Because He Lives

Hello friends! My name is Lacey Higgins. I am from Pontotoc, MS; however, I currently live in Clinton, MS where I go to school at Mississippi College. I am a Sophomore Public Relations marketing major with a Christian Studies minor. I am in Kissimee Social Tribe. This spring break I went with this tribe to Haiti on a missions trip! If you want to know more, you can check out my blog.

 

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“Because He lives, I can face tomorrow.  Because He lives, all fear is gone.  Because I know He hold the future, life is worth the living just because He lives.”  Sunday morning, I (and a group of my Kissimee Social Tribe sisters from Mississippi College) walked into Bertin Church.   The music to this song started to play, and we sang along.  However, it was very different from any other time we sang this song.  When the music started to play, the people around us all started to sing unfamiliar words.  It was like God was giving me a glimpse of what Heaven is going to be like one day.

Revelation 7:9-10
After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes, and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the lamb clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!”

Let me explain: we were in Haiti on a mission trip through Praying Pelican Missions (PPM).  Everyone in the church looked different than us.  Everyone in the church spoke a different language than us.  BUT we all sang ONE song to the ONE true God.  It was beautiful.
We did a number of different ministries during our time in Haiti that included:

• School Ministries: We went to Bertin School and did VBS (Vacation Bible School).  We told a story and acted it out.  We also did some form of craft with the kids and sang some songs.

• Mercy Ministries: This was my favorite thing we did. We went into the community to people’s houses that were shut in for any reason (sick, broke leg, really old, etc.).  We would ask them questions about their life, tell them our story, and pray with them.

• ASCHA Ministries: ASCHA is a handicap orphanage. There were children with mental disabilities, children in wheel chairs, and healthy children.  Here, we told the same story we did at the school ministry and acted it out.  We also did crafts with them.

• Feeding Program Ministries: Here we served food to the children in the community who otherwise could not afford to eat.

• Women’s ministry: For this ministry, we went back to Bertin church. We invited women to come and hear us tell the same stories we did at the school ministry and ASCHA.  After reading the stories, we would go into some deep conversations.  It was a blessing.

 

We did three days of ministries.  The first day we told the story of The Good Samaritan (Luke 10).  The second day we did the story of The Lost Coin and The Lost Sheep (Luke 15).  We ended the week with the story of The Prodigal Son (Luke 15).  The kids at the school ministry loved watching us act out all the stories, but I think my team had even more fun watching the kids.  They have so little in Haiti, yet they have so much Joy.  They were proof that Joy does not have to be circumstantial if your Joy comes from the LORD.  The Joy of the LORD is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10).  I once heard it said, “I left to go on an oversees mission trip with the mindset that I was going to change their lives, but in reality, they are the ones who changed my life forever.”  This was my favorite part of the school ministries and ASCHA ministries: The kids gave me a new perspective on life.
There are two different women who we visited during our Mercy Ministries that I want to share with you.  The first one could barely walk.  She was a believer, but she was sad that she could not go to church anymore, so our trip leader (shout out to Melanie McCoy) asked her if we could have church right there in her home.  She agreed, so we sang a song that our team had learned in Creole.  It goes like this:

Verse:
M Konnen’w se Pitit la
Ou se anyo a
E ou se Kris la
M Konnen’w se Senye a
Dye Tou pisan
E Wa de Wa
Chorus:
E mewen adore’w
Mwen adore’w
Mwen adore’w Jezi
Bridge:
Ou se Premye e Denye
Alfa e Omega
Lyon Jida a
Pa gen lot

In English, this song says:

Verse:
I know you are the son
You are the Lamb
And You are the Christ
I know you are the LORD
God almighty
And king of kings
Chorus:
And I worship (or adore) you
I worship you
I worship you, Jesus
Bridge:
You are the first and the last
Alpha and Omega
Lion of Judah
No other

This reminded me of the church in Acts and early Christianity.  Churches then were small, and they met in homes.  Today, a lot of people think you have to have a huge nice church building to have church (there is nothing wrong with a big nice church building); however, you can have church no matter where you are.  The Bible says that where two or more are gathered, God will be there (Matthew 18:20).
The second woman taught me the most important thing I learned all week.  It is something I want to bring home with me and never forget.  When we walked in her home, she said, “I am ready to receive the gift that God has sent you to give to me.”  Now obviously she said it in creole, but our translator said that she was talking about prayer.  This old woman, who wasn’t even healthy enough to go to church and who lived in a small concrete house with no air condition (and Haiti is HOT) and a lot of other people, referred to prayer as a gift. A GIFT.  I think every Christian in America can learn from this sweet old lady.  The church as a whole in America tends to take prayer for granted.  We pray before our meals, we pray when we wake up and before we go to bed, and we pray when someone asks us to pray for them…IF THAT.  This woman talked about how she always had to pray by herself.  She was so excited that she got to have a group of people to pray with her now.  Prayer is a gift.  Before Jesus, you had to have a mediator to talk to God.  You had to go to a priest, but Jesus came as our mediator, lived a perfect life, died, and rose again.  Now, we have direct access to the creator of the world.  We have direct access to the most powerful being.  This is not something to take lightly or for granted.  We can talk to God.  HOW AWESOME IS THAT. Prayer is a gift, and that is something I hope never to forget.

