Amanda and I had followed God’s call to plant a church in Indianapolis, Resonate Church, exactly four years before – yet national news outlets were now broadcasting our family‘s tragedy. As shock morphed into overwhelming grief, I stepped with my toddler son Weston into an uncertain future without Amanda.

Over the past nine years, God’s mercies have been new every morning. And one of the greatest mercies goes by the name of Kristi.

It was late 2016, almost a full year since Amanda had passed away, and I had just started writing a book – a memoir. I had asked God to help me see his hand of redemption in my story, and the process of putting emotions and memories to paper was bringing me a lot of healing. I even found myself wondering if I was healthy enough for God to bring love my way again. The odds were not in my favor – my current life would require a truly unique woman, one who loved God, loved my son Weston, loved me, loved our church, and even loved Amanda. I left the idea in God’s hands.

That evening, after a twelve-hour day of writing, I headed to the gym to decompress. The owner of the gym had kindly given me a key so I could break a little sweat at odd hours when I wasn’t writing. That night I arrived just as the last class of the evening was finishing up. As providence would have it, Kristi was in that class.

I had noticed Kristi at the gym and around church over the last few months, but we hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words. She had caught my attention from day one, but she seemed to be avoiding me like the plague. I decided this was the moment, so I worked up the courage to engage in conversation.

“Hey!” I said, trying (to no avail) to play it cool. “You’ve been coming to Resonate church for like four months now, and I know almost nothing about you.” And, to keep it pastoral, I added, “What’s your story? How did you come to know the Lord?”

For the next thirty minutes, we stood there as she regaled me on her upbringing and past. Out of all that she shared,

I homed in on the four years she spent studying abroad and on the mission fields in Mexico, Cambodia, and Brazil. “So that’s why you’ve been serving in Resonate’s inner-city project,” I commented. “You have a heart for missions.”

“Yeah,” she said with some hesitation, “but also my family lives in that area.”

“Wait, by choice?” I blurted out, thinking of the crime rate in that part of the city.

“Yeah.” She kept her poise. “My stepdad and mom feel called to that area as their life’s ministry. That was one reason I chose to attend Resonate. The church’s ForIndy initiative in the inner city? It’s the kind of work our family has prayed to see for years.”

“Wow. That’s amazing!” I said. “Amanda and I used to pray for that neighborhood when we ran by while training for half marathons. Ever since Amanda passed, I’ve felt this huge burden for that area of the city. Much of what we do as a church has come out of our story and the burden it’s placed on me.”

“I’m connected  to your story in some other ways,” Kristi said, “but I don’t think you’ll want me to tell you that.” She shuffled her feet a little and looked around the room.

“What is it?” I was intrigued and a little apprehensive, especially at how awkward she had suddenly become.

“Well. Um. Davey, my stepdad is a chaplain for the Marion County prison system.” She paused to let what she said set in for a second. “And he has regular conversations with the men that killed Amanda.”

I felt all the blood rush out of my face and the room began to spin. “What?!” I was dumbfounded. What are you doing, God? The girl I’ve been interested in already has a close connection with my story? I was at the gym to decompress after a long day – the same day I had asked the Lord to show me the redemption in my story. And Kristi tells me this?

Fast forward through several months of dating, and we were ready to see how our families felt about this: hers, mine, and Amanda’s. We spent a week with Amanda’s family in Elkhart, Indiana, followed by a week with my family in North Carolina. Kristi’s family was in Indy, so we’d already had some time to talk with them. We knew those two weeks were make-or-break for us. We returned to Indy reassured and started talking about a future together.

On November 8, 2017, almost exactly two years after Amanda’s death, I got down on one knee and asked Kristi to be my wife.

It was important to Kristi that we have a small, private, and quiet wedding. You see, although she had a very loving an

d involved stepdad, her biological father hadn’t been in her life for years. Because he struggled with

serious mental illness, Kristi had often feared for her safety. She hadn’t seen her birthfather since he walked out on the family years ago, but the thought of being walked down a wedding aisle touched more than a few childhood wounds.

Meanwhile, I was aware that dozens of people had been personally involved in my journey, both with Amanda and sinc

e her passing. I couldn’t imagine not having those people present as we celebrated this new chapter of life together. Suddenly a message I had received earlier from the Lord came to mind: My redemption story would usher in Kristi’s as well. I convinced her to go through with a bigger wedding and asked her to trust me with the “walking down the aisle” part.

On a chilly, rainy, magical December day in 2017, we gathered friends and family in a castle – well, a local venue that looked like a castle. Although almost nothing in our stories looked like a fairy tale up to the point, we felt like we were living one that day.

I stood at the front with Brad Cooper, who was officiating the wedding, and waited for the doors to open, knowing that what was about to ensue would have us all in tears. I shifted nervously, hoping that everything would go as planned.

“Claire de Lune” began playing softly. The doors swung open, and everyone stood to their feet. There she was, standing alone, a magnificent beauty, delicately resplendent in a fashionable white gown with lace sleeves, clutching a bouquet of snowy flowers.

I could see the hesitation on Kristi’s face as she began to step forward. Her beloved stepfather, Lee, immediately eased out of the back row to meet her. She smiled and accepted his arm as she walked toward me. About one-third of the way down the aisle, Lee stopped walking and Kristi froze with him. He leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, and whispered in her ear, “This is where I leave you.” Stunned and unsure what to do next, she looked up at me.

At the same moment, Amanda’s father, Phil, stood up and gently took Kristi’s arm. You could almost feel the entire room gasp as people held back tears. Phil walked Kristi the next third of the way until, right on cue, my own father got up from his seat.

My dad escorted Kristi the last few steps until she stood directly in front of me, in all her radiance, and Brad asked, “Who gives this bride to be with this groom?”

“We do,” the three declared in unison from behind Kristi.

It was a storybook moment, and it wasn’t lost on either of us. Tears filled both of our eyes as we looked at each other, two broken puzzle pieces about to fit and stitch our crazy lives together to display to the world a picture of God’s redemption—an unordinary family.

Davey Blackburn is the founder of Nothing is Wasted Ministries which creates resources for those facing trauma, tragedy, and loss. He is the author of Nothing is Wasted: A True Story of Hope, Forgiveness, and Finding Purpose in Pain (July 2024). Davey and Kristi live in Indianapolis with their three kids, Natalia, Weston, and Cohen. Find resources at www.NothingIsWasted.com.

Friend, we hope this encourages you that God is not done writing your story. He can bring redemption and healing into any part of your life!

You can read more of Davey’s inspiring story in his book- Nothing is Wasted: A True Story of Hope, Forgiveness, and Finding Purpose in Pain. 

The post Nothing is Wasted first appeared on Live Original.

I remember the first family reunion I went to after I became a Christian. Now you gotta know, I was wild and unruly before I gave my life to Christ. I used to smoke so much weed, my body had become unfamiliar with sobriety. But when God saved my soul, he took that addiction away and crucified it with Jesus on the cross. In fact, I changed so much after becoming a Christian that it started to freak out some of my family members—especially my cousin Lil Ron.

Lil Ron and I were really close growing up. We were more like brothers than cousins. But when I gave my life to Christ, our relationship became muddy. I don’t think Lil Ron knew where I stood with him anymore.

He would ask me questions like “So, P, now that you a Christian, if a bunch of dudes were to show up right now and start something, would you ride for me?”

I told him, “Listen, cuzzo, if you were getting beat up, you know I would help protect you. But I ain’t gonna go out there and ride with you no more or fight people like I used to.”

And, man, that did not sit well with him. “You serious? Cuz, we your family! God ain’t gonna be upset with you if you just defending your family.”

At the time, I was torn. I couldn’t find the words to explain how much doing the things I used to do would be me returning to the grave after Jesus did to my soul what he did to Lazarus’s body. How he told death to let me go and called me to rise up from it. All I could think to say was “Cuz, I hear you. I just don’t pursue a lifestyle that dishonors God anymore.” I could feel Lil Ron’s distaste. Lil Ron felt like I was choosing the family of God over my blood family. Yeah, our family was born with the same blood, but this new family I had in Christ was bought with blood far more valuable.

