Articles & Posts
Life Will.
Sorrow is a heavy thing. Going through the necessary motions of the day, I have felt as though I'm slogging through knee deep mud. I have felt that way because I have been. What a week. A childhood friend dropping dead in Walmart. Two different friends' diagnosis of particularly vicious cancers. Desperate prayer requests coming in from others I love for various heartbreaking reasons. And then the gut-wrenching call from one close to me sobbing out the news of the unexpected loss of her son. Twenty-four years old and he didn't wake up. I fell on the floor. Grief will do that. Yet as crazy as it sounds, as I write that, I am smiling. Because I did not and will not stay down. Because though death will knock me down, I belong to the Resurrected One who knocked death down. Dealt it a death blow, as it were. Still, I grieve. And in my sorrow, my tears mingle with my God's. As the salty waters flow, the thick mud of grief is thinned. Lifegiving water overwhelms the weighty slough and though I am mired in muck, I will not remain mired forever. Inextinguishable. Undefeatable. Victorious. That's what we are in Christ. Jesus led the way. And though the Way includes sorrow, suffering, and grief, none of them get the final say. Life does. Life has. Life will.
Stasi Eldredge
A Ready Lap
I was twenty-two years old when my father told me that the cancer had returned with a vengeance. We had thought he was clear, done, finished. The CAT scans had told us the cancer had been defeated by the rigors of chemotherapy and radiation. I had shared the good report with my praying Bible study group to cheers. But it was back. And there would be no reprieve this time. At the unwelcome news, I was no longer twenty-two years old but six, and I crawled onto my father’s lap and told him I was scared. He confessed to me that he was scared, too. An unknown future. A fight for more years all but lost. What would this crossing over from this life to full LIFE entail? Many of you know. I will just say here that it was a painful, trying, grace-filled five months that followed my father’s confession. Yes, I will tell you that. I will also tell you that his last mumbled but well understood words to me were, “I love you.” Holy words that I treasure in my memory and in my heart. I face an uncertain future today. I am fifty-four years old and though I am not facing cancer ravaging one I love, I do not know what awaits me beyond the moments of this very one I am living in. I am fifty-four years old, but I still feel at times twenty-two, and yes, even six. Change is on the wind, and change always feels like loss. I want to climb up on my Daddy’s lap and confess my fears. So, in my spirit, in prayer, I do just that. Maybe you have a father who is still alive – in whom you are safe to confide your emotions. Maybe you don’t. But whether you have one whom you can see and feel and trust, or like me, you do not, we all have a good and trustworthy Father waiting. Understanding. Caring. His arms are open to us, even His lap is open to us, and though we do not know what is coming, He does. Though I am often uncertain or afraid, He never is. I’m climbing up there for a while today. And I’m not climbing down. Not until I’m good and ready. But when I am…I will still be held throughout every moment of this day and the unknown that is coming. I am held for the rest of my life. And so are you.
Stasi Eldredge
Abortion
I read in the paper today that according to a study done by the Guttmacher Institute, the number of abortions in the United States has fallen to its lowest level since 1973. 1973 was a big year. On January 22, 1973 in Roe v. Wade, the Supreme Court ruled that the right to privacy extended to a woman's decision to have an abortion. Remember? Wikipedia states that “Roe v. Wade prompted a national debate that continues today about issues including whether, and to what extent, abortion should be legal, who should decide the legality of abortion, what methods the Supreme Court should use in constitutional abjudication, and what the role should be of religious and moral views in the political sphere.” You bet the debate continues. While I volunteered at a crisis pregnancy center, I only encountered one woman who appeared cavalier about her potential decision. She came in with a male friend and when he asked her what she would do if she were pregnant, she reached down and ripped out a section from her fishnet tights. His reaction to her was shock. Her face was impassive. But I understood. She had steeled herself behind a hard heart. Or she was trying to. Her stony response covered a soul that she hoped was beyond hurting. After having an abortion