The feeding program opened my eyes.  The kids would all line up super early. The food and water was free; all they had to do was bring a spoon with them to eat.  Our job was to pass out the bowls of food and cups of water. (By the way…all the cups were Mississippi State cups, so you know…. HAIL STATE…even in Haiti).  It was such a humbling experience.  The older kids would not take the food until all the younger kids had food.  When the younger kids got done eating, the older kids would pour the rest of their food into the younger kids bowl because they knew they were still hungry.  The kids were so selfless and always looked out for each other.  One day, a little girl lost her spoon and was bawling.  She did not want to go home without her spoon because she knew she would get a spanking.  Spoons.  Spoons are something we take for granted in America, but sometimes, there are families across the world that only have one spoon for their whole household.  That spoon is special to them, and they cannot take it for granted or lose it (“live simply so others can simply live”).  We have wayyyy too much while others have wayyyy to little.  What are you going to do about it?  I challenge you to answer this question without the answer being “nothing.”

The women’s ministry was special because we had discussion questions after each story.  This allowed us to hear and learn from them just as much as they were hearing and learning from us.  It is crazy to think that at the same time: we are so different, but we are so much alike.  The Good Samaritan: It is hard to stop for the helpless on the side of the road because we are busy.  We don’t have time.  They don’t look like us.  We think someone else will do it.  Sometimes we don’t pursue the lost like we should or celebrate as much as we should when someone is found.  This is what the Haitians said, and it is what we in America think as well.  People in Haiti struggle with the same things as we do in America (1 Corinthians 10:13).  You are not the only one going through whatever you are going through.  You are not alone, and God’s church is full of people ALL OVER THE WORLD praying for each other to stay strong.  We might have the same struggles as other believers all over the world, but we also have the same God who will give us a way out.

I had a blast and Haiti, and I cannot wait to go back.  Thank you for listening to my story. Love, Lacey Higgins

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God handpicked all of us that went on this trip together, and it would not have been possible with the rest of my team.  I asked them all to summarize their experience in one sentence and this is what they wanted to share with you: 

Muriel Collins:  Haiti is the ultimate example of how God’s grace is sufficient to all.

Kayla Shelby: When we follow His call to go, He shows us how unconditional His love is and how much He cares for His people.

Melanie McCoy (my awesome friend who got the trip together): Being the body of Christ and serving and worshiping with fellow believers give a tiny glimpse at what Heaven will be like.

Katie Callaway: While in Haiti, I experienced the ultimate richness of God’s love.

Katie Anne Collins: God loves and cares for His people, and the people of Haiti demonstrate God’s love and sufficiency everyday of their lives.

Leah Bowlin: “Look around you; see already your presence alone is dispelling the darkness.” –Sister Mona

Madison Burgess:  Haiti filled my heart with abounding love and peace as I learned that God is sufficient enough to supply everything I need and more.

Mary Heath: God is sufficient, whether in times of celebration or storm.

Bailey Herbert:  The love of god is so alive and moving, and Haiti is no exception; Worshiping and serving with the church there blessed my soul in more ways than I could count.

Jessica Bacon: God is good all the time.

Brittney Burgess:  Haiti is a place that showed me what it means to say that our joy and worship are not based on our circumstances.

Brenda McCoy (one of our wonderful chaperones): Our great God calls each of us to go and when we are obedient to Him, He will use us and stretch us and grow us more than we could ever imagine for His glory.

Katie Breland: Visiting Haiti was life changing, and I realized we are all one by Christ no matter the differences.

Mrs. Donna (our other amazing chaperone):  We are truly one in the Spirit.

 

 

 

In The Life of a Zebra Unicorn Part 1

Becky Corbitt married her best friend from high school, Gary and they have one awesome son together, Jacob. They live in San Antonio and enjoy music, football, and everything Texas A&M. Becky serves in the body of Christ in multiple ministries including VBS, MOPs and Awana. 

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In the medical field, you are told to not go looking for zebras. If it looks like a horse and walks like a horse, it’s a horse. This means that if it looks like the flu, don’t go looking for some rare disease. Most people who show up to the doctor have a normal, run of the mill problem. A unicorn is a mythical animal that people search for their whole lives, but never find. It’s the rarest of the rare. I am a zebra unicorn…

My mother became a Christian after my siblings were both born. Several years later, she felt that God was calling her and my father to have another child. During her pregnancy with me, my mom says that she knew that I was going to be special. That God had a purpose for my life. Never could she have imagined the ways that I would touch other’s lives. I know she wouldn’t have prayed for me to suffer. I know that she feels guilty in some way, like it has been her fault. You see, I have become an inspiration of sorts to others because of the hardships I have had to face and medical problems I have endured along the way. Some say I do it with a smile, but I know that God has carried me through and it has not been of my own strength.