After I saw how Lil Ron reacted, I kind of avoided talking about my faith with my family and close friends because I was afraid it might make them feel uncomfortable, and a big part of me was afraid of being rejected. Here I was, bold lion in the faith with strangers, but around my family, I shrank and became a passive gnat, not wanting to be seen.

When I was thirteen, on one tragic night on the south side of Chicago, a bullet missed a crowd of folks and landed in my uncle’s skull. I remember his funeral like it was this morning. That day was dark, and he was a still night star in a casket. My uncle was only thirty-one years young, and his life was gone because of some reckless man and his bullet.

Over the next several days, our entire family descended on my grandmother’s house to grieve and to support one another. Five days straight, everyone just walked around in shock, crying, and my grandmother was really struggling. Then one morning, my grandmother said to my mom, “I need to go into my room, lock the door, and get before the Lord. I don’t want anything to eat, I don’t want anything to drink, and I don’t want any company. I just want to be by myself for one whole day—just me and the Lord.”

And with that, she walked into her bedroom, closed the door, and stayed there for twenty-four hours. And then the strangest thing happened. The next morning, it’s hard to explain with words, but she just looked different. She came out of her room like a new song, smiling and going around the house comforting and praying for everyone. Man, I’d never seen anything like it. I didn’t get it . . . but I’ll tell you this: whatever it was she found in that room, it filled me with wonder.

From that day on, anytime something bad happened or something was bothering me, I looked to my grandmother. She never pushed her faith on me, told me I needed to repent, or asked me where I stood with God. She would just pray for me and encourage me and talk about her own relationship with God. I didn’t fully understand where she was coming from, but I liked the way I felt when I was around her. I felt hopeful. I felt whole.

Years later, after I had met the Lord for myself, I sat down with my grandmother and said, “Can I ask you a question?” When she said I could, I said, “Four or five days after Uncle Stan died, you went into your room for a long time, and when you came out, you seemed . . . different. What happened to you in there?”

She paused, her light brown eyes glazing over as if she were staring back to that day. “Preston,” she said, “when Stan was murdered, I felt like I was going to die. My pain felt unbearable. I didn’t have the strength to be strong for my family, and I had never felt like that before. So I went into my room, and I said to the Lord, ‘Lord, either give me the strength to be strong for my family or take me to glory.’ And then I prayed. And, Preston, I began to feel the presence of God in a way I’ve never felt it before. The Lord visited me in my room that day, and his presence was so sweet that—at that moment—I entered into God’s rest, and I’ve been there ever since.”

Man, goose bumps began to swell on my skin. Then she said, “What we have to understand, Preston, is that Christians don’t suffer the way the rest of the world suffers. Before I went into my room, I was suffering like my sons and my daughter who did not know the Lord. But once I found his presence, I had hope. That’s what the Lord does, Preston. He gives us hope.”

I get it now. Sharing our faith with our families or close friends doesn’t look like it does with strangers out on the streets, where you’re often asking questions, debating, and quoting Scripture. It looks more like my grandmother. It’s living your faith consistently in a way that makes other people seek you out because you have something that they don’t. She had a God to run to who knew exactly how to tend to her grief. That’s what drew me to her when I was hurting. It’s what drew all of us to her—even if we didn’t fully understand why.

Adapted from How to Tell the Truth: The Story of How God Saved Me to Win Hearts—Not Just Arguments by Preston Perry, available now.

Preston Perry is a poet, performance artist, teacher, author of How to Tell the Truth and apologist from Chicago. Preston’s writing and teaching has been featured on ministry platforms such as The Gospel Coalition, the Poets in Autumn Tour, and Legacy Disciple. Preston is cohost of the popular podcast With the Perrys. He created Bold Apparel and the YouTube channel Apologetics with Preston Perry in order to engage the public in theological discourse. Preston and his wife, Jackie, reside in Atlanta with their four children: Eden, Autumn, Sage, and August.

The post Too Close to Home first appeared on Live Original.

Thinking back on my past heartbreak experiences, through different seasons of life, I can confidently say that is the truth! The Lord has allowed me to walk through hard relationships, meet people who I thought was, “the one” and get my heart broken time after time. I was the girl growing up that said, “the first person I date, I want to be the one I marry!” Butttt…the Lord had other plans. Several failed relationships later, I am here, overwhelmingly thankful that was not the case.

I am now the girl that “loves” breakups. Sounds crazy, trust me, I know! But hear me out. The greatest lessons I have learned about my personal relationship with the Father was taught through times of heartbreak. The seasons where I experienced the most growth, refinement, and change, were seasons after that failed relationship with “the one.” The times when I have seen my closest friends flourish were the times after she finally broke up with the guy our friend group knew was not good for her. I love breakups.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18).” This verse has often been used to comfort me during times of heartache. However, after I read the quote mentioned earlier, this verse has a whole new meaning.

Perhaps the Lord is near to the brokenhearted because He first allowed us to experience human failure of love to better understand His.

Perhaps the Lord is near to the brokenhearted because we must first be broken to be made new in Him.

Perhaps the Lord is near to the brokenhearted because His heart breaks with us.

Perhaps the Lord is near to the brokenhearted because He is refining our character, our definition of love, and our purpose to better align with His word.

This time last year, I went through a hard breakup. It is wild to be at a place where I can talk about it as part of my testimony and share the beautiful lessons the Lord allowed me to learn through that time. Total transparency though, this is not easy. This relationship was everything from “That’s the Way I Loved You” to “All too Well” (Swifities, you know the references) Over the years of us together, the Lord made it more and more clear that we were not for each other, so we broke up.

At the beginning of 2023, I would have never put on my “resolutions” list for me to go through yet another failed relationship. I thought 2023 was going to be the year I got married, graduated, and settled down. That is what I dreamt for myself.

However, as we know the Lord has plans of His own and man, am I thankful for that!

Instead of those things happening, the Lord took a situation that was destined for heartache, depression, and failure – and completely flipped my world upside down to be the best year of my life. Just to give you a glimpse…I went through heartbreak, got the opportunity to be an LO ambassador (wooohooo!!!), went to Thailand, called into missions, moved out of my childhood home into “the cottage” with my best friends, changed my major from Public Relations to a missions degree, and so much more.

When I say I am thankful that it is His plan and not my own, I mean it!

I share this with you only to say, none of that would have been possible without the first thing on that list; “heartbreak.”

It was not the relationship itself keeping me from experiencing these things, it was my lack of keeping my priorities in line to truly see what all the Lord had in store for me. The opportunities were there all along, I just needed to fix my heart, mind, and soul on Him to see them. I was too focused on the relationship I was in and not my relationship with the Father, everything was clouded and blurred. I was letting a human relationship that was inevitably going to fail me, define love for me and was not relying on God’s perfect, unfailing love.

It is evident when it is not from God. I mean how confusing would it be if God gave us peace about every relationship we got into? When we finally meet the one He has set apart for us, it will all make sense. We will have an undeniable peace that this is the one that will be an addition to my walk with the Lord. We will see how that person is better for us and for the greater good of His kingdom. It will be peace upon peace, no convincing necessary.

But sometimes, unfortunately, it takes going through the first thing on that list, to truly know it when we see it. Because of heartbreak, I better know the character and love of God.

I have seen human love fail me, and that is ok! It is part of it. But because of His word, His love letter written from His heart to ours, we know His love will never fail us.

Psalm 73:26,” My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”

So, friend, this Valentine’s season, whether you are single, dating, heartbroken, engaged, or miss independent – I hope you can look back on the heartache and be thankful. Be thankful that the Lord allowed you to experience human failure so that you could better know His love for you. Be thankful it took a few failed relationships so that you could better recognize true love when it came into your life. Be thankful you have learned to guard your heart. Be thankful that you have gone through tough times so that way you can better relate and help others. Be thankful that each time you have gotten your heartbroken, the Lord has used that to redefine your definition of love to align with what it says in His word.