myself, my companion was surprised by my stoicism. He said, “You’re so strong.” I said, “No. I’m hard.” It happens. In waiting rooms and recovery rooms all over the United States, women weep. Those who are not weeping are steeling themselves against feeling the sorrow of what to them was an agonizing yet ultimately unavoidable choice. One in six women in America have had an abortion and many of those women have had multiple ones. They are standing next to you in the grocery stores, sitting next to you in church, and staring back at you in the mirror. Women of faith have the same amount of abortions as women who profess no faith and they are haunted by shame and regret in immeasurable waves. Abortion brings destruction to every life it touches. Yes, to the unborn fetus never to know the light of day. Yes, to the woman who forsakes her unborn child and yes, to the men, to the friends, and to the children who surround her. It’s a devastating choice made in painful, pressure filled moments that wreaks havoc on our souls and on our nation and is not outside the reach of Jesus. Mercy, beloved one. God understands. He is for you. No sin is outside the reach of the blood of Jesus. No wound too deep for him to heal. No regret too defining for the love of God to remove. But let us not be silent here. Let us not look the other way or abandon women in the throws of heart wrenching decisions and loss. And let us not continue to lie. Abortion is a painful choice. A difficult choice. A gut wrenching choice. An agonizing choice. And the wrong choice. Death begets death. Life begets life. Let us come alongside those of us who are embarrassed or hurting or terrified or ashamed and feeling beyond alone to the point that they believe there is no other option available to them. Let us bring healing and life and restoration to the women beside us who still live under the weight of guilt and shame over their previous abortion(s) and have not been able to receive Christ’s forgiveness nor the grace to forgive themselves. Life and death are around us every single day. Let’s offer life. Let’s speak words of hope. Let’s do what we can to support those around us who are hurting and bring Jesus. And let’s pray that the number continues to fall.
Stasi Eldredge
Sometimes Love Is Silent
I remember the day well that a miracle happened. My weekly women’s Bible study had broken into our small group of eight and finished up going over the guide’s questions when a woman’s heart showed up. She didn’t have a question about the passage we were studying. Her question was about how to believe in the God of love when her pastor husband was anything but loving. That was the miracle. That she risked bringing her life, her story, her truth, and her pain to us. The study went immediately from the natural to the supernatural, from the rubber to the road. The next miracle that occurred was that she kept coming back to our little Bible study after we so badly mishandled her that day. None of us asked her a further question, but many of us were ready with a spiritual bandage of advice to cover her hemorrhaging heart. The young woman risked telling us a little more of her story and in our shock, we did not simply enter her grief and be silent. We did not gently probe with sensitive queries. We ran in fear to the nearest platitude and offered it as quickly as we could. “It will be all right.” We had no idea if it would be all right or not. In fact, it was never going to be all right. I was grieved by her pain but more grieved by our refusal to share it with her. Grace is amazing, and I experienced it again and again both as this woman continued to return and as the women around me began to move toward her in fierce gentleness, advocating for her heart, her marriage, her family, and her God. One thing we all did right that day in the face of a tragedy presented was move toward her physically. Every woman close to her scooted in like she was a magnet. Hands reached out. Arms surrounded. Faces softened. Perhaps it was that movement which enabled her to keep coming back and find a refuge and strength in this little straggling company. Our physical embrace represented what our minds and mouths were not yet capable of doing. She felt that. The miracles continued as we slowly grew as women. We grew to become women who were slower to speak, quicker to question, and less afraid to enter into the sorrow without any band-aids in hand. We discovered the balm of love, the presence of the Holy Spirit in hearts willing to risk silence, and the strength of hope born and carried in others. Oh, to continue to grow. Oh, to risk silence. Oh, to love.
Stasi Eldredge
But Don't You Long For It?