If you had asked me when I was a child if I was special, I would have said “Of course!!” I never would have understood just how special at the time. I was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck. No one knows how long I was without oxygen. My head looked like a dark, purple grape. My siblings always said that this is what lead to me being an airhead. I think it was just the beginning of a long road of overcoming obstacles.

I broke my first bone at the age of 6. I was riding a bike with my brother and friend, when I got sandwiched in between. One of their pedals got stuck in my front wheel and I was thrown over my handlebars. This was the first time I had to be put under anesthesia. When I awoke, the nurse was about to pull the IV out of my arm. The tape got stuck to her gloves as she proceeded to accidentally rip out the line. My blood started spurting and soaking through both pillows under my arm. This started my fear and total hatred of needles. Later, I would have to have nurses hold me down when they gave me shots. Again, I had no idea what was to come. Needles would become my enemy and my best friend at the same time. I had several more broken bones while I was growing up, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I had mono in high school, braces, glasses, etc.  All of the normal growing up problems.

The only abnormal thing I went through, that others knew about, was having knee surgery my senior year. The ligament that attached my knee cap to my knee had grown on the side of my tibia instead of the top. However, this was caused by a soccer injury when I was younger. I played competitive soccer from an early age and dreamed of the Olympics. Running was always hard for me and I felt like throwing up if I got over heated. I was always a little heavier than my friends, so I just assumed I was out of shape. Looking back, I worked out like crazy, but cardio and aerobics never got easier. I would crave spoonfuls of sugar (not to help the medicine go down) and felt hungry ALL of the time. I wouldn’t discover until I was 33, why this was such a problem.

Those closest to me thought my weight was caused by being molested as a young child. It had gone on for several years until my mom discovered what was going on by catching me in her closet with my molester. I had never told anyone what was going on, because I thought it was partly my fault. I had another friend that was going through the same thing, so maybe it was normal? Who knows what a small girl is thinking when someone who is older, who she cares for, tells her she will get in trouble if she told anyone. I know I was scared, but I never felt that this event affected my eating. I was told that eating was my coping mechanism. I knew eating made me feel better, but not emotionally. It made me feel physically better, because the “hunger pains” would go away.  I don’t want to gloss over what happened. It was traumatic and plagued my thoughts for most of my life. I was angry and hurt. Why did it have to happen to me? I would regularly lash out and say hurtful things to those around me. I have since forgiven this person. There was so much more to the story than even I knew at the time. They had their own problems that they were going through. This does not make it right, but it allows me to understand that the actions didn’t come out of hate for me. I love this person dearly to this day. God has given me the strength to forgive and have grace on them.

My elementary and middle school years were marred by others making fun of my weight. Even those on my soccer team made fun of me. It didn’t matter how good I was, my weight made me different. By high school, I had grown shapely. I matured early, especially in the chest. Low self-esteem made me wear sports bras and cover my body with clothing that was too big. I never saw myself as a normal weight. I compared myself to those on my soccer team or my teeny tiny close friends. They could be a size 2 or 4, which made my size 8/10 self feel HUGE! Looking back, I was a stunner. If I had worn clothes that fit my body, I would have been in trouble. Hindsight is 20/20 and man do I wish I had the body I had back then. My full chest came at a price, though. I started lactating at the age of 16. Again, I didn’t know if this was normal and I was too embarrassed to ask. It was tough figuring out how to deal with wet spots on my bras and covering up problem areas during school. I would suffer through high school wondering what was wrong with me. This just further sent me down the low self-esteem tunnel. On the outside, no one was the wiser.

 

Jami the Brave

Jami Amerine is a wife, and mother to anywhere from 6-8 children. Jami and her husband Justin are active foster parents and advocates for foster care and adoption. Jami’s Sacred Ground Sticky Floors is fun, inspirational, and filled with utter lunacy with a dash of hope. Jami holds a degree in Family and Consumer Sciences (yes Home Ec.) and can cook you just about anything, but don’t ask her to sew. She also holds a Master’s Degree in Education, Counseling, and Human Development. Her blog includes topics on marriage, children, babies, toddlers, learning disabilities, tweens, teens, college kids, adoption, foster care, Jesus, homeschooling, unschooling, dieting, not dieting, dieting again, chronic illness, stupid people, food allergies, and all things real life. You can find her blog at http://sacredgroundstickyfloors.com/or follow her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/sacredgrounds.stickyfloors/ or Twitter at https://twitter.com/jamijo777

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This has not ever been my title.  I am a scaredy-cat.  I am a natural born wimp.  I am afraid of a million and one things.  At the top of the list is the loss of a child.  Mid way through the list are spiders.  And I am terrified of flying.

Although, I am not afraid of dying… I feel eager to meet with my Lord.  No, I am afraid of flying.  Tight spaces, falling, crashing – I am afraid of being afraid.   

