife this morning grab for the pole as the train at Denver International Airport lurched into movement. She bumped you. You were irritated. “I need to hold on,” I heard her explain apologetically. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. Did you really just flick the fat under her arm with contempt so that it swayed? No. You did not. You couldn’t have. In this public space no one would humiliate his or her spouse. My breath caught in my throat. I did not see that. I did see you move to the side of the car and watched as she moved to stand beside you. I saw the hardness in your eyes. Did you see the hurt in hers? I did. Then I knew it was true. You had just publicly shamed your wife. My eyes sought hers in my desire to offer her both mercy and the solidarity of sisterly camaraderie. We are both women. We both belong to the same jiggly arm club. Her eyes did not meet mine. I could see that you, Man on the Train, are in shape. You were wearing clothes to highlight the fact. I could see that your wife is not. She was wearing clothes to hide the fact. Did you think that by publicly humiliating her you would motivate her to join you at the gym? Because I can tell you, that is never going to work. Can you say, “Backfire”? You will never shame your wife into becoming a woman whose arms don’t wiggle. You will never motivate her to change along the ways you might desire by mocking her, by not treating her with the dignity she, as a human being, deserves. But I want to thank you, Mr. Train Man, because I was tired this morning. I was complacent and weary and your act of cruelty (and that’s what it was) shocked me out of it. You awakened my passion and my zeal for the world to be right – for people to behave – for human beings to treat one another with the respect they deserve. Maybe you don’t think it was such a big deal. After all, you didn’t shoot her. You didn’t punch her in the face. No, but you punched her in the heart and by the look on her face it was clear that it was a well-worn path of pain. It was a Big Deal. It often feels like the world is going to hell in a hand basket. I’m horrified by the multitude of atrocities being inflicted by human beings against one another in our nation and around the world. I’m stunned by the wickedness. And so I’m sad I didn’t gasp on that train this morning and in some small way let you know how out of line your actions were because the horror starts here. People, it starts here. Backhanded blows of bullying and contempt may seem small but in other corners of life explode into racism, sex trafficking, child slavery and untold oppression against the weak, the disenfranchised, the different. They are actions that are cut from the same contemptuous cloth. Hatred. Sin. Evil. Forgive me, if I am ranting now but I am indignant. I am raging against the minor and major assaults taken upon a person’s dignity that cause layer upon layer of harm. I’m old enough to have witnessed plenty of them, endured my share and doled out too many of my own. But I do not want to remain complacent and weary, overwhelmed by the ugliness that too often takes center stage on our newsreels and in our neighborhoods and numbs our souls. I want to change the world. There, I said it. I want to change the world and I want the world to change. And it starts with me. It begins with you, too. It starts here in what feels like an upside down Kingdom way. It starts with love. It begins with Jesus. That’s where the power to change the world comes from. I want Jesus to live his life through me. And so, maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t gasp this morning or say out loud, “No, you didn’t!” because rather than validating your wife, Mr., I might simply have joined the parade of human indignities by shaming you. Even if maybe, I think you deserve some shaming. OK, I confess I don’t know all that you need but I do know this. You need a Savior. Your wife needs a Savior. I need a Savior. We have One waiting. And he understands contempt and callous disregard. He understands bullying and people not being treated with the dignity they ought. He is well acquainted with suffering and shame and punches and wounds to the body and to the heart. Come to him. I’m running to him again. Begging him to COME! To intervene. To help us all move in small and large ways to make the world a kinder, safer, better place for gym rats and jiggly arms. For the abused and the abuser. For the callous and the cowardly. For the beaten down, the beaten up and the broken hearted. That is, to come for me. To come for you. To come for us all. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the presence of a woman who is in an abusive relationship. Longer since I’ve witnessed it. Now, I wonder how I missed reading the signs immediately. Your stance, Mr. Man on the Train, was angry. You were conveying utter control. I saw it in your ramrod posture, in your perfectly trimmed beard, in your neatly pressed clothes, in your cowed wife. She was not in control. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair unkempt, pulled back into a hasty ponytail. Her eyes did not register dismay or shock but merely a deserved resignation. I’m so sorry. The statistics are that 25% of women in the U.S. are in abusive relationships – physical, sexual and emotional. One in four. Reader, if you’re not surprised, it’s possible that either you are in one or have been raised in one. Or perhaps, like me, you too have grown numb in places you don’t want to be. Because you should be shocked. Dismayed. Gnashing your teeth. This is not how it is supposed to be. Before John, I was in a relationship for three years that became abusive. I felt trapped. Hopeless. Emotionally beaten down. I had no choice but to stay as my sense of self and self worth had vaporized. And I am a strong woman. But if you met the woman I was then, you would not recognize me. The utter disdain I felt for myself bled into how I treated others including the man I was in a relationship with. It was ugly. And still, in the quiet echoes of my soul, God was calling me. He was insistent and strong. I would have died had I not heeded his call. I gave up all friendships, all relationships when I did. Jesus saved my life. He is saving me still. We wonder why women stay in abusive relationships. I have tasted why they stay. Fear. Self hatred. A spirit so beaten down that leaving is not an option. For too many, they believe there is no choice to be made. BUT GOD. Reader, what is your “But God…” sentence? Do you have one? But God intervened. But God changed my heart. But God gave me the courage. But God pursued. But God turned things around. But God brought my child home. But God provided. But God protected us. But God forgave me. But God won. Because God is mightier. Stronger. Better. God’s love is overwhelmingly powerful. He is good. He gives us the free will to choose him and when we don’t he continually presents himself as the better way. He IS the Way. The Truth. The Life. I choose you today, Jesus. I pray for that Man on the Train to choose you. I pray for his wife to choose you. I pray God for the oppressed and broken hearted that by your fiery love – you break through, break in, break free and do what you love to do. In Jesus’ Mighty Name. It looks bleak sometimes friends. But God. “He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”[ Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” Luke 4:16 - 21
Stasi Eldredge
It's Not What You Think It Is
Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after. — Henry David Thoreau If you’ve watched any sports television in the last few months—the Super Bowl, or twenty minutes of March Madness—you’ve seen at least one of the commercials for Game of War. You saw the buxom blonde bombshell striding or galloping on horseback through battlefields, urging and taunting timid soldiers on to great and daring feats. Challenging rulers to rule, or be forgotten. Calling boys to be men. I loathe those ads. I loathe them because they brilliantly play upon the masculine heart, without the masculine heart knowing what exactly it is they are playing upon. Most of the Game of War ads end with the seductress looking straight at the viewer with a provocative invitation that also feels like a challenge: “Want to come and play?” I guarantee you that the viewer isn’t thinking about a smartphone game in that moment. Deceptive as it is, that’s actually not where the real deception lies. To understand the cynical brilliance of the advertising campaign, you must remember that every day of his life, every man searches for validation. Every man is haunted by the question of whether or not he is a man, whether or not he has what it takes. This is the driving force of the masculine soul, whether he’s eight or 80. The famished craving for validation fuels just about everything a man does. Everything you do. Why do men sell their souls to the corporate world, working late hours, starving their family for time and affection? Because they’re looking for validation in that arena. They have either found it, and now can’t dare let it go, or they haven’t and are desperate to secure validation through even harder work. It’s the very same reason some guys ritually head down to the gym while others stay away: there in the arena of physical fitness, some latch onto validation, while others fear they don’t have what it takes. Work and sports are the modern “battlefields” on which many a man is taunted. Viagra has seized on this famished craving with the similar cunning as did Game of War. Surely you’ve seen the ads: “This is the age of taking action.” A guy out camping can’t get his fire lit; a cowboy gets his truck stuck in the mud; some guy out in the middle of nowhere has the hood of his muscle car up—something needs fixing. Isn’t it fascinating that the Viagra commercials don’t focus on sex? They typically don’t even mention sex at all. Rather, they aim straight at the heart of men when they focus on the issue of strength, competency, and being the guy who comes through in the end. “This is the age of taking action,” or, “This is the age of knowing who you are,” or, “This is the age of knowing what you’re made of.” Do you see it? The guy whose lighter broke while trying to light his campfire goes to his toolkit, pulls out a pocket knife, strikes that knife against a rock and voila—he makes fire like his barbarian ancestors. The cowboy whose truck gets stuck