Stasi and I were having dinner last night with some dear friends, leaders of a ministry and seminary. At one point in the conversation the husband said something to the effect of, "I am praying daily for the return of Jesus." And it stopped me in my tracks - because I can't recall the last time I heard anyone say that. Can you? I stopped the conversation to ask him, "Is that common in your circles? Do you know a number of Christians who are praying for the return of Jesus?" He paused, and then said, "Actually, no. No one." His wife added, "No one talks about it. Our church has never preached on it that I can remember." That's my experience, too, and it feels very revealing to me. The return of Christ to the earth, and his ushering in the Kingdom of God feels like a pretty central part of our faith. Kind of crucial, really. But as I have attempted in various conversations with Christians to bring up the imminent return of Jesus, the mood turned awkward - like I wanted to talk about UFOs. Pushing into the subject, that I believe the return of Jesus is very near at hand, their mood turns foreboding, like I wanted to talk about their likelihood of getting cancer. I don't get it. Are we afraid of the second coming? Is this not something we are looking forward to?! Two ideas are absolutely basic to a Christian understanding of this world: First, that you are created for happiness and second, that you will not truly be happy until Jesus returns and brings into fullness the Kingdom of God. So what's with the awkwardness of Christians taking about his return, and, more fascinating (and troubling) what's with no none really praying for it? I want to venture an observation: If you are not personally longing for and praying for the return of Jesus, you are still committed to making life work here and now. Our prayers reveal what we are after. So if you are not praying for the return of Jesus, you are not banking on it or looking forward to it much. But...you are created for happiness, and you are not going to truly find it until the kingdom is yours. At the end of the book of Revelation, which is the end of the entire Bible narrative, the church is longing for and praying for the return of Jesus: "The Spirit and the bride say, 'Come!'" Note the exclamation point. As in, "Please come! Come now! We want you to come!" This isn't UFOs or a fear of dying. This is hopeful, eager expectation of every dream you ever had coming true. This is the expectation of life coming to you in all its fullness. Not to mention your Jesus coming to you. And never ever losing it again. Of course my friend is praying for it daily! Let's join him!
John Eldredge
Boldly
I’m not going to throw away my scale today but I am going to ask my husband to hide it. A number has ruled my life since a fateful day in the 1st grade. The school nurse had lined up all the students to record our weights. There was no privacy screen, no separate room. One by one each child stepped up onto the scale. The nurse adjusted the weights and then told the number to her assistant who was recording the judgment. Err number. And not in a hushed voice either. My number? 66. It is the first time I remember feeling humiliation over my body. Shame rose to color my face as I felt the number measure my value. I remember other days, other numbers. 187. 165. 154. All with horror. More numbers. 142. 135. 128. Soaring on the wings of starved affirmation. More numbers. 195. 172. 212. 186. 235. 242. 265. 202. 184. 177. Ridiculous. I don’t need the scale to tell me anything today. I know that the number it would reveal might make me cry. It’s a strange thing to feel your body grow. Again. I thought I was done! I’m not. God’s invitation to me today is to boldly hand over the scale and to set my eyes only on him as the source of my value. To embrace that what I really want is to rest in his love, to care for myself as he longs for me to and to surrender the power of the number to the power of his grace. I want to be strong. I want to pursue Jesus. I want my clothes to fit. I want to be free of shame more than I am today. I want to offer mercy. I want to fill myself up on the love of God and feast on the joy I find in his fierce, strong, eternal faithfulness. Come here, Jesus. Redeem me here. Come for the little first grader, the desperate middle school teenager, the ashamed high schooler and the woman searching for love, connection and goodness in the pantry. I need you. Losing the scale may not be a great decision for me. I’ll find out. But it may be the best thing I’ve done in quite a while. I’m inviting him to come for me. Want to join me in inviting him to come where you need him most to come for you?