And I have reserved brave for single moms, widows, and momma’s burying their babies.  I have set it apart for heroes, service men and women, and cancer fighters.  Because, I am never, ever brave.  

I used to be afraid of a broken heart.  Despite the Lord’s calling on our hearts to foster, I was terrified. I couldn’t fathom loving a child for months at a time and then losing them.  And then, we stepped out on faith, which I also didn’t recognize as brave. Our hearts have been broken, and we have loved deeply, and walked hand in hand with our Christ.  Again, I never counted it brave?

And in March of this year I will celebrate an anniversary where I overcame a fear and was richly blessed.  As I have prayed over what to say about the brave acts I have performed – there were not many to choose from. I considered how far the Lord has brought me over my years.  I used to lie on my son’s bed and heave prayers begging God to protect him.  He is joining the Navy in the Spring.  I am proud of him. I trust God with him.  I count him among the brave.

But it was just last year I dug my heels in deeply.  I stood firm in the place I would not go. I said “NO.” And I said it without hesitation, and without swaying.  And as two women stood before me in my cabin at Mt. Hermon Christian Writers Conference and explained to me that it was time to start a blog and pursue publishing my manuscript I adamantly refused.  

“No.” was my stubborn response.

“You must.”

“No.”

“What are you afraid of?”

Ah ha! What am I afraid of?  Rejection? Criticism? Hatefulness? Judgement? Being wrong?  Or worse, being right?  

“Yes, all of those things.”  

These are the very things I feared the most about writing and publicizing my thoughts.  How much more personal, other than nude selfies, could I get than to put my words out into cyberspace?  How arrogant would I have to be to believe anyone would even care what I had to say?  How crazy would I have to be to allow strangers to comment on what I said – how would I sleep at night?  And my friend’s response?

“But it isn’t about you.”

And I was left to ponder.  If my head were on the chopping block and the blade was about to drop, and the executioner said, “Do you believe in Jesus Christ?” I would say, “YES!”

And why is that? Because this life is not my own. I came to serve, not to be served.  And if I have a voice, what would I dare cry out?  

I would cry out, “Jesus is Lord!”

And in many instances, that requires bravery.  Actually, in most instances, that requires bravery.  And Jesus makes me want to be brave.  

So on wobbly legs I posted short blogs.  I am embarrassed by the first few, but I leave them up.  If only I read them, I can mark the days when I was most in tune with my Jesus.  And, I can see the days I was far from Him and lost.  

Sure, I could just journal, and rant to myself… Why don’t I just do that?  And my meager audience that I think included my mom, dad, sister, brother, sister-in-law, and a few friends were loyal fans.  My sons and husband?  Dyslexic as they are, they are still waiting for it to come out on audio.  And I was fine with my cozy following.  I spoke boldly, knowing exactly who was listening and fully confident I would not rock anyone’s boat.  

But on my 44th birthday, after a 6-week reprieve from my tiny blog, I wrote, “An open letter to my children: You’re not that great.”  And all my fears came in like a roaring lion.  

I posted it on my phone. I didn’t even spell check it. It was basically a rant.  I didn’t expect to see more than the 40 likes I normally saw. When it hit 4,000 just 7 hours after it went up – I became concerned.  An hour later, at 11,000 I went in the bathroom and threw up. My family abuzz with the thrill and me curious and horrified. By midnight on the first night I shut off my phone at 32,000 views and cried myself to sleep.  

There were Grammatical errors and two misspelled words.  I had sounded harsh; I had sounded arrogant.  I wanted a do over.  By bedtime the next night, I had a contract with an agent and the day two count was a quarter of a million hits. I calmed down a bit, this was a little exciting!  And then, I started to read the comments.  

And I went and threw up again.  

A death threat?  A woman calling me an “Anti-Christ cow?” The Grammar police, the livid, the frenzied?  Over my little tiny blog section?  And fear was all I could focus my thoughts.  I wasn’t famous?  I was a laughing stock!  

Why did I ever agree to this?  And now – An agent?  What else would I ever write about?  This piece was a fluke? I was a joke, and a fraud?  I had been right to put my foot down and refuse to write a blog.

I was humiliated and exhausted.  

On the third day, I got an email from an elderly retired English professor and he said:

“I am slain by your words to your children. I have seen a lot of families destroyed over the years by the backwards thinking of putting ourselves before others. You should know, I do not believe in God, and I have always believed that Jesus was a fairytale. This short essay has stirred something in my heart that I must pursue.  The idea of Christians truly wanting to be last has never occurred to me.  Thank you.”  

And I was brave.  

Just one.  Not hundreds, not thousands, not tens of thousands… but one.  

And I was humbled to the point of weeping. That my flippant and ridiculous blog meant something, to just one.  And I may never know what became of the stirring in his heart, and I don’t presume that I somehow did him a favor, because I constantly remember – It’s not about me.  