in the mud pulls a team of horses from his trailer, and the next shot is him driving the team with reins in his left hand as he steers his truck out of the quagmire with his right. Manly men. Competent men. Guys who clearly have what it takes. The Viagra ads are required by law to go on and state the medical warnings—about 37 of them—including the fact that your heart could explode or your eyeballs fall out or your skin may burst into flames. But 20 million men don’t give a @#$% because the ad has grabbed that yearning to feel like a man, and boy did it get their attention. Fellas—none of this is about sex. Really. This is about validation; it’s about feeling like a man. And yes—having a beautiful woman tell you that she’s all yours if you’re man enough can sure make you feel like a man. For a few minutes. But you can never get a lasting validation there. It’s a dry well when it comes to that need. Oh, yes—the famished craving must be met. But Eve and all her daughters cannot settle that issue for you. This is where most guys get sideways in their relationships with women. Unaware of what compels them (far less aware than the creators of those ads), they make the fatal mistake of taking their need for validation to the Beauty. Either they feel intimidated by the girl—most men fear their wives—and they can’t step up and play the man because it feels like she holds the report card on their masculinity, or, they get obsessed with the girl—real, or imagined, or online—and keep going there for the momentary relief that seems to touch the ache but never heals it. Let’s seize clarity where we can. A video game you play on your cellphone has absolutely no capacity to validate your masculine soul. If the Game of War advertisers pulled the buxom bombshell and simply showed a guy sitting in his cubicle playing a game on his phone, they’d never sell the product. But that is in fact what they’re selling. Nor would the Viagra ads work if they simply showed a guy standing there, glass of water in one hand, pill in the other, while the narrator says in his husky-manly growl, “This is the age of knowing what you’re made of.” You can swallow a pill? So what. They have to substitute making fire like Bear Grylls or handling a team of horses like John Wayne. It’s all bait-and-switch. Because this (what they are selling) can’t do that (bring validation). Neither can Eve. She is wonderful in so many ways, but only God can tell a man who he is. Only a Father can validate his son. The more we keep this front and center, the better it is going to go when it comes to loving a woman.
John Eldredge
We Must Be
Certain stories come into your life, and because of the way they come, or the timing of the moment, or because of what they speak to you when they do arrive, they become a part of your soul-library—books that both shape and reflect who you are as a man. One of those stories for me is Norman Maclean’s A River Runs Through It. “In our family,” the tale begins, “there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing.” It is part memoir, part celebration of fly fishing and wild places, part tragedy, set in rough-and-tumble Missoula Montana in the 1920s. Norman and his younger brother Paul have a Huck Finn-like childhood, coming of age at a time when lumberjacks still used two-handed whipsaws and Indians would sometimes walk the downtown streets, still made of dirt. The story centers on how Paul’s family tries to come to terms with his unruly life and untimely death as a young man when they find his body dumped in an alley. Sometime later, Norman and his father are talking about Paul. It seems their father is grasping for more to hold onto as he presses Norman for every fragment of information the police provided: “I’ve told you all I know. If you push me far enough all I really know is that he was a fine fisherman.” “You know more than that,” my father said. “He was beautiful.” “Yes,” I said, “he was beautiful.” photo by matt bennett It is not an expression often used for men, but it ought to be. The older philosophers and saints evaluated the universe using three categories: the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. To get the idea of what they meant by the last, let me refer to a story from the Gospels: While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of a man known as Simon the Leper, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table. When the disciples saw this, they were indignant. "Why this waste?" they asked. "This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor." Aware of this, Jesus said to them, "Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me.” (Matthew 26:6-10). Jesus describes the act as more than simply good, more than merely truthful. He says it transcended those categories into the beautiful. But though the Master named it as one of the best things ever done to him—thus exalting the beautiful forever—we find that Christians have lost the longing for the quality Christ saw here, the quality Paul’s father and brother saw in him. As truth all but vanishes from cultural value, some corners fight for what is true; others want to be more relevant and commit themselves to “doing good.” Both are important, but both can