Stasi Eldredge
Hope
I was sitting at my desk this morning catching up on email, and noticed the December Wild at Heart letter lying nearby. I picked it up, and read it...and knew I had to share it with you (even if you read the hard copy)... Dearest Friends, The year is quickly drawing to a close. As I sit in my office on this cold and snowy morning, I am praying over this letter… What do you have for us, Jesus? What do you want for your people this month? I am reluctant to write you on a Christmas theme. Not because I don’t like Christmas; I love it. I love all of Christmastide. My reluctance comes because by now you are inundated with everyone’s holiday thoughts, wishes, commercials, muzac, schemes, sales, catalogs, blogs, sermons, tweets. It tends to blur into a drone of holiday noise, overloading us at the very time of year we sing, “Silent Night.” Typically there’s not much silence to it. But then Jesus replied, “I want to restore hope.” He wants to restore our hope – and that would be a very, very good thing. You might not even know that you need your hope restored – till it happens! Whatever else Christmas might be, it is a demonstration beyond all doubt that God keeps his word – he intervenes. He promised he would come…and he came. On a cold night in Bethlehem, in a far corner of the Roman Empire, when his people had pretty much figured the Kingdom would never come, he came. We have to push back all the other holiday messages for a moment and simply let the reality of the Incarnation hit us fresh again: He said he would come, and he did. A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. (“O Holy Night”) A thrill of hope. I think it’s been quite sometime since my heart felt a thrill of hope. I’ve certainly had a nudge or two of hope, maybe even a stirring of hope. But wouldn’t it be wonderful to feel a thrill of hope, perhaps to feel it in some new way for the first time? Let’s see if we can find that, open our hearts to it’s coming, just as Mary opened herself to the coming of Jesus… Christmas is more than God simply “coming.” It is a dramatic intervention the likes of which the world had never seen before. O yes – God had intervened for his people in many ways down through the centuries, sometimes in stupendous ways. The creation itself was quite an intervention – dazzling beauty and life out of what had been “formless and void.” But all of those were…able to be lost. Fragile. Here, in Christmas, in the Incarnation, God intervenes permanently. This is no manna for today, no one-time parting of the sea. It is not merely an answer to a prayer, a miraculous provision for a moment’s need. He comes to ransom, he comes to restore, he comes to save – forever. It is a permanent provision, an “ongoing and unstoppable miracle” if you will, because the effects of it are present and everlasting. You are everlastingly his now; you are everlastingly secure; you are everlastingly taken care of. It was an intervention that opened the door to a multitude of interventions. For he keeps on coming. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you (John 14:18). Jesus comes to us now, and his coming is our greatest need. O Jesus come to me; I need you now, I need you here – in this. Above and beyond whatever else I need, I need you, God. Come to me again. It is now. And it is also imminent. He is coming, soon, once-and-for-all. Yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. If you haven’t spent time in the woods through the last hours of the night, you might be surprised to know that it tends to get very cold right before the dawn. It can be a bit disheartening for the uninitiated, if you do not know that the bitter chill is merely a sign that thing are finally turning, and the night is about to fade away. Dawn is coming, warmth and light and beauty are coming even though it just got colder than it had been all night. The world is like that; human history is like that. Jesus himself told us it would be so – that things would get coldest right before the dawn. These dark days tempt us in exactly the wrong direction; our hearts begin to succumb to the feeling that Jesus is still a long ways off. Not at all. Quite the opposite – this is the very sign that our glorious morn is rapidly approaching from the east. Life is finally about to be ours. Everything you have ever dreamed of is about to be yours. That will bring a thrill of hope, if you’ll let it. O Jesus – forgive my failing heart. I have lost this almost entirely. I pray you would restore to me the sure and immovable hope in your imminent return. Restore to me the most genuine hope of all – that my life is about to come true, that everything I ever longed for is about to be mine, forever. Grant to me this Christmastide a thrill of hope. We love being your friends and allies here at Christmas, here at the end of the age. We love this great and noble fight as we stoke the fires and wait for the dawn. Thank you for being our friends. Love John (for us all)
John Eldredge
One Christmas Thought: It Worked!
A Merry Christmas to all our dear friends and allies! As I reflect upon the mystery of the incarnation, and the great invasion of the Kingdom that began under cover of darkness in a remote village in the Middle East, so many wonders flood my heart. The wild plan of God to come the way he did, where he did, when he did, as he did. The great battle in the heavens. The immense cost. The staggering series of events that began to unfold. It really is breathtaking, more than any other story ever told. But above all, what I wanted to offer you this Christmas is this one simple thought: It worked. God came for us, and all that he planned and all he intended in Jesus Christ has come true. The rule of Evil has been broken. We are ransomed. Our lives are now filled with the life of God. The Kingdom of God has broken through. Redemption is unfolding all over the earth, and will come to a glorious climax with the return of Jesus. Sin no longer reigns over us. Restoration is ours now. And so many other glories. It worked. That is what I am holding onto this Christmas. It worked!
John Eldredge
Thinking Ahead! The Becoming Myself DVD!