Because of heartache, we better know His love.

So, when I say I love breakups, it is because I have seen the Lord turn it around for good, time and time again!

Hey hey LO fam! My name is Raylee Evans and it is a joy to be here with you! I am a Senior Public Relations major at Lee University, which happens to be right in my hometown, Cleveland, TN! I am the second oldest of six in my family, which makes life so fun – never a dull moment! You can either find me on the pickleball courts, drinking coffee, or planning a last-minute trip. I currently work at Ever After Bridal as a bridal consultant, give campus tours at Lee to upcoming students, and I also have a little photography business on the side as well. I am a multi-passionate gal with a lotta dreams, 27 to be exact! My biggest prayer is that whatever dream I am pursing, that I am spreading His love, His joy, and His truth with everyone I come into contact with. Again, it is a joy to be here so thanks for being apart of one of those 27 dreams!

The post I Love Breakups! first appeared on Live Original.

Maybe you find yourself here today because of that breakup you thought you’d be over by now, but when you’re honest with yourself you aren’t. Or maybe you feel confused because you feel like God is calling you somewhere else, but nothing else is working out. Or maybe you feel stuck because you’re in living in what you thought was your dream only to find out it was nothing like you pictured and you aren’t sure what to do next. The list could go on and on, but please know you’re in good company.

It’s time to spill the tea! Just when I thought I had reached the peak of my confusion, it got worse. What in the world was going on? What was God up to?

The door that I thought I had a shoo-in slammed right in my face. The more I replayed it all in my head the more confusing it felt.

I had asked Him to slam the door shut on the opportunity if He had other plans for me, but why did the slamming sting so much?

It didn’t happen. I didn’t get the job.

I never pictured my career at this company ending that way. I had been there five years and gone all in. We moved here for this company. Why did I have to leave? Why was there likely going to have to be a financial sacrifice involved? What in the world did He have for me next?

Just to paint the picture, all of this went down while I was on maternity leave with my daughter Remi. I had no idea what was next and you know the anxiety and fear that comes with this, don’t you friend?

The only thing clear to me was that He wasn’t calling me back to the place I was in. This stung more than I thought it would. I didn’t realize how much of my identity was wrapped up in this job – this was just what I had always done post-grad and it became a part of who I was to others.

I started freaking out. I don’t know about you, but when I freak out… I start striving. I start craving control. For a few weeks, this is what I did. I thought of everything from opening up my own business to trying to book speaking engagements. The more I pushed, the more I felt like I was up against a huge brick wall.

After weeks of doing this, I decided I just needed to trust God… not just say I trusted Him, but truly trust Him. I called my husband and told him that I didn’t feel called back to the job I was in. Since that was the only thing I knew, surrendering that over to God had to be the first step.

The second step was to stop striving. When God plans to open a door, you can’t stop Him or His timing. That afternoon I told myself that God not only knew where to find me when He was calling me to somewhere next, He had placed me in this very spot. The rest of this story blows my mind.

The next day I checked my e-mail and had an e-mail from someone who I had connected with three years prior at a company that was literally my dream place to work. This person was coming into town in a few weeks (which was very random) and wanted to connect. The rest is history now.

Isn’t it just like Him to open a door that was three years in the making and create an opportunity that in the past I was told wasn’t possible?

It would take days to tell you everything God did and all of the ways He showed up. Seamless interview logistics is just one example. It is wild, but my last interview needed to be in the city where this organization is. Prior to ever even going through the interview process, Will and I had already planned to be in this city on that day for personal reasons.

I don’t know where you are today, but I do know that God is in the details. Someday you’ll look back on this season and say:

What felt like a rejection was God’s redirection.

When God felt silent, He was not only listening… He was making a way that felt impossible.

If I hadn’t gone through that, I wouldn’t be ready for this.

What felt like a delay was actually His perfect timing.

From someone on the other side of this, if you don’t know where to start, try out the two steps:

• First surrender over the one thing that God is making clear to you.
• Then stop striving and invite Him into it.

Don’t forget that He not only knows where you are today, He placed you there. Nothing can stop Him and His plans for your life. This season is going to be game changing, friend.

Keep leaning in because confusion has nothing on what God has for you. Your purpose doesn’t pause and He’s cultivating a way for you to press play in your everyday like never before!

Hope Reagan Harris is a wife to Will, mom to Remi Claire, coffee connoisseur, author, and product manager for YouVersion on a mission to encourage you where God has you.

If there was one thing that she’d want you to remember, it is that your purpose doesn’t pause. She is passionate about helping women break free from confusion so they can get unstuck and show up where God has placed them each and every day. She’s so passionate about you finding freedom from what’s holding you back that she wrote a book on this for you called “Purpose Doesn’t Pause” and you can pre-order it here today!

Become her friend on Instagram or TikTok friends with her @hopereaganharris.

The post Finding Freedom from What’s Holding You Back first appeared on Live Original.

Every day I met people with different religious backgrounds and moral belief systems who aggressively challenged mine, and I was embarrassed when I couldn’t defend why I didn’t drink, sleep with my boyfriend, or cheat on exams.

Because of these new relationships and intentional conversations, I found myself questioning the rules and religious rituals I had adopted growing up simply by association. I felt more loved by perfect strangers than those in my church community back home.

I attended standing-room-only campus events with classmates where topics were debated as students sat in open windows and listened from the lawn. I would leave those gatherings asking really important questions. Why did I believe what I believe? What if I was wrong? What if all these other people who were living without so many rules were actually right? Is heaven real? Is God real? Is the Bible relevant for today’s world? Did God really say that?

For the first time, I was wandering. It was messy, uncomfortable, clumsy, and emotional as I tried to detangle myself from religion and still hold on to the Jesus I knew.

Sometimes, even when others can’t see it, our wandering is the very thing that is meant to lead us home to God. I think of the story in Luke 2:41–52, where Jesus, just a boy, knew he had a call on his life, a mandate, a specific assignment that only he could fulfill, and he found himself on a journey with his parents to Jerusalem for the Feast of Passover. At twelve years old he didn’t need a career day to figure out where his life was headed; he was drawn to the temple and the teachers and he wandered from his parents to sit and learn from those doing the very thing he knew he was called to do.

The whole time Jesus was in the temple, of course, his parents were searching all over for him, assuming he was somewhere among the pilgrims, relatives, or friends. They were furious that he’d run off and they were frantic to find him. People panic when others wander. And yet the passage notes that “the teachers were all quite taken with [Jesus], impressed with the sharpness of his answers” (v. 47 MSG). Those on the outside were looking for a lost Jesus, but those to whom he had wandered welcomed him in. What a validating moment it must have been for Jesus to finally feel like he was sitting among those who understood him! Even these scholars could see that at twelve years old, Jesus had something special and unique.

I think many of us wander off to find our people, who we are, what we believe, and if anyone believes in us. We’re not looking to go rogue; we’re looking to be heard, validated, and understood.

I don’t think any of us start this process of wondering and wandering hoping to get lost. While I’m not suggesting we spend our entire lives in this place, I am suggesting we give ourselves and others grace and time to find the answers we’re looking for, and that we trust God knows exactly where we are.

We are all at different points in our wandering with Jesus. We each have different experiences, unique passions and personalities that impact our journey, and nobody can do this hard and holy work for us. We walk through wrong doors, sometimes by accident and other times by choice, and every single time he meets us on the other side.

He will leave the ninety-nine to find the one.

It’s okay if sometimes we’re the one.

We all wander off from time to time, and God does not give up on us if we’re gone a day or fifty years.

He doesn’t shame us or scold us. He celebrates our return because what was lost has been found.

He still calls us son and daughter.

The good news for you and me is that even in our wandering God has never changed his mind about us. He is so very sure of who we are in him and who he has created us to be, even on the days we feel lost, unheard, or like we’re being held back.