fall short of a better way. photo by matt bennett Francis Schaeffer—a pastor, missionary, writer, a man many thought to be the greatest “common philosopher” of the 20th Century—wept over the bitter taste of many theological debates and church factions turned sour. He saw the devastation done when Christians fight for the truth in an ugly way or cling to a moral good but in a repulsive manner. It isn’t enough to be right, he felt—there are many who might in fact be in the right, or on the right side of a position, but their lives are so unattractive that they do damage to the very truth they defend. Worse, the manner in which they were right—the pride, the arrogance, the severity, the judgment—made the very morality they fought for repulsive to the watching world. “We must not only be True,” he said. “We must be Beautiful.” There are simpler ways to catch fish than with a fly rod. A century ago fishmongers from Denver would dynamite the South Platte and bring home wagonloads of wild trout. But the beauty of a dry fly cast with grace to a rising trout is in a league by itself. Certainly not as efficient, but if you think efficiency is the point then you won’t understand this article. In fact, the disciples were upset by the alabaster jar broken for Jesus; they saw a better way to use it for social justice. Jesus said they missed the point entirely and even rebuked them for their righteous indignation. I know men whose lives are far from perfect. In no way could they be called efficient or “maximizers.” Yet there’s something in the way they love, in what they love. Something in the manner in which they tell a story. Their devotion to an art or a place or a person. The grace they extend to others. The joy they get in a good joke, a dog, a good book, a day on the river. Oh, they love the True, and the Good, but they love the Beautiful even more, and in doing so, their lives have become beautiful. As we thought about this column for March—the column where we celebrate Beauty in many ways—we felt it was time to let the category speak to our own lives. As a reminder that we must not only be true, we must be beautiful.
John Eldredge
Best Days Ahead
I have a good friend, Jim Horsley, who once said, "When your memories exceed your dreams, you are headed for the grave." In other words, your best days are ahead. Living with this mindset is really the only way to truly live. Jim, whom I greatly admire both as a pilot and as a man, flew two hundred combat missions off the carrier Midway during the Vietnam War. He then flew with the US Navy's Blue Angels from 1980 to 1981. Jim's aviation resume of accomplishments in combat and precision flying is one few can rival. A pilot myself, I have always attempted to pry out one of his many riveting combat or Blue Angel flying stories, in hopes of relishing the details of his vast experiences of high adventure. But when asked if he'd share a story or two, Jim would often quote, "When your memories exceed your dreams, you are headed for the grave," and then talk about something else. He would rarely share from his stories of high-speed adventure. In Jim's story, the pursuit of his faith in God followed one of the final air shows he performed with the Blue Angels in front of 750,000 people in Washington state’s Puget Sound. It was one of his best performances, with near perfect weather conditions and a record crowd that enthusiastically worshipped the prowess of the Blue Angels. In a moment of feeling the highest adoration and success for his skills and talents, Jim found himself standing alone in front of a mirror, asking himself, "Is this all there is to life?" Something greater was calling to the emptiness he felt inside. Seeing that all the accomplishment of his flying could not fill the emptiness inside him, Jim left his flying career and soon discovered what it meant to have faith in Christ and find his validation in God. He eventually became the development director for World Vision and went back to Hanoi, bringing humanitarian aid and the gospel to the people who were once our enemies and whom he’d bombed in Hanoi during the Vietnam war. To my point—Jim is looking ahead to where God is taking him, with the knowledge that regardless of what has happened in the past, God is bringing him, His beloved, into better things and into a larger story (Rom 8:28). If we live in the memories of the past, we limit where God can take us in the days ahead. I’ve known this to be true when I find myself discouraged about how the current things in my life look. I then begin thinking about things in the past, how much better they were and how I long for those times. It is such a stealthy ploy of the enemy to cause us to burn up the days of our lives longing for the past, when God is always moving us toward a larger story where we have an invitation and authority to bring His Kingdom. The past is good, as it defines so much in our lives and is a place to go for the context of our healing and restoration, but God doesn’t want us to live there. The story of the gospel is God bringing restoration and His Kingdom to us, and we are invited to live in that rhythm with Him. So I choose to agree with my good friend Jim. Indeed! My best days are ahead.