And there have been other letters, and plenty of criticisms. And I have been lead to blogs through my experience where I have been touched or inspired and learned.  I have “met” new friends from far and wide. And I have been richly blessed by the ride.  But, it’s not about me.  

It is about Him who is in me.  My Jesus. And the things I have overcome, the terrors and the infinitesimal worries. These nightmares, overcome not because of who I am, but because of who He is.  

And this is exciting!

This means that when we are called out to do that which is scary, if it is to bring Him even one, and that one professes “Glory!” Then praise be to God!  I needn’t worry.  I needn’t dread or fret. For when I am weak and unsure, if He so chooses, He will make my small feats of bravery reach 186 countries in 72 hours.  The majesty of this is not lost on me, my small muscles, and erratic thoughts.

In that instance I count myself, brave.

If you profess His name, if you are among those who can answer, “He is the Christ for whom we have waited!” You too are counted among -brave.  

And nothing can stop us.  

“And He continued by questioning them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered and said to Him, ‘You are the Christ.’” Mark 8:29

May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained.  Love, Jami

 

Bravely Schooling

 

My name is Jennifer.  I am the wife of Bryan who retired from the Army after serving 23 years.  I am the mother of a beautiful 17 year old daughter who is a senior in high school and has been accepted to Texas Tech for the fall of 2016 to study to become a physical therapist.  I have a talented 13 year old son who is already an excellent chef and loves listening to the Beatles and Paul Simon.  I am also blessed with twin boys who are 9 that are as different as night and day.  One is very outgoing and loves puppies and makes people smile with his boisterous take on life.  The other is quiet and very focused, he hears EVERYTHING and is always learning.

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Being Brave.  I don’t think of myself as brave.  Writing this definitely qualifies for me. First off, I am very lucky my parents introduced God to me as the ideal parent-one that is full of love, kindness, compassion and that wants the best for me.  He wants me to make good choices, but allows me the freedom to go down a path that He would rather I not go down and then is there for me when I am stumbling and ask for help-He helps me find my footing and get back on a path.

With that being said I am one of the many who come from a broken home.  For a while as a child I thought that God was punishing me for being selfish and being so focused on material things that when I got the preemie cabbage patch doll for my 10th birthday and  found out that my parents were divorcing I thought that my focus on the doll that I wanted cost me my parents.  Needless to say I struggled while my parents had a very bitter divorce that left me wondering if I was the least bit lovable.  After all, if I was half of each of them and they hated each other so much how could they ever love me.  This brings me to where I began to be brave.

I have had a long journey and God has been there with me from being a 20 year old single mom, to marrying a soldier and much more.  I am going to share with you a little bet about this journey and how God has worked through me and helped me be brave several times.

When I was 20 years old I found myself pregnant and chose to become a mom.  As I drove to work the song Unanswered Prayers by Garth Brooks came on the radio and I realized that God was giving me a chance to see Him answer a prayer, not the way I was expecting, but in another way if I was willing to let Him work through me.  I had been praying for someone to love unconditionally for years.  Here I was pregnant.  Children are a lot of work, but I saw this pregnancy as a gift-a chance to step onto a new path.  So I stepped out in faith and became a mom.  I did not marry my daughters father-I had grown up in a house where my parents hated each other and I wanted my child to grow up knowing she was loved and wanted.  Her biological was not ready to be a dad and said so, so we amicably parted ways and to this day-soon to be 18 years this March I have no regrets with that choice.  I hold no ill will towards him and she knows of him and that he wanted the best for her.  To be loved and have a family that loved her.  Talk about being surrounded by God!  He blessed me so beautifully by opening a door to allow me to see something differently.

My life changed a lot in March of 1998.  I accepted that God loved me and wanted me.  I then saw that I was going to need to be a mom that focused on my child.  I was not going to look for a man in my life, just be the best mom I could be.  Well after much convincing some friends convinced me that I could be a great mom and still go out with friends sometimes.  In August of 1999 I met my husband out at a dance club when I went out with some friends.   I was a preschool teacher and only out to spend some time with my girlfriends.  My now husband asked me to dance and I turned him down.  I thought that I did not deserve to have any one else in my life since I was a mom and had committed myself to being a mom and staying on the path that I thought I was supposed to be on.  For some reason my husband came back and asked me to dance again.  As you may guess I said yes.  Talk about scary.  I was sure that I was going to be single until my daughter turned 18, but that was not the case.  Bryan was in the Army-super new territory for me-I had no clue about the military at all!  We married in November of 2000 and I found myself learning to trust in God a little more.  We moved to Fort Huachuca and had a son.  God was slowly pushing me out of my comfort zones more and more.  He was there as I learned how to be an army wife and lean on people outside of my family.  In 2004 He was there in the form of human angels who helped me when we lost a baby while Bryan was in Korea.  They took care of my kids and sat with me while I lost that little one.