The beauty of wandering is that we find all sorts of things we didn’t expect to find along the way, and the journey becomes a part of our unique story. My own personal wandering would lead me from the classroom back into the sanctuary, where I met some incredible people—some who knew Jesus, some who were getting to know him, and others who were walking away. Part of my journey was finding that I really did love God and the Church, even though I carried scars and wounds that were still actively healing.

I learned to listen to people, really listen to where they were and to help them detangle and unravel from some of the very lies I had believed that had led to my own wandering and wondering. When we as the Church embark on our own faith journey and admit to having our own big questions and doubts, it’s amazing how much grace and patience we carry for those in the middle of their own.

I don’t know where you are in your wandering, but I want you to know that you are deeply loved and seen by God. There are a lot of voices speaking over you as you scroll social media looking for those who will listen to you and validate your season or assignment. Many voices will point fingers at people who hurt you and encourage you to do the same, but I challenge you to look for those who will sit with you and remind you who you are in Christ.

Who are those people you admire? Who walks with Jesus in a way that doesn’t make you feel judged but embraces your part of the journey and wants to join you on the adventure? Who shows you a Jesus who is patient and kind, slow to anger and quick in love? These are the people we look for along the way.

Don’t stop dreaming. Don’t stop wandering.

We’ve got places to go.

Excerpted from Raised to Stay: Persevering in Ministry When You Have a Million Reasons to Walk Away © 2023 Natalie Runion. Used by permission of David C Cook. May not be further reproduced. All rights reserved.

Natalie Runion is an author, speaker, worship leader, songwriter and the founder of Raised to Stay, a ministry for those raised in the church who are finding their own healing, calling and voice in church leadership. Natalie and Tony Runion live with their daughters in Colorado Springs, CO, and they attend New Life Church where Natalie recently served as a pastor. Natalie is the host of the Raised to Stay Podcast and the author of a forthcoming book entitled Raised to Stay: Persevering in Ministry When You Have a Million Reasons to Walk Away. www.RaisedtoStay.com

The post The Beauty of Wandering first appeared on Live Original.

On September 24, 2019 here are some notes I jotted down.

• Think about what I say and what I do.
• Be a sister and friend. No pressure – just love others.
• Purpose is not a position it is the posture of my heart.
• Purpose is who I am, it is something I can give the world.
• What can I give the world?
• Hebrews 10:35 says this, “Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has great reward.” – How confidently am I trusting in the Lord?
• Live original
• You can’t be confident in things that can be shaken. Be confident in the Lord.
• We look for confidence in the wrong things and that is why we fail.
• Life is inconsistent – stay grounded in faith.
• Just because things/seasons change – who I am does not have to change.
• Psalm 46
• Remain the same when the world changes.
• Authenticity is HUGE. Be vulnerable with others – if I want to make real friends, be authentic.
• Encourage friends to be their best – be a good friend to others if I want to find community.
• Don’t let fear hold you back. – Fear locks you up, we let things we go through lock us up. Vulnerability can break that.
• Be a light in the world and look beyond yourself.
• Surround yourself with persistent people and be a persistent friend in grace and love.
• You should become more joyful with who you are with, not less.
• If it is a win for the Kingdom, it is a win for me.
• Who I marry should be pursuing and running toward God with me.
• Make time for God. He is my main relationship.

These nuggets of truth, of wisdom, of advice – are from a Delta Gamma Sisterhood night on campus at Texas A&M University, Sadie, and another teammate of mine Steph, came to College Station, Texas on September 24, 2019, of my freshman year of college for a Q&A.

At this point in time, I did not know them – I was 18 and like I said a freshman in college. I had no clue what the overarching story God was beginning to write in my life. I had freshly surrendered all control of my life to God, making Jesus the Lord of my life fully and finally – following 9 years of convincing myself that I had already given God lordship over every single part of my life. But the reality was that I still had parts of my life that I was holding onto and not wanting to hand over control of.

Before I left the auditorium that night writing those notes and listening to their Q&A, in my seat I wrote this prayer: God, I am made for something more. I am praying for where I am called. I am praying for my purpose and what I can give to the world to further the Kingdom. Amen – and then funny enough in this season I had this thing where I would sign my prayers at the end because I meant business – I wanted to be a part of His story of rescue and redemption for all of humanity, I had experienced it in my own life and still to this day that is my heart.

That part of the night wrapped up around 8:30 PM, I got up from my seat with my friend and we walked outside as we were preparing to head to a Tuesday night service for a ministry called Breakaway – maybe some of you have heard of Breakaway Ministries.

Naturally as one does when walking one place to the next, I pull out my phone, refresh my notifications and begin to open a few. I open snapchat and I am pulled into this group chat with a good chunk of old high school friends and others I graduated with.

They had found my mugshot that at that point in time was 5 days old, they sent the photo in there and everyone got to have a moment to speak their mind. One of the first messages that went along with the photo was from a guy and it said: “Look who is first to fall.” Another message said: “Way to go Darcy.” And they just went on making fun, but overall tearing me down.

To preface in middle school and high school I was the girl and the friend who loved everybody, I regularly got nominated for things from homecoming court to class president, I was a dual sport athlete, I was a part of starting FCA in both my middle school and my high school, I went to church – served and spent most of my time there. I loved Jesus and had even known since seventh grade that my calling was to step into vocational girl’s ministry.

I also loved control. I loved to people please. I loved being friends with everybody so much that I would know when to act a certain way and when to not. I would pick and choose when I wanted to follow Jesus, I had convinced myself that this is what following Jesus looked like. I could have my fun and He could most definitely have my Sunday mornings. I craved a dating relationship that was “relationship goals”, so much so that I sacrificed beliefs for appearance – I mean as long as it looked like he was a good guy and at least knew of the name Jesus, I will check that box. From Sunday mornings leading worship to Saturday night abandoning all boundaries that God’s word commanded I follow. This was the double life I lived, one foot in and one foot out.

I loved control so much that I had made my life into this pie graph, saying okay Jesus you take this part, and I am going to get the rest. That is not how God operates, He wants you and He wants all of you. You are His child, and He has the best plans for you – but He is not going to force you into a relationship with Him.

A steady, committed, unwavering relationship where God was Lord of my life and I was not, is what I lacked. Through all the mess, the broken pieces, the hurt – He never stopped loving me, He never stopped pursuing me.

On September 19, 2019, I made Jesus the Lord of my life. Not just Lord over parts of my life. Lord over my whole life.

Now back to the part where I had mentioned the mugshot – It was a Thursday morning I woke up for class, went about my day, and as the night rolled around I was serving a student organization called Youth Impact, that was affiliated with a church in the area and we partnered with children who lived in government housing and would become family to them, building close relationships and treating them like our younger sisters and brothers, we would play games then transition into a message and breakout groups. Every single Thursday we shared the gospel with these kids. I was a group leader and all that meant was I would lead discussion, pick up kids, and was responsible for a basket filled of bibles and random toys.

When Youth Impact ended that night, I went out to eat with some of those people, put the basket of bibles in my passenger seat, and after headed by to my place to change clothes and get ready for the night.

Almost every weekend leading up to this point my life it felt like some sort of tug of war or game of hide and seek – I had just begun to make incredible Christian community, the semester had just started, they all got busy with their schedules jumping into new things and well to be honest I felt alone, friendless, and confused.

I remember being told in this same season, “college is the best time of your life”, “these are the days to get it all out of your system”, or “you are supposed to party – it is college – no one cares”. I got tired of continuing to go to church alone, I had been there almost a month nothing was clicking (more like I was not giving anything time to grow and I was expecting community to just magically happen), so I re-kindled friendships with one of my previous best friends from high school who I had just naturally fallen off with because we were living different lives, she wanted to party and live the “college experience” and meet guys, and at the start that is just not where my head was at.

She had invited me out a few times and on this final time, she invited me to one of our hometown friends’ birthdays. So, after serving youth, I got ready and met them at this house. When I got there the pregaming began, girls were changing to wear less to go out – I even changed, I drank with them because I thought that is what I was supposed to do – I did not want to be the odd one out – it seemed fun, and I loved to people please. After a while my heart sank, we were getting ready to go out to the local college bar and I didn’t want too anymore. I had this moment where I realized this is not how I want to live my life and that these were not my people.