Christmas is just days away and here I am blogging about something for January! Craaazy, I know! And though I would like some particular times to go more slowly (i.e. vacations, holidays, celebrations...) time continues to speed by. So, I am compelled to put a bug in your ear. Ok. Not a bug. But an awareness. An idea. A suggestion! January 1st the Becoming Myself DVD series for small groups becomes available and though I am quite personally invested and 100% biased - it's really good! We filmed it this past April for women to use in their homes, in their small groups, in their churches, in their you name its - to go deeper with other women into the incredibly valuable topics covered in the book, Becoming Myself: Embracing God's Dream of You. The study guide (which has been available since 8/1!) and the video series is broken up into 8 sessions. So - an 8 week commitment - though you can go longer if you like. You can get information on it at becomingmyself.com and it's available to order through the Wild at Heart website - for a great discount (50% off!) through January 31st. You are going to want this. Really. To share with others or just to go deeper yourself. Consider this suggestion not merely an advertisement but an early Christmas present - from me to you! (Oh - here's a tangible present - get the first two sessions for free when you visit the Becoming Myself page!)
Stasi Eldredge
The Christmas I Want
Smack dab in the middle of the Christmas season I can feel such a compulsion to strive. Often my heart is not at rest waiting for Jesus to come to me yet again, but straining; desperately reaching for entrance into the place where memory meets longing meets wonder meets fulfillment. A way to touch transcendence and meaning and connection. If I bake enough cookies and the house is filled with lovely ribbons of sugar – will that do it? If there are decorations and lights and boughs of evergreen – will our world, our home, our family be secure in the love and light of God? Can I carol and wrap my way into the time of my childhood when I carried no responsibility for beauty or Santa or Jesus? Can I create an experience where I connect my past with my families present and the world will be lovely and safe and rest on a foundation of unshakeable love? We dress up our homes and neighborhoods in lights and bows and nostalgia, reaching for hope and a better world. How do I get there with my family? If we go to midnight mass? If we dress up for Christmas dinner? If I put an elf on a shelf? If we continue with our family traditions of waffles, berries and whipped cream for breakfast and an ornament in the stocking, will we know we are connected to our past and will therefore be connected in our future? That there is a future that is good. That there is coming a time when hope and longing and promise will be fulfilled and it’s lovelier than twinkly Christmas lights. Our hearts will be embraced and known, and we will know that all is better than well. Where all is gained and nothing good is lost and Jesus is at once the Babe in the manger and the Warrior on his steed. The lion and the lamb will lie down together. And the fragrance of sugar cookies baking will carry only the scent of satisfaction and naught of hunger. Where my mother is alive and my father is laughing, my husband’s eyes are dancing and my sons along with all God’s children know they are seen and loved. That’s the Christmas I want. The best moments of the past and the memory of what should have been married to the beauty and depth of what could be – become one. With perfect packages under the tree. And with every one being opened bringing deeper delight. Endlessly. Endlessly. Endlessly. So rest, my heart. Jesus came and the Christmas I want is coming.
Stasi Eldredge
Yearning for Great Leadership
I'm not sure if it is the pace of my life, or something to do with forgetfulness, perhaps even modesty, but I hardly ever listen to our own materials once we've recorded them. Especially our podcasts. My loss. Because yesterday, after receiving a number of heartfelt and profound responses to our recent series, I decied to tune in myself, as a listener. I was blown away. Really - God has this unique ability to invade somewhere between words spoken, files edited and the listening experience. He comes, he indwells, he inhabits, taking something that seems so obvious and making it resonate with the Kingdom. We are in the midst of a series on Leadership - which in itself is a God thing. I mean...yawn. Boring. At least to me. I would never have suggested to the gang here, "Hey - let's do a series on leadership!" But during a time of listening prayer, back in September, we asked Jesus what he wanted to bring to his people through our podcasts and he said, "talk about leadership." So we did...for ten podcasts. We've talked about good experiences and bad, talked about our longing for leaders in the church, explored why they seem so rare and what we typically substitute for godly leadership. Most of all, we've talked about God's longing to unite his scattered people under spiritual fathers and mothers, what they look like and how to find them. It has been a very rich experience and the feedback is off the charts. Guess Jesus struck a nerve. If you haven't listened to the Wild at Heart podcast in a while (or ever), I think you'll find yourself intrigued, drawn in and spoken to in very rich ways. Come and join us. You can find our podcasts on our new app, or click on the "More" tab at the top of this page, and choose "podcast." It'll do your heart good.