When Bryan returned from Korea we moved to San Antonio and found surprise surprise we were expecting twins!  I had a really hard time trusting and struggled with my faith while I was pregnant.  I was once again in a new city and expecting.  I knew no one and after the loss the year before I was just scared.  Those first two years here were hard.  I had not connected into the community and called my friends out of state all the time crying and praying that God would help me stop hurting.  This prayer was answered when I called my friend one day and she had just gone with another friend who was speaking to a MOPS group in Colorado Springs.  She said they would pay for me to go to MOPS.  I would love it.  We hung up and I looked up MOPS, I found a group near me and called to see about going-it was mid April and the year was almost over for them.  I cried when I hung up the phone with that groups coordinator.  They did not have room for me since I had twin 1 year olds.  Too many kids and not enough space.  I hurt so badly at that time.  I needed a community and this had sounded perfect.  Luckily my neighbor’s husband was on staff there and heard about me and helped me get signed up for the next year.  I went and knew that I was supposed to be in a group, but just still felt like I was missing something there-most of my table was missing each week , so I kind of still felt alone, but I could almost hear God telling me “keep going, you need this”.  When that group did not renew next year I called one of the other wives from my husbands unit.  I remembered her talking about her group.  I joined her group and my heart felt so full after the first few meetings!  I knew I was where I was supposed to be again.

Well since God was pushing me and pulling me to grow I ended up stepping up into the leadership in that group.  I helped put together their big fundraiser and being on leadership meant getting to go to the MOPS convention.  That one I said yes to not for the sake of God, but because it was in Florida and meant 3 days with other women and no kids!  Wow!  A vacation for ME?  I went and once again God found a way to work through me.  Throughout the convention I heard them talk about “No Mom Alone” and how we are meant to be with others and help God work in us and around us!  I cried most of that weekend.  I came home with a love for MOPS and a desire to be more involved.  I stayed in leadership and ended up sharing my testimony the next year.  The next convention God put a conviction in my heart to step up and help other women by joining the MOPS leadership as a coach.  To this day He amazes me when He calls me to step more and more out of my comfort zone.  

I am now the proud wife of an amazing man who shows me how precious I am to him.  I am also the mom of a beautiful high school senior who makes me so happy.  I am also homeschooling my 13 year old son and my twin 9 year old sons.  I always said I would never homeschool and then God softened my heart and opened doors that have been amazing.  God will open doors for you and hold your hand if you let Him.

I loved the break that I got when they went to school each day.  Then in February of 2013 something changed.  I was finding myself very stressed and upset that my youngest son was struggling and just not getting it at school.  We were spending 2-3 hours on homework and not seeing any improvements.  I decided over spring break to see how it would be if we tried homeschooling.  I pulled out the books I had from friends who homeschooled and we spent the week working on spelling, reading and math.  It was great. By the end of the week my son who would struggle with reading, writing and spelling was sitting and reading a book willingly.

So I prayed.  I had never wanted to homeschool at all.  It was not me!  I loved my time on my own.  Time to cook, clean and more without all 3 boys running around the house and my daughter at the high school.  I began to talk with friends and door after door opened.  A friend suggested I go see the homeschool program her friend used.  I loved it.  It was just what I was looking for.  I found a MOPS group that could accommodate me with homeschooling kids and I pulled them from public school at the end of the 2012-2013 school year.  In all of this, I continued to struggle and have had to truly lean in on God.  My husband’s job in San Antonio lost its funding and he had to move to Maryland at the beginning of our homeschool journey.  He has been in Maryland since October of 2013 and the job was finally funded there for an extended time.  We have had a lot of bumps along the way.  We are now getting comfortable with the homeschooling.   My 13 year old asked to be homeschooled when we began this journey and is thriving with the change.  The twins are doing great too.  My son who was truly struggling is going for Memory Master which is where they will quiz him on information from Latin, Timeline, History, English, Math, Science and Geography from the 24 weeks of school.  My son who had no confidence and struggled day in and day out with feeling stupid is now going for this!  I have found that handing this over to God and letting him lead has been amazing.  I am so lucky that He has blessed our family with this journey and am looking forward to seeing what the next year holds for our family.

Bravely Fertile

My name is Julie Hurtle.  I am married to an amazing man who happens to be in the military.  We have two beautiful children with a third one on the way.  We currently reside in Texas but have been told we will be moving again in the very near future.  My desire is to glorify God in everything I do, and He continues to show me that it’s by His grace alone I’m ever able to do that.  His grace is sufficient; His power is made perfect in our weakness; His mercies truly are new every morning; and He is faithful to forgive us as we confess our sins to Him.

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A Google search provided the following definition of the word “brave.”

Brave– (adjective) Ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage. (verb) Endure or face (unpleasant conditions or behavior) without showing fear.