So, I grabbed my keys and made my exit forcibly. As I was driving home, I was 1 minute from my townhome and in a double turn lane I hugged the inside and as I did, I got hit on my right. The last thing that you want to have happen, an inconvenient accident as you are so close to getting home. And to make the circumstance even worse, I am 18, brand new in a college town, a minor with alcohol in my system. Me and this guy pull of, there is little damage, and we swap insurance – the whole thing. As we are doing that a third car pulls up, a guy jumps out and lets me know that he has witnessed this all and he has called a cop to come help.

I am panicked and desperate for a way out – I know that I am in the wrong, so I called my brother (who at the time, was not following Jesus and was studying criminology at another university) and he told me to lie. Deny everything I had been doing and lie. I had no peace with that advice even though it was from a place of love and protection, I even glanced over at the basket of bibles thinking for a second – “Surely this officer will see this basket of bibles on my passenger seat and know that I am a good person and let me off easy.”

I began to pray and ask God for help, in my heart and mind begging for Him to speak to me. He did. As clear as ever and I will never forget it. He said, “I can do everything with your honesty, but I will do nothing with your dishonesty.” That is it, that was the word. So, what do I do when the officer walks up to me? I tell him everything, and I say it honestly.

Long story short, he lets the other guy go, but as for me I was not done being dealt with. He arrests me and takes me back to the station to breathalyze me and confirm that I indeed had alcohol in my system. I am convicted with a DUI and spent the night sitting in a chair in a holding center. I got to make phone calls to see if anyone could come bail me out, but like Adam and Eve – I hid from my earthly Father, I didn’t call anyone in my family. But I started to call people in town from new friends to current roommates, no one answered. After trying to make some calls, the front desk lady looked at me, whispered, “I know you are not supposed to be in here. This is not who you are, this is just something that happened,” and then she slid me a bail bondsman number to call and get me out.

That night as I sat there, I was as low as you can get. From feeling humiliated, like a failure, to just utterly defeated. I thought of the verse, “There is a way that seems right to man but ends in death.” – Proverbs 16:25

The bible doesn’t just say God’s way leads to everlasting life, and the enemy’s way leads to death – because it sounds good or make a great plot. God’s word says it because it is clear cut truth. I knew that if I continued down the path, I was on that it would legitimately perhaps lead to my death for actions that do not bear life.

The days and months after that night were difficult, I am not going to tell you it was easy. But it was an easy choice for me to finally make and say, “God I see that my way will surely lead me to death, but your way leads me to everlasting life. I want your way. I want you in the driver seat. I want you to be the Lord of my life because my way without you will lead me to death.”

My record weeks later got cleared because the officer who conducted evidence against me committed an assault and was fired from his position. My case was dropped and the time of COVID 19 aka the world’s lock down began, all I wanted was to sit in God’s word and get to know more of Him. He is love. His is the only way to everlasting life. He has the best plans in mind for you. But you have to make the choice to surrender all control and say, “Lord Jesus I want your ways because I know where mine will take me.”

I wrote a poem inspired from that season that I want to leave you with today –

come back.

I think that God lets us navigate life in sharp turns, narrow paths, curvy roads,

and gut-wrenching drives

because if He only allowed us to navigate life on one straight path,

our affection for Him may be lessened.

So, we are given a choice.

A choice to love.

A choice to choose what turn we make.

These choices are what make life a journey.

Some drives aren’t fun, some you are used to, some will take you breath away, and some will make your heart break.

I’m thankful we are not left alone to navigate our way back from the paths we take that perhaps were not the right turn.

It is through my lack of understanding in which road to take that God uses to boost my dependence on Him.

It’s not an easy journey, but I will choose this every day.

And, for the times I don’t or stray away there’s an unending grace from Jesus.

Won’t you come back?

Friend, whatever you think is counting you out is the exact thing God is pointing at and saying that is exactly what is counting you in. He loves you and is everyday inviting you into the best story we could ever get to be a part of. Do not let the enemy convince you that you are too far gone or unusable by God – that is a lie. The broken pieces of your story that are picked up and placed by together by your Heavenly Father, create a far more beautiful story than one you could ever write.

Darcy Clark is a member of Team LO! She is a Jesus follower and friend to many. She enjoys coffee sipping, exploring, and writing. She is an aspiring author, current dreamer. Darcy spent two years at Texas A&M University before stepping into girls ministry full time in multiple states and has since moved to Louisiana to be a part of Team LO.

Keep up with Darcy on Instagram @darcyclark!

The post Your Past Doesn’t Count You Out first appeared on Live Original.

“Didn’t you do drill team, Beth?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not the same thing as—”

“Fabulous! When’s the kickoff?”

“I’m going to have to give this some thought,” I explained, “because I promised God that, whatever I did, I’d do as ministry.”

Unimpressed, they retorted, “So, do it as ministry.”

I turned the idea over and over in my head. “Maybe I could figure a way to use Christian music.”

To their credit, they affirmed the idea, though I could plainly see from their expressions that they pictured us stretching in our tights and leotards to “Rock of Ages.”

“I need to actually learn how to do aerobics.”

Exasperated, they asked, “Well, how long is that gonna take?”

It didn’t take long. I enrolled in an aerobics class not far from my home to get the hang of it and, lo and behold, loved it. This was 1980, when Christian contemporary music was just beginning to get airplay on local Christian radio stations. Songs were coming out weekly by artists like Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, Steven Curtis Chapman, and Leon Patillo, and groups like the Imperials, Petra, Harvest, Farrell and Farrell, and White Heart that were clearly begging for choreography. The music was there if I had enough imagination.

For better and for worse, imagination happens to be one of my strong suits. With a baby on a blanket beside me, kicking her little legs to the beat, I started choreographing aerobic exercises to Christian contemporary music. We announced a kickoff in the church bulletin and on posters in the halls and women’s restrooms a month later. The church let us use a small room if we’d remove the chairs ourselves and put them back afterward, and by the first night, we were already short on space.

Eight people was one thing. What’s a few lunges between friends? But when the class kept growing, I got antsy. I needed to know what I was doing. I contacted Houston’s renowned First Baptist Church because, according to hearsay, they’d spent a small fortune building, of all scandalous things, what they called a Christian Life Center. It was complete with an indoor track, basketball and racquetball courts, a weight room, a café, a bowling alley, and locker rooms with showers. This was a fancy outfit. A friend of mine had seen the women’s locker room with her own eyes and claimed they even furnished handheld hair dryers.

I’d end up overseeing the program and teaching multiple classes a week—advanced and intermediate—in that “Christian Life Center” for twelve years and cry like there was no tomorrow when the time came to give it up. I’ve never in my ministry life done anything that was a bigger riot. If pure fun qualified as fruit of the Spirit, we were as Spirit-filled as women in tights get. We laughed and carried on, tripped over our own feet, crunched our stomach muscles, worked our thighs until we felt the burn, danced our hearts out, sang loud to every song, and dripped with enough sweat to swim to the parking lot.

Ironically, the most important element of my new part-time job was the part I didn’t want.

“I’d like you to pray about moving your letter here to First Baptist.”

The request came from my new boss moments after he told me I was hired. Moving your letter was something Southern Baptists did when we transferred our membership from one church to another. In our world, it went without saying that moving one’s letter was something that occurred laterally between two Southern Baptist churches. If you were moving from a Baptist church to, say, a Methodist church, you were indeed moving somewhere, but it was down. This I write without a whit of meanness. I can’t even work up any cynicism. This was our culture, and I was contentedly at home in it. I find comfort in the blessed assurance that other denominations surely had their own forms of exclusivity.

“We prayed about it and feel led to just stay in our neighborhood church,” I said to my new boss a week later by phone. I loved our smaller church and had not one inclination to budge, hair dryers or no hair dryers. The other line went silent for about fifteen seconds, then he said, “Well, then, I may not have made the offer as clear as I should have. I apologize for that. It’s part of the offer. I hope that’s not too inconvenient.”