John Eldredge
I Found It!
My husband John is a health food nut, er…advocate, er…aficionado…umm, person from way back. Thirty-five years ago, before it was even remotely cool, he was a nutritionist at a tiny little health food store called The Carob Tree. He doesn’t merely believe that eating healthily is the best thing to do, he actually likes it. You would think that after having been married for over thirty years to this man more of his healthiness would have rubbed off on me, but, well…it hasn’t. Darn. See, I care what things taste like. I won’t drink the lawn clippings all ground up in the blender with organic acaia no matter how good it is for you. But John…well, he is another story. Taste comes second. He likes things that are good for him. Go figure. His body can tell if it’s benefitting him or not at the first swallow. Point of fact: the very first time I made pesto (with walnuts not pine nuts because though fabulous, do you know how much pine nuts cost? They’re like the price of gold.), John took one bite and spit it out shouting to our sons, “Don’t eat it! It’ll make you sick!” Walnuts apparently go rancid if you leave them in the cupboard for years. Who knew? Anyway, he’s healthy. Yesterday I did some shopping and he had requested certain items. As in “blueberry hemp snacks”. Really. These not only exist but my husband wants them. So, I’m at Whole Foods, in the right section, searching searching searching. I’m searching for like ten minutes because I’ve been dropping the ball here lately (but that’s another story) and I am committed to bringing home the right “snack” and I couldn’t find them. I couldn’t find them because it’s chaos in there. Those shelves are full of unimaginable untasty healthy things. I took a photo. And then, God be praised, I found them! In my excitement, I yelled with joy, “I found it!” A woman was standing half way down the aisle smiled at me and said “Congratulations!” Hah! I found it. Yes, yes, I did. Remember the bumper sticker? This is my segway by the way in case you’re not following the flow. Remember the “I Found It” bumper stickers from years gone by? They were quickly followed by the “I Never Lost It” bumper stickers and a number of other jokes but hey, when you find what you are looking for, what you knew you wanted all along but was hidden to you, what will make you happy, save your soul, save your LIFE…announcing your Good News to the world makes utter sense. I Found It. I found the snacks yesterday but thirty five years ago I found Jesus. Rather, he found me! HOORAY!!!!! You may congratulate me if you like. Better still, if he’s found you too, let’s find a way this week to share this amazing wonder with someone who is still searching searching searching.
Stasi Eldredge
Pass Through the Glass
Often I feel like I am standing outside of my own life looking through a plate glass window that I cannot pass. On the other side are those I love. I have watched my husband and sons play with a freedom and ease of soul that was foreign to me. Their “otherness”, no, my “otherness” weighed my legs down with chains making it frequently impossible for me to enter in to their joy. I have been on the other side of the plate glass window noticing women share glances and inside jokes of connection and friendship and wondered at the intimacy. Friends respond to invitations on Facebook to parties I was not party to. People speak of movies and books they love and recommend and I have tried to watch or read many of them but too often - after the first few minutes – shake my head and in dismay walk away. How do they like that? I do not share many, oh so many of my friend’s experiences. My immediate family is a close one. My husband and I, together with our sons can talk honestly about matters of the heart. Difficult subjects need to be handled with care but we are committed to the dialogue because we are committed to each other. And yet… So frequently, though loved and loving, I feel like an island and they like a mystery. I don’t fit. I’m outside. Something must be bent and broken within me. With my male family, (even our pets are boys), I thought perhaps it was my femaleness; my estrogen an unknown entity to their overflowing testosterone. It was easier to think that. When they were younger, I thought perhaps it was my brokenness, my shame, or my being out of shape that prevented me from belonging to them in a way that I perceived them belonging to each other. I recently shared my experience with my husband and sons of so frequently feeling like an outsider to my world, to them, even to myself. They nodded their heads with eyes filled with compassion in shared self recognition. In “The Tale of Two Cities”, Dickens writes about the cacophony of London and the people that teem within it. “A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.” Oh. It isn’t just me. It isn’t just you either. Feeling “other”, feeling “apart”, feeling that we don’t “quite fit”, is the human condition. Loneliness isn’t lonely. After gently unearthing the protective surface surrounding a person’s heart, I have yet to meet a one who does not confess to loneliness. We are a mystery. We are not meant to be a stranger unto our very selves but feeling like a stranger in our world, even to those closest to us, is not an isolated feeling. Alice passed through the looking glass, and I am now attempting more than ever before to pass through the glass that makes me feel apart. When I do, I find it to be an illusion. It exists, yes. But it is not a solid. It is not impenetrable. The firmness yields at my first movement to press through and on the other side are those that need my love. Because they have too often been feeling like they are living their life looking through a plate glass window that they cannot pass.