 

When asked to share a story of when God called me to be brave, three big moments in my life came to mind.  After reading the definition of bravery, I can say that I wasn’t “ready” to face and endure those moments, and I certainly didn’t feel courageous or without fear.  As an Army wife, I have faced two very long deployments without fear, and I was “ready” to face them. I moved to South Korea a week before my husband was scheduled to arrive to start my first full-time teaching job so I could live in Korea with my husband since the Army wasn’t sending me with him.  I had no guarantee they wouldn’t change his orders after I got there and send him somewhere else.  I had never been anywhere overseas.  I had never met the people who hired me.  But I went.  I was “ready” for whatever would come and I had no fear.  We’ve moved six times in our marriage and my husband has changed his career in the Army three times.  It all fits the definition of being brave, but in all of this I didn’t feel particularly brave.  I had signed up for things like that when I married my husband.  It’s all just part of the package deal.

But somehow, when God steps into the seemingly smooth-running plans in my life and changes things in ways I’m unprepared for, that’s when I feel the real opportunities for bravery arise.  Not so much the Google definition of bravery, but the kind of bravery that requires a person to set aside their fear in faith.  The bravery that says, “I’m not ready for this, I don’t think I can endure this, I am afraid, but God, you are not surprised by this.  You, God, are bigger than this.  You have a plan, you are good, you are faithful, and you will be my strength.”  So, while the world often hails me as brave for the things I face as the wife of a soldier, the real “brave stories” of my life have nothing to do with being a military spouse.

I grew up having one dream for my life.  I wanted to be a mom.  Being a mom, in my estimation, required having a husband, so that was a side goal to be met along the way.  I went to college to find a husband, not to get a degree.  (God knew this, so he made me wait to “find” my husband until after I graduated college.)  I was drawn to guys that were drawn to women that fit the description of everything I wanted to be but wasn’t (perfect hair, perfect make-up, perfect clothes, always on time, incredibly popular, successful in whatever they pursued, driven to succeed…basically the type of woman that seems to have it all together).  And one day, one of those guys actually gave me a second glance and we started dating.  We dated a couple of months and he said things that led me to believe he was thinking “marriage” in his pursuit of me.  The relationship ended suddenly and I did NOT handle it well.  Not only did it hit me so hard that I have blocked out entire chunks of time in my memory of that relationship, but I spent close to three years in anger toward God for bringing that guy into my life, getting my hopes up, and then ripping him away from me without any real explanation or closure.  I didn’t turn away from God, but I made sure to give Him the coldest cold shoulder when it came to sharing the depths of my heart with Him.  I still went to church, still prayed for others, and was still actively serving in ministries.  But I was deeply wounded and angry that He wasn’t giving me what I wanted.  

In the midst of my anger, God brought unlikely friends into my life.  People that I would have never been drawn to were proving to be the most faithful, unassuming, non-judgmental friends a girl could ever hope to find.  Several of those friends were godly young men.  And one of those godly young men has been my husband for almost fourteen years.  God used the failed relationship with its dashed dreams, the genuine love of devoted friends, and the relentless pursuit by this godly young man to reveal to me that I was trying to become someone He hadn’t made me to be.  To show me that I hoped if I could snag a guy typically drawn to a perfectly has-it-all-together woman, then I would be able to transform into that type of woman by dating and marrying a guy that wanted a woman like that.  I eventually realized that the godly young man I kept shooting down brought out the best that was already in me.  That the parts of my personality and character that I wanted to change actually shone brightly and beautifully when I was with him.  I liked who I was when I was with him and I actually felt like a better version of myself when we were together.  Our litmus test was: Do we glorify God better together than we do apart?  And the answer was, “Yes!”  Finally acknowledging I had feelings for him and being willing to date him with the understanding that we were moving toward marriage was one of the most terrifying things I had ever done.  But it was also one of the bravest things I ever did.

Fast forward roughly three years to our second year of marriage. Remember how my one big goal for my life was being a mom?  In our second year of marriage, we felt led to stop any attempts at preventing pregnancy.  I wasn’t “ready” yet to be a mom, but this was heavily laid on my heart and, after much prayer, my husband also felt the same conviction.  I just thought taking that step was bravery.  I had no idea in that moment that God was about to take us on a journey through infertility that would span close to a decade.  After six months of not preventing pregnancy, having only ever used a barrier method, we began to realize that something was probably wrong.  Still, I wasn’t ready to be a mom just yet.  We were living in Korea and I had a stressful teaching job, so we decided to just enjoy our freedom and not worry about it.  But then I noticed that God was introducing us to people that were struggling with infertility AND to people that had anywhere from five to eight children.  And I am ashamed to admit that I was drawn to the people with the big families because that was my goal, to have a big family, and I was avoiding the people that were infertile because my 26 years on the earth at that time had taught me that God usually brings people into my life that have been through something he’s about to bring me through.  That whole, “He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God,“ thing that He does (2 Cor. 1:4).  And I wanted no part of it.  I wanted friends with big families that were as fertile as the day is long, and I wanted no part of facing the possibility that God might just not have planned for me to be a mom.  I had always said that I wanted as many children as God chose to give me.  I had never considered the possibility that the number might be zero.