Bart Hansen
Beautiful
In honor of my mother. She left this earth fourteen years ago but she never left my heart. Residing in Heaven, her fragrance and her undeniable beauty…remain. I love you, Mom. Thank you for loving me. At six years old, my youngest son was free as only a youngest son can be. Luke was exuberant, joyous, and expectant only of good. Each day, when kindergarten was over, the door would open and out would fly the children. Standing on the sidewalk, I watched as Luke exploded out the room and his eyes scanned the adults. When he saw me, his face would light up and his legs would fly. He would run down the sidewalk past all the other children and leap into my arms. It was the best part of my day and some of the most cherished memories of my life. In those moments with Luke, I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world and it had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with my appearance. Not that anything was wrong with my appearance, mind you. That was during the decade plus or minus a year or two where most days (okay, every day) I would be wearing my really cool overall-looking jeans jumper. All I needed to do was wear a different shirt and “Voila! A new outfit!” I was not then, nor am I now, very fashion conscious. I go for comfort and ease. And washable. When my children were young I had to wear clothes that could take a stain or two. Even my glasses were heavy-duty little boy shatterproof. But my sons thought I was beautiful. They did then and they do now. Because they look at me through the eyes of the heart. And yes, yes, our appearance does matter. Did then. Does now. Taking the time to care for ourselves communicates to the universe that we are worth caring for. Brushing my hair (or my teeth if I hadn’t yet) before my husband got home from work in those years surrounded by young super-heroes communicated to him that I thought he was worth caring for. It’s normal and good that a woman, whatever her season in life, wants to feel lovely. And yet. And yet. Our outward appearance merely reflects an inward reality, and the inward reality trumps the outward one every single time. I have said the following hundreds of times and seen it demonstrated thousands, “A woman is at her most beautiful when she knows she’s loved.” It’s simply true. She will wilt like a flower without water when she believes she’s not loved. Not wanted. Not delighted in. Let the truth that she is deeply and profoundly loved RIGHT NOW marinate deeply into her heart and a woman will begin to bloom like a tulip after the frost. We are made to be loved. We are made to love. It is the greatest commandment to Love God and to Love others. Of course we are meant to be loved ourselves! In this life there are many gifts. In Christ there are even more. But as we learn in 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13, no gift is worth its wrapping paper if it is not rooted and grounded in love. It is love that matters most and it is by and through love that we become beautiful. Love conquers all. Love is stronger than death. God has proven his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us. God is Love! Love sees better than any eye or camera or mirror and God sees us with love every moment of our lives. And therein lies our hope. Because God loves us we can love others as well. We can choose to love when people see it and when they don’t. Others may never see our choices, but rest assured, dear one, God does. He sees every sacrificial choice. He sees every moment that our heart glances his way in battered hope. And with every breath with which we love, we are being inwardly transformed into a woman of such beauty that it takes our God’s breath away. He is exploding out of eternity and scanning not just the sidewalk, but the whole of the world, looking for hearts that are completely his; for hearts that will leap into his arms with exuberance and joy, expectant only of good. ~A version of this blog was originally posted on ALLMOMDOES.COM
Stasi Eldredge
Taking Refuge
I didn't know if I could outrun the hornets, but with every fiber of my being I sure hoped I could. It was about a sixty-yard dash to the pickup across open pasture. But the terror of the swarm filled my adolescent heart with determination to make that truck before they came upon me. I had been out cutting thistles for my grandfather. The technique involved driving the blade of the shovel down into the ground along the edge of the root ball with a good hard stomp of the boot, then popping it up and out, leaving the fallen stalk to die in the sun. I was moving along through acres of pasture felling thistles on a hot August day. You didn't need a driver’s license to take the pickup out in the fields, and I knew I'd left the door swung open when I stopped to walk the latest patch of ground. That