I took this crisis with great haste to the Lord in prayer, to which the Lord responded with equal haste by moving our letter to First Baptist Church.

My first official opportunity to stand in front of a group and speak occurred at First Baptist’s annual women’s retreat when I was still in my early twenties. I’d been asked to do a breakout session on, you guessed it, aerobics. I entitled the fifty-minute message “Making Fitness Count for Christ.” I spoke for the first thirty, then slapped a cassette tape in my boom box and got them on their feet the last twenty. Granted, the choreography had to be carefully crafted to accommodate attire since, in those days, most women came to church retreats at fancy hotels in dresses and navy-blue hosiery.

The gift our young selves give to our old selves, if we’re lucky, is pure absurdity. I have hated the young woman I used to be many times for many reasons, but I can only love a woman who takes herself seriously reading from a Bible while wearing a sweatband.

At the end of the first of a jillion breakout sessions I’d do in my young speaking life, a woman named Marge Caldwell approached me. Among the sages of Houston’s First Baptist Church, warm and charming and funny, she was probably the most popular Christian motivational speaker in our denomination even at almost seventy. Women speakers in the conservative church world were only slightly scarcer than unicorns. Marge had served all over the United States and in multiple foreign countries. She was the keynote speaker at the retreat.

The embodiment of grace and poise, Marge reached out her hand and introduced herself to me.

“Beth,” she said, her blue eyes narrowing, “I think you’re called to do this.”

I assumed she meant teaching aerobics. I felt a bead of sweat run from under my thick hair down my spine.

“No, no, I don’t mean this so much,” she quickly followed up, shooting a glance toward my three-pound hand weights. “I mean, I think you’re called to speak.”

Adapted from All My Knotted-Up Life: A Memoir by Beth Moore. Copyright © 2023. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, a Division of Tyndale House Ministries. All rights reserved.

The post All My Knotted-Up Life first appeared on Live Original.

Break me.

Those words had bounced around in my head for weeks. I knew they had been planted there by the Holy Spirit. I had a sense that they were serious, that I should not say them lightly. I knew they somehow signaled that I was ready for his plan and his way of busting in to come get me. Sounded scary. And ugly. And out of my control.

My first “yes” to Jesus in years was in those two little words. Two weeks after I dared say them out loud, a chain of events went down that led to my confession. I went home one day and told my husband about the affair. The relationship was also exposed around that time at work. I knew God was behind it all. I knew the crash was coming before it came. I knew it when I said those words to God. As painful as it was, I had a strange certainty it was part of something that had to be done. And I was right. The old foundation just wasn’t strong enough.

The weeks that followed were terrible. I felt more guilt, pain, hopelessness, and fear than I thought one person could take. I couldn’t eat. The only peace I had was the split second as I opened my eyes each morning before my reality all came crashing down on me again. For months after, I wondered daily if my husband would even come home. I was a pariah at work. The “house” I thought I was building was in a heap at my feet.

But the God I encountered in that time changed my whole life. In my worst and weakest moment, I found something much, much stronger, kinder, and better to stand on. I found the truth, compassion, and power of a living God who can hold up any life and rebuild after any fall. The first act of kindness was a vision I had one night while lying in bed. Alone. While I was wondering if “alone” would be my new normal, I felt God’s arms around me. I saw a picture—sort of like a daydream—of two long, welcoming, strong, warm arms reaching down and encircling my entire home. Not just for me but for my husband, who was sleeping in the room next to mine. I felt warm and held and, for a moment, I knew he was there.

I caught another glimpse of this God in the mirror one day. I paused, studying my own reflection. I told her the ugly truth: “Alli, you’re a liar, a terrible friend, a dishonest employee, and the worst wife.” I stood looking in the mirror, sobbing at the truth of it all. But something else happened. Right there, in the painful truth of that confession, I also felt a rush of reassurance and relief that I didn’t have to hold myself an inch above collapse anymore. I could let go and trust him instead of myself to hold it all together. I also felt his promise that one day I wouldn’t even recognize this person I saw in the mirror. I knew deep down she wasn’t me anyway.

I saw this amazing God again in a small room with the HR woman who I’d tried so hard to avoid. She was talking about what would happen to me at work—my reputation was another pile of rocks at my feet. I was crying; I couldn’t look her in the eyes. She paused awkwardly and gently said, “Could I pray for you right now?” My head snapped up and my eyes got wide as the room filled with the presence of God. Even in my shame and heartbreak, Jesus got down underneath me to hold me up.

Every one of these moments was a beam driven into my crumbling foundation. Jesus took the time and care to convince me when I felt worthless that he is a God who does not agree. He showed me over and over that he meant his words: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28). Jesus seemed to want me to come to him especially in the places where I wasn’t on solid ground. It was in those spots he offered to let me stand on him.

He did that for the apostle Paul too. Paul had a huge collapse, but Jesus gave him a new foundation. You can read the story starting in Acts 9. Later, as Paul thought about the Jesus who chased him down with grace when he was at his worst, he recognized there was always a plan to rebuild his life. He wrote letters to the churches he planted about his own experiences with Jesus and how there was a plan in place for his life way before he knew it: “When God, who set me apart from my mother’s womb and called me by his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son in me so that I might preach him among the Gentiles”(Gal. 1:15–16). God picked Paul even before his worst days, knowing they would come. God showed him the real Jesus so Paul could go on and tell others how to find this incredible strength and grace too.

It was during this time, the lowest time in my life, that I stumbled into the everyday habits of this book—coming broken to him, trying to read the Bible again, and risking actual moves of faith. Because I had nothing to lose, I told the truth to every question I was asked. I didn’t have the energy to pretend anymore. It was obvious who I was, and it wasn’t pretty. I confessed, apologized, took responsibility, and repented. I prayed every day—pretty much all day. I told God I was willing to follow him anywhere. And I really tried to do that. What I didn’t know was that I was slowly uncovering the key of life as a disciple: taking risks on God. I risked telling the absolute truth and found forgiveness. I risked destroying the last bit of trust when I confessed and instead earned a tiny bit back. I risked a no when I asked, “Can you forgive me?” Instead, I heard a yes. Life as a Jesus follower is full of all kinds of risks to convince us of the truth:

“Everyone who comes to me and listens to my words and puts them into practice—I will show you what he is like: He is like a man building a house, who dug down deep, and laid the foundation on bedrock.” (Luke 6:47–48 NET)

There’s a life and a strength for you far beyond your own. There’s a better foundation for your life than you or your money, your reputation, your connections, your adventures, your intelligence, or your morality and goodness. Paul and I and many others have preached the same gospel: Jesus died for your sins and rose from the dead according to the everlasting plans of God so that you could be offered a life that will never end, standing firm on the only foundation that’s strong enough to last. And it’s all by his grace. You will never deserve it. Whatever you build on him will stand. Nothing else will hold.

It’s all about the foundation.

The good news is that no matter where you are when you start this book, Jesus can build or rebuild anything. He fills in cracks, adds steel beams, and drives piers through your old concrete. And you can meet him in three simple rhythms of faith.

Come to him. Hear his word. Practice it in your life.

Today is a day you either widen a crack or fill one in. Let’s dig deep and build on rock.

Alli Patterson is passionate about helping others build a life on the firm foundation of Jesus’s truth and grace. She holds a master’s degree in biblical studies from Dallas Theological Seminary and is a teaching pastor at Crossroads Church. She lives with her husband, Bill, their four children, and one very bratty cat. Alli is a fan of Mexican food, Ohio State football, geeky Bible maps and timelines, pedicures, long runs, and good books.

To connect with Alli and find more information about her book How to Stay Standing go to www.theallipatterson.com. 

The post How to Stay Standing first appeared on Live Original.

Around mile four I began a conversation with God. I thanked him for my life, family, work, ministry, friendships, and the gift of healthy lungs that allow me to run. I prayed for wisdom to carry me and my team through an unknown future—one that required helping churches around the world figure out how to operate without gathering in a building. As the head of global faith partnerships at Facebook, I had received more calls, texts, emails, and direct messages from pastors and church leaders during the first weeks of COVID-19 than I had in the three years prior.