Stasi Eldredge
Even in the Small Things
Last Sunday night my friend Darrell Evans (worship leader; we use his music a lot at our retreats) was playing in town and Stasi and I had been looking forward to it. Even bought tickets in advance. But then the weekend took its usual toll, and we were both tired and in that Sunday evening place of "time to veg." We made the mistake of settling into a good movie when Stasi suddenly asked, "What time is it?" It was 7:51. Darrell was starting at 8:00. Across town. I was about to run up the white flag when Stasi said, "We should go. I want to go." I wanted to protest. Make excuses. So I quickly did what I often do—what I have learned to do from many mistakes—I paused, and internally I asked Jesus what he wanted us to do. He said, "Go." So we went. And it was awesome. Just what we needed—a really intimate evening of great worship. And a chance to reconnect afterwards with Darrell. Honestly, it felt like one of a thousand little rescues this year simply from asking Jesus what he has for us. Even in the small things. Even when I don't really want to. "You show me the path to life" (Psalm 16:11). Every time. By the way, Darrell is on tour to like thirty cities, and if you can you should go, too. You can find his tour schedule on his website at http://darrellevans.com/
John Eldredge
Your Story
Jesus is a master Storyteller. Speaking the language of the heart, Jesus taught through parables so we would better understand him. The Bible is ripe with one story after another. Remember the story of the woman in Mark 5 with the issue of blood? It’s one of my favorites. It's about the woman who pressed into Jesus, reaching out to touch him in her desire to be healed. Touching him in faith, she was healed! Feeling power go out from him, Jesus stopped and asked, “Who touched me?” Then falling at his feet, this brave woman told him her story. Scripture says she told Jesus "her whole story: the whole truth.” Is it possible that even more healing came to her through telling him her story? Is the very act of telling one’s story—at the right time and to the right person—immensely healing? I think so. About twenty years ago I learned there is goodness to be had in telling our story in a safe place. I was in a small group where, in love, we had chosen to share our stories with one another. My evening came. In terror, I prayed and then quietly and awkwardly began to tell my story. Childhood games, joys and sorrows—markers in my life—good memories and defining wounds. I only had about two hours so, you know, it was the “Reader’s Digest" version. The room was quite silent. I’d reached telling about my early twenties when a friend's heart couldn’t take any more, and she exploded into sobs. She burst into tears in a response to my story. Hers were tears on my behalf. Her reaction surprised me. See, I wasn’t crying over my story. It was all I knew. It was my normal. You have your normal. Our lives are normal…to us. That night, the other members' shock, their tender faces, their compassion, even their horror, were great gifts of mercy to me. An invitation to further healing came to me. An invitation to not live in the lies I'd come to believe because of my history—nor to dismiss my story as a fluke, an embarrassment, or as merely something to be overcome. Healing power flowed to me through the telling of my story at the right time and to the right folks. I shared a lot of sorrow that night. My life story, like yours, has a lot of pain and loss in it. But that is not all there is in it. There is beauty in it, too. One of the beauties of the Gospel is that it is a Gospel of restoration. God is restoring all things—the world, creation, our hearts, our lives—even our memories! Yes, my life story can be harsh. But the truth is that God has always been in the midst of it. Saving me. Shielding me. Wooing me to his heart. Do you remember much about your childhood? What you were like? What did you like? What games did you enjoy? Were you enjoyed? Why not carve out some time and ask God to help you remember? What was your childhood like? What do you remember even now? What did you love, dream of, play, feel, believe? Then invite Jesus into your memory and into your perception of your youth. And ask him—where were you, God? Some of you may know the answer immediately. For those of you that don’t know, keep asking. He will tell you. Your life is a story. It’s one worth telling. And further healing is always worth asking for. If you don't have someone safe to entrust your story to, ask God to bring them. And by the way, a perfectly safe person to tell your story to is Jesus. Like Aslan asked Shasta to do in The Horse and His Boy, God would love you to tell him your story. Yes, he knows it quite well. But no one tells it quite like you. Dear God, You know my story. You know my desires and my embarrassment—you know my sorrow and the places where I have begun to give up hope. Would you please come for me, Jesus? Would you please breathe life and hope into the places of my heart that need to be revived? I pray for your eyes on my life. I pray for the grace to believe more deeply that you love me completely right now, even before I have gained the healing, the victory, and freedom I long for. I pray for more healing and a deeper work of restoration for me and in me. Thank you for that, Jesus. I know that is what you would love to do. In Jesus’s Name, Amen.