open door became my one and only hope. I had driven my shovel blade swift and severe down alongside a thistle when I heard a whining sound beneath me. The sound was like the one made by those small, gas-powered airplanes you see hobbyists sometimes flying at the park, or along the bluffs at the beach—a high and frenetic buzz, and when it’s attached to something living, it’s terrifying. Soon as that sound hit a fever pitch beneath me, I knew I'd shoved my blade straight into a hornets’ nest. They were mad as hell and about to find a way out of the wreckage I'd just made of their home. I left the shovel in the ground, hoping to buy myself a few seconds, and took off at a full run for the truck. About halfway across the field I could hear the swarm gaining on me, the drone of their wings like Japanese Zeros diving Pearl Harbor. The vanguard had just caught me when I threw myself into the cab and slammed the door shut. Three or four of the swiftest yellow jackets had swung in with me and stung me multiple times on my bare chest before I could swat them all down (unlike bees, hornets can sting over and over because they don’t leave their stinger in their victim). The pain was terrible, but I didn't care—the mass of the swarm pelted the outside of the window like a hailstorm, and I was safe inside. That was all that mattered. Refuge. There’s nothing like refuge when you need it. And we need it. I think you know by now that this world is filling with darkness. Evil swarms all around us. Sometimes we must resist that evil, or it will overcome us. Other times we do better to take refuge. It’s a manly thing to do. The best warriors know that there’s a time to fight and a time to run for cover. One of the surprising elements that stands out among the remarkable exploits of King David's life, is how often he is described as taking refuge. The man was a fierce warrior, legendary, feared and hunted by his enemies. And not just because of the Goliath episode, though that hurled him into stardom as a teenager. It served as the beginning of a career filled with victories in battle, building the legend: "Saul has slain his thousands, and David his tens of thousands" (1 Samuel 18:7). And yet, despite his indisputable bravery, his skill in combat, and the many stories that built his reputation, the man knows something we would do well to pay attention to: he knows there is a time to take refuge and he isn't a fool to ignore that fact. David left Gath and escaped to the cave of Adullum... David was in the stronghold... David left and went to the forest of Hereth (1 Samuel 22:1-5) David stayed in the wilderness strongholds and in the hills of the Desert of Ziph… And David went up from there and lived in the strongholds of En Gedi. (1 Samuel 23:14,29) We pass through a variety of stages as men. Choosing to become a warrior is one of the most defining forks in the road. When a man chooses this, he accesses a whole new way of living, and a much higher chance that he will prevail in every other area of his life. He chooses to fight for what he holds dear. There’s a reason "American Sniper" became a box office phenomenon, not only in the U.S. but also around the world. The warrior is so deeply hardwired into the masculine soul, even the most numb man stills feels its call. But the warrior cannot, must not always live at war. Your enemy will first try to prevent you from embracing the warrior within. If he fails at that, he will then try to bait you into battles that you should not take on or bury you in battle after battle. There is a time to take refuge. It begins with a choice, a turning; we choose to find our refuge in God. We pray to give ourselves into him as our refuge. "I give myself to you, Father. I consecrate my life into you again, body, soul and spirit. I take refuge in you. I take refuge in your love." As we pray that, we do more than simply say words; we bring reality into being. God is ever-present to be our refuge, but he never forces it upon anyone. As soon as our heart turns his direction as refuge, he is there to become so to us. Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life. Rescue me from my enemies, Lord, for I hide myself in you. (Psalm 143:8-9) David wrote that, by the way—the man who could often be found hiding in the desert, the forest, on the mountain, in the wastelands. He was no coward. And he was no fool. Nor was Jesus, who practically begged us to hide ourselves in him. Six times in the opening lines of John chapter fifteen he urges us to “remain in me,” and then caps it off a seventh time with “Remain in my love’ (vs 9). It’s a choice, a posture of heart, a prayer, and a practice that we would do well to add to our repertoire as warriors in a fierce battle. I’m willing to take my stand, but sometimes I just need to run for the truck and slam the door.