As I reached mile six, a favorite song came on, and I did a run-dance on the sidewalk as drivers-by looked at me in confusion. I punched the air and clapped with the beat while singing, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart! Trust in the Lord with all your mind! Trust in the Lord with all your strength! Lean not on your own understanding!” The upbeat tempo always got me pumped, but I had no idea that an hour later my trust in the Lord would be put to the test.

I made it home just in time to give my seven- and ten-year-old sons sweaty hugs and my husband a sweaty kiss before they left for the day. Then I started my post-run routine of showering, stretching, making a pot of tea, and having some quiet time with the Lord. I was looking forward to my Bible study time because the cancelation of many of my speaking engagements allowed me to study for the fun of it without the pressure of preparing to give a message.

The Holy Spirit had led me to take an interest in the life of Jonathan, King Saul’s son. A lot was written about his father, and even more was written about his best friend, David, but I had never looked closely at Jonathan. I started reading in 1 Samuel 14, which tells the story of how Jonathan waged an attack on a Philistine outpost with only his young armor-bearer by his side. As Jonathan made his way to Mikmash to fight two dozen Philistines by himself, his father, the king, rested comfortably under a pomegranate tree in Gibeah with six hundred soldiers. The juxtaposition of the two scenes was striking.

When Jonathan and his young armor-bearer reached the outpost, they saw that the Philistines were positioned on a cliff. This put Jonathan and his armor-bearer at a strategic disadvantage because it robbed them of the element of surprise. The climb to the Philistines’ position would also use precious energy they needed for the battle. Nevertheless, Jonathan turned to his armor-bearer and said, “Come, let’s go over to the outpost of those uncircumcised men. Perhaps the Lord will act in our behalf. Nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few” (1 Samuel 14:6).

I repeated that last line to myself: “Nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few.” Something about it resonated. When the Lord is for us, we can be outnumbered but are never unprotected.

I read a couple more chapters and then decided it was time to start my day. I quickly checked my Facebook page to respond to comments and messages and then did the same on Instagram. Although I normally go straight to my Instagram notifications, that day I caught a glimpse of my newsfeed first. And that’s when the downward emotional spiral started.

Friend 1: Hey, friends! I’m so excited to announce that I’m joining the speaker lineup for Susie Sacred’s Full Blossom Conference. Visit the link in my bio to register, and meet me online next month with an incredible roster of speakers!

Friend 2: I’m beyond ecstatic to share that I’ll be speaking at the Full Blossom Conference next month with Susie Sacred and an amazing roster of the best speakers across every sector. Will you be there? Comment below to let me know!

Friend 3: Next month is going to be epic! Join me and other amazing speakers at the Full Blossom Conference with Susie Sacred online next month. I have a message for you. Tag a friend and register at fullblossom.com!

After scrolling for what felt like an eternity, I counted no fewer than eight friends posting the exciting news that they were joining an amazing roster of speakers for a major women’s conference that was going virtual because of the pandemic. Since I don’t follow many people on social media, it seemed like the only thing in my newsfeed was an avalanche of exciting announcements about speaking at the Full Blossom Conference.

“Why wasn’t I invited to speak?” I asked aloud. “It’s like Susie asked everyone we mutually know except me.”

With each new post, I felt what can only be described as the stab of an emotional ice pick to the heart. My mind was clouded with hurt, so I stopped scrolling, closed Instagram, and looked out my living room window into a beautiful day. The skies were blue and filled with fluffy white clouds. Birds bounded from limb to limb on the tree just outside my window. But the beauty outside couldn’t overcome the ugliness churning inside me.

I was scheduled to join a video conference, but I was so distracted by confusion and pain that I went to the kitchen to make another pot of tea. As I stirred the honey into my teacup and watched the golden sweetness dissolve into the hot water, I was flooded with “why” questions.

Why was I left out?

Why was I not considered?

Why was I overlooked?

Why was I not worthy of an invitation?

An old, familiar hurt resurfaced inside—the hurt of being unwanted.

I’ve had a full speaking schedule for years, despite never once advertising myself as a speaker or asking to speak at events. And I receive more speaking invitations for business and church conferences than I can accept. I’ve been invited to speak on multiple continents and keynoted major conferences across the United States and abroad. Yet, somehow, not being invited to speak at this conference bothered me.

I’d heard of Full Blossom before and had never desired to speak at it, but after I saw many of the people in my ministry circle invited to speak there, my exclusion catalyzed a self-worth inquisition. Comparison makes what never mattered before the thing that matters most.

As I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop, I felt a magnetic pull back to Instagram. I had back-to-back video conferences every thirty minutes for the next seven hours, so I set my phone down and logged on for the first meeting. Within ten minutes, I had discreetly unlocked my phone, opened Instagram, and continued the scroll. An irresistible and poisonous thread tugged on my heart and distracted me from work.

I went to Susie’s profile and saw post after post of her gushing about each speaker: how incredible they were and how perfect the conference would be because of them. My chest tightened, and a lump grew in my throat as I watched a video of her enthusiastically naming several of my friends as speakers. Although she spoke about them, my heart heard her speaking to me: Nona, I know who you are. I’ve seen what you do. And you’re not good enough. You’re not what I’m looking for. You’re just average.

I had not only constructed the full-blown, play-by-play narrative for why Susie hadn’t invited me but also decided I needed to unfollow everyone she had invited to speak. My heart felt like it would shatter if I saw one more friend’s post about the awesome conference I wasn’t invited to speak at. I didn’t want to wade through endless reminders that they were speaking at the conference and I wasn’t.

“Why did she pick everyone around me but not me?” I asked aloud again. The more I thought about it, the more my hurt turned to anger. But in my anger, I heard the Holy Spirit ask a different question: “Why does it matter?”

“Why does it matter?” I responded incredulously. “Because everyone who’s anyone will be speaking there. And I’m not. This will be the largest online women’s ministry gathering of the year, and I will be absent.”

“So you think you matter only because of the speaking invitations you receive?” the Holy Spirit asked.

“No,” I said. “I know I matter to you. I just . . . I just . . .” I stammered as the weight of the truth settled on me.

“Go ahead,” the Holy Spirit prompted, “say it.”

“I just want to matter to them too,” I whispered, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

“I know, Nona. You want to matter to them because you’re insecure,” the Holy Spirit said matter-of-factly.

“Insecure?” I responded with disbelief. “I’m not insecure! Far from it. I know who I am in you. I preach about it regularly. Besides, I have everything I could ever want and more than I could ever have imagined. I’m definitely not insecure!”

With love and conviction, the Holy Spirit said, “Nona, you think people are insecure if they don’t like how they look or don’t like what they have or don’t like what they do. Those are expressions of insecurity, but they’re not the root of insecurity. The root of insecurity is when your identity is built on an insecure foundation.”

As I considered what the Holy Spirit said, I felt defensive. “My identity is secured to you, Lord. I know what the Word says about who I am, and I believe it. How can you say I’m insecure?”

“Yes, you know what my Word says, and you also believe it,” affirmed the Holy Spirit. “But knowledge and belief are not the same as faith. As long as you know my Word in your head and believe it in your heart but don’t practice it daily, your identity will continue to be secured to the affirmation of others. You have built your identity on people’s approval. People show their approval with likes on social media, but I demonstrated my approval through love on the cross. I approved of you before you were formed in your mother’s womb. And my approval is unchanging.”

The truth in these words hit me like a Mack truck. So much of my life had been spent trying to win people’s approval, and maybe yours has too:

That time in high school when you were one of the “it” girls and got invited to all the best parties and hangouts—until you were no longer invited. A wealthy new girl started attending the school and your friends decided there wasn’t enough room in the clique for both of you, so they kicked you out to make room for her.

Those months when your calendar was filled with business travel and making deals on multiple continents while wining and dining with the powerful—until, without explanation, your calls started going to voicemail and your emails went unreturned. A new company emerged on the scene, and everyone wanted to do deals with them instead.