Stasi Eldredge
What are you thinking?
The other night I was lying on the floor with worship music playing. But I wasn’t lying on the floor worshipping. I was wondering. The day had not been a great one. I was exhausted from travel and too many conversations and I thought the answer to my physical and emotional state would be found in pizza and chocolate ice cream. I chose to spend the entire day in old patterns of living that have never proven helpful but harmful. Lying on the floor, listening to the music, I began to ask God, “Do you really love me now? Here? How can you possibly love me in this low place?” But I knew he did. Jesus died on the cross for all of my sins even the ones I have committed over and over and over again. There was a battle going on for my freedom all that day as well as those critical moments on the floor; a spiritual battle. And it was raging where it almost always rages – over what I would choose to believe. In Waking the Dead, my husband John wrote, “You won't understand your life, you won't see clearly what has happened to you or how to live forward from here, unless you see it as battle. A war against your heart.” Jesus has won our freedom in a heavenly, spiritual showdown with Satan. But our enemy, the devil, still refuses to go down without a fight. He knows he cannot take down Jesus, the Victorious One. But he can still wound his heart by wounding ours. Jesus has won our freedom. But we need to receive it, claim it and stand in it. That is our good fight of faith. Believing God is who he says he is and believing we are who he says we are in the face of damning evidence surrounding us that screams the opposite. In order for us to live in freedom and become the woman we are to become, we need to receive God’s love even in our lowest places. You know that spiritual warfare is designed to separate us from the love of God. Its goal is to keep us from living in the freedom that Jesus has purchased for us. And just like worship, the focus of spiritual warfare is the Truth. Satan whispers to us when we have failed or sinned or are feeling horrid that we are nothing and no one. He is a liar. And our fight for our freedom involves exposing him for who he is even when the lies feel completely true. The battle is waged and won in our thought life. What do you think about God? What do you think about yourself? Who are you? What do you think life is about? What do you think is true? Because what we think about ourselves, God, others or a circumstance informs how we perceive it which informs the way we experience it. Our thoughts play out in our lives. What we think is true, plays out in our day to day, moment by moment existence. What are you thinking? And if you are in this moment, like I was that evening, basing your thoughts on your feelings and experiences rather than the Word of God…then, darlin’, stop it. Let’s fight our good fight of faith and bring our thoughts into alignment with what God says is true! “Surely you desire truth in my inmost being.” Ps 51:6 “For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, 14 in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” Col 1:13,14 “And having disarmed the powers and authorities, (Spiritual powers and spiritual authorities) he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.” Col 2:15 – 17 Romans 5:10 “For if when I was your enemy I was reconciled to You through the death of your son, how much more, having been reconciled shall I be saved through his life.” “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus,” Eph 2: 4-6 Mtt: 28:18, “All authority in Heaven and Earth has been given to Me.” - Jesus Luke 10:19,20 “I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you. However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” And Romans 8:37-39 ”But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” We are loved. We are held. We are seen. We are chosen. We are forgiven. We are HIS! Oh, let’s think on that!
Stasi Eldredge