John Eldredge
The Thief of Joy
On sunny days, when my three sons were young, we would walk to the park near our home to swing and climb and play. A one car family, our outings were a respite of joy! We were blessed to have a car that ran but, well, it wasn’t a very nice looking car. It was an older, dinged up, four-door sedan and I confess, I really wanted a mini-van. (Yes, I did. Badly.) I remember one day at the park watching as a new, shiny green mini-van pulled up to the park and I wondered, ‘What would my life be like if I drove a car like THAT?” I figured that if I drove that car, everything would be much, much better! If I had that car, my house would be neat and tidy. My furniture would match. My laundry would be put away. I would be a woman who planned meals out two weeks in advance. If I drove a car like that then our bills would be organized, our checkbook balanced and our spice rack alphabetized. I would never feel sorrow well up in my heart in the dead of night. I’d have the Bible memorized! There would be world peace! No one would go hungry! Oh wait, I was getting carried away. This was a car mind you. Then the lovely, fit woman got out of the pretty mini-van with her healthy, happy children wearing clean and matching clothes and confirmed my every suspicion. Green mini-van = a good life. Further, being lovely and fit, having children who appeared happy and healthy and wore clean and matching clothes = a good life. Which as you well know, translated very quickly in my heart to – “My life is a bad one. It is without deep value or worth.” Theodore Roosevelt said “Comparison is the thief of joy” and boy was he right. We tend to compare our worst to another person’s best and we come out poorly. We compare another person’s smile with our inward sadness and we hide in shame. We compare our body to another woman’s more fit one and our joy shrinks. We compare what we imagine another person’s life to be like (without really knowing their story) with our known reality and we grieve. We compare ourselves with others and our hope melts and our sense of value dissipates like the mist. Ever compare yourself? Ever thought that if you had someone else’s life, their car, their husband, their job, their body, their hair, their gifting, their “you name it”…then all would be, if not well, then at least much, much better! We’ve all done it. We’ve all had our joy stolen. Comparison is a problem. I know we can’t help but look. And looking isn’t necessarily bad. By watching other mothers, I have learned how to be a better mother. By watching other friends and leaders and teachers, I have learned how to be a better friend and a more smitten lover of God! We want to lead lives that cause others to yearn after Jesus. People are watching. We want what they see to spur them on to love. Let our viewing of others do the same. Not to buoy our sense of self worth via another person’s failure or suffering. Not to shame ourselves into trying to “do better” via another person’s success. Not to compare but to learn. And always with an eye on love and a heart geared toward gratefulness for the gift of our incomparable life. God caught my heart that day at the park and he continues to catch it. My messy life is a gift. He loves me now – not if and not when but now. He loves you, too. You are loved. Right now. Your life does matter! When God looks at you, he sees the one for whom he gave everything and won everything so that you could be with him forever. You are chosen. You are the apple of his eye. You are the joy that was set before Jesus. Ask God to help you to know that. Ask for his view on your life. Ask him to help you to see yourself as he does. Because when you do, nothing can compare to that!
Stasi Eldredge