Those years when you were your pastor’s favorite Sunday school teacher and he placed you in charge of the entire Sunday school department—until he decided your style was outdated and brought in a skinny-jeans-wearing kid with a mohawk and a TikTok following to “get things back on track.”

The approval of others is never permanent, and it often depends on variables that are beyond our control. People use things such as height, weight, wealth, popularity, theology, position, or political affiliation as “approval filters” to determine whether we’re good enough for them. Yet God approved of us before there was anything to approve of. God created us on purpose, with purpose.

The Holy Spirit said, “Nona, the reason you’re hurt by not being invited to speak at that conference is because you measure your worth based on how much people approve of you compared to others. When you aren’t secured to the stable foundation of who I say you are, you drift with the shifting currents of others’ opinions about you. When you drift from me, you have to secure your identity to people’s opinions to stay afloat. Your insecurity didn’t start this morning. You’ve been insecure most of your life.”

I sat in silence with my eyes closed, reflecting on what the Holy Spirit had said. Before I knew it, my eyes were brimming with tears. The Holy Spirit was right—as always.

Somewhere along the line, I had surrendered my purpose for performative applause. God had valued me before I even had the ability to perform my way into his love. Though God determined I was worth dying for at my worst (Romans 5:8), I made the mistake of conflating my eternal, intrinsic value with likes, follows, shares, and speaking invitations. And the craziest part of it all is that no one knew. Not even me. It happened subtly, over time.

With every larger platform I stepped onto, my heart had slowly detached from the secure foundation of God’s approval and attached itself to the insecure foundation of other people’s approval, creating insecurity.

“Lord, you’re right,” I said. “You say in your Word that people honor you with their lips but their hearts are far from you. I now understand what you mean. I have honored you with my lips, but I’m not honoring you with my life. Lord, I need your help. Please deliver me from insecurity.”

“Nona, what you’re asking will require more than you expect, but if you trust me and obey me, I will help you get to freedom. You must no longer look to others for approval; you must look only to me.”

“Lord, I’m ready,” I said.

“No, you’re not. But that’s what my grace is for.”

Just as Jonathan was outnumbered against the Philistines, we can feel overwhelmed by seeming to never measure up. But the same divine grace that enabled his victory is the same grace that enables our victory over insecurity too.

Taken from KILLING COMPARISON by Nona Jones. Copyright © September 27, 2022 by Nona Jones. Used by permission of Zondervan. www.zondervan.com.

Nona Jones is a rare combination of preacher, business executive, author, and entrepreneur. In her day job she serves as the Director of North America Community Partnerships andGlobalFaithPartnerships atMeta, the company formerly known as Facebook. She is the best selling author of two books; Success from the Inside Out, chronicling her unlikely story of success after a childhood filled with physical and sexual abuse, andFrom Social Media to Social Ministry, the globally acclaimed guide to digital discipleship for churches.

She and her husband,Pastor Tim, lead Open Door Church in Gainesville, FL and are the proud parents of two boys, Timothy, Jr. and Isaac, and one girl, Golden doodle Shiloh.

The post Killing Comparison first appeared on Live Original.

Now, enjoy today’s post from Megan 🙂 

___________

When 2022 began, I believed God was going to send me on the most incredible journey I had ever been on! I was a new resident in a brand-new city (Nashville, TN), I had my dream job, and great community of friends, and the interest of a cute boy! Ladies, we all know that a cute boy can change the world! Flash-forward to the summer my year of “re-claiming greatness” slowly began to shift to a year I had never asked for or wanted.

At the start of every new year, I begin the year asking God what verse He desires me to soak in for the New Year, this year that verse just happened to be: “Delight thyself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” (Psalm 37:4) Every time I pondered this verse in my quiet time with the Lord, I asked the Lord to show me what the desires of His heart were over the course of this year.

I never imagined by in December of 2021, as I prayed in the new year,  that by June of 2022 I would be diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, suffer the loss of my greatest cheerleader (my grandmother), end up moving to a new home, lose my job, have some dear friends turn their backs, and that boy I mentioned at the beginning well, let’s just say Cinderella still is waiting for her glass slipper.

You know that point when you think life cannot get any worse, well, I thought that about every week of this year. The enemy has a way of worming his way into our minds and reminding us of our greatest failures. For some reason these reminders just continue to make our life a little worse, instead of helping us reclaim the ground for the King of the universe. We all have that voice that sneaks into our heads when we are sitting alone scrolling on our Instagram feeds, when we are sitting watching TV at night, or anytime we are alone. It is the voice of the enemy reminding us of our biggest mistakes and somehow these mistakes seem a little bigger every time he speaks them into existence.

So, the question remains “what has Jesus been teaching me?” In my humanness I would have told you this season has been the worst season of my life. But through the lens of Faith, I see God showing up in community. God has opened my eyes to how beautiful and special community is in our day to day lives. In my lowest and darkest moments, He has sent ladies in my community to surround me in prayer, lift me up and encourage me to take one more step into the next day. 

I used to think that to “Win someone to Him,” we needed to have the perfect job that inspired millions of people. Now through the ups and downs of the seasons God is showing me that I don’t need the perfect career to inspire others to be a part of His kingdom, I simply need to show up each day and share my story with the 5 loaves and 2 fish that He gives me.

God has been teaching me, I don’t need to have my life planned out for my entire life, year, month, or even the week. It all begins each morning and starts with taking another step each day, each moment even with the God of universe. Sisters, we are not promised a single day, God has ordained each one of them. The God of the Universe has opened my eyes to see that my life does not have to be perfect, in fact it is perfectly fine if it is a little messy. 

So back now to Psalm 37:4, I would be lying if I did not say to you, I have not asked God maybe once, twice, or maybe one million times; Why is this happening? But through all the struggle and all the questioning I have come to find God is teaching me truly what HIS desires truly are for my life. I would be again lying to you if I said I was not at all disappointed at the loss of my dream job, that came along with some of the most incredible co-workers. But I’m finding that as I search the heart of the Father, He is revealing that His desires for my life are way better than what I thought my dream job was. Yes, in my humanness I do mourn the loss of what has happened this year, but I look forward expectant of what the God of the Universe has in store.

So, as you can see my life may not be the life of a picture-perfect Instagram influencer, in fact it is quite the opposite. If hot mess Instagram influencers were a thing, I would be verified by now. But through the chaos, the trials, and the total opposite Cinderella story of a year, I have found Jesus to be faithful, true, and beyond worthy of my praise. Back in my Freshman year of College at Liberty University, my Community Group Leader themed our group to “Hills and Valleys.” This theme was centralized to the idea that we face many HIGHS and LOWS in and year, but throughout the highs and lows of our life, we serve a God who will journey with us through the low valleys that life brings, we also serve a God who is with us on the mountaintop moments when we feel like we are the kings and queens of the world.  

So to finish up our time together, Jesus is teaching me that the beautiful dreams I thought I had for my life and my future are nothing compared to the amazing story he is writing for my future. Yes, I am still a hot mess express on most days, but I am beyond expectant to see where the King of the Universe leads me in this next season.  

Megan grew up in rural Lancaster County, PA. Her greatest inspiration was her grandparents as they encouraged her to continue to pursue dreams bigger than the county lines. Megan holds her roots close as she journey’s into the world of LIVE Music. As a graduate of Liberty University and Berklee College of Music, she has had the opportunity to work alongside many of her heroes.  
 
Most known for her diverse skill set in the world of Digital Marketing and Event Management, Megan has worked on album release teams and as the social media manager for many of today’s mainstream artists. Close to Megan’s heart is a ministry that was birthed out of COVID-19 “Clothed in Dignity,” this is a Women’s ministry that focuses primarily on Proverbs 31, reminding women that chosen and loved by the God of the Universe!  

 She is the founder of This Day Ministry and a new start up podcast launching this Fall by the name of Consider the Lilies!

The post God of the Unknown first appeared on Live Original.