We moved back to the United States and did the military life thing.  My husband deployed for 15 months and returned safely.  All the while, my desire to be a mom grew more intense.  I watched my sisters have children and I ached to have my own.  I was happy for them and for my friends who were having babies, but I was grieving with each announcement of pregnancy.  I stopped being able to hold other peoples’ babies.  I endured as many baby showers as I could emotionally handle and declined (or conveniently forgot) many others.  Once, when my husband and I were going to see a movie, the girl taking the ticket stubs was in a wheel chair.  And I noticed that she was staring at my legs.  As we walked away I said to my husband, “Did you see the way she was looking at my legs?  She had the same look on her face that I have on mine when I see pregnant women’s bellies.”  Each month, each and every month, I was reminded that my body, or my husband’s, was broken.  That once again we had failed to reproduce.  At the beginning of each cycle we would have hope that maybe this month we would get pregnant.  And at the end of each cycle we would grieve.  Sometimes we would grieve together and sometimes separately.  

While we were very much facing the same issue, our journeys through it were unique.  Men facing infertility are sometimes at a loss as to how to comfort their wives in the midst of it because the experience for them is so very different.  There was one point where my husband would frequently say to friends that he would be willing to adopt in a heartbeat but that I just wasn’t there yet.  I had to tell him more than once how painful it was for me to hear him say that.  I felt like the “bad guy” because I wasn’t in a place where I felt called to adopt.  I tried to explain to him that part of what I longed for was the experience of being pregnant.  He tried to understand, but it just didn’t make sense to him.  In his mind, the experience of being a dad wouldn’t be any different whether we adopted or I carried the child inside of me for nine months.  Then one day, he came home from his labor and delivery rotation in PA school and gave me a huge hug with tears in his eyes and he said, “I’m sorry.  I understand now.”  I was completely confused and asked what it was all about.  That day he had observed for the first time a woman give birth.  He explained that while she was pushing, she had a look of anguish and intensity on her face, but the moment they placed the baby in her arms, her face changed and she had the most beautiful look of love and joy as she held her baby.  He said, “I want that for you.  I want to see that look on your face.”  After that, the only time he ever mentioned adoption was when we were discussing between the two of us whether God was calling us to pursue that or not.

Years passed and God grew us through it all.  There were very low lows along the way, but for the most part our lives seemed normal.  There were odd things, like we kept joining the young marrieds classes at our new churches when we moved because everyone our age already had several children and we just didn’t seem to have a ton in common with them.  At about year six, I remember telling another friend of mine who was also walking through infertility that I suddenly realized that God had me “here, in this place, for a reason, and I want to do whatever He’s put me in this place to do.”  It was then that God turned my heart from one of needing others to minister to me on that road, to having a desire to minister to others.  Eventually, my husband and I were ministering to many couples facing infertility at various points along the journey.  Embracing our infertility, being “okay” with where God had me even though it wasn’t at all what I would have chosen for my life, and being willing to serve others facing the same thing was brave for me.  It was as if I was saying to God, “Okay, God.  If the number of children you have planned for me is zero, then that’s okay.  If you never call me to adopt, if you never make me pregnant, I will still praise you and I will still serve you, and I will still trust that you are good.”  That was HUGE for me.  The interesting thing to me in all of it is that I don’t ever remember being mad at God, even though I knew full well that He is the one who opens and closes the womb.  And even though I knew He was big enough to handle me being angry.  But because He had brought me through those three years of anger over a silly relationship, I didn’t have to go down that road with Him again.  And I’m so thankful.  Because I needed Him every single step of that journey.

There came a day, before my husband’s second deployment, that both of us, for the first time, were on the same page about a particular fertility treatment known as IVF (InVitro Fertilization).  That’s where healthy eggs are taken from the woman’s body and put in a petrie dish with the man’s sperm.  If the egg becomes fertilized and an embryo continues to grow then it’s transferred to the woman’s body with the expectation that it will implant and pregnancy will result.  (Fun fact: While the couple waits to see if the embryo implanted and they have a viable pregnancy, they are considered to be PUPO, which stands for Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise.)  There had been times along the way that one or the other of us would bring up IVF, but always one of us wasn’t ready for that.  But this time, we had both been thinking and praying about it without yet mentioning it to the other for the same number of days and we both approached each other at the same time to discuss it.  We took that as a green light from God and we moved forward with it.  That whole experience is a story in itself.  The short version is that our IVF failed, but we had one frozen embryo.  The transfer of that beautiful frozen embryo resulted in pregnancy and eventually the birth of our beautiful daughter, Eleanor.

My dream had come true.  I was a mom.  It was a long road getting there, but there I was.  My husband and I discussed whether or not we were going to do IVF again and we ruled it out for a number of reasons.  We discussed adoption and that still wasn’t something we felt called to do.  By the end of the discussion I told my husband, “Well, if God wants us to have more children, He’s either going to have to call us clearly to adoption or make me pregnant again.”  We laughed, content with our daughter and happy to have her as an only child.  I made many plans and started dreaming about the kind of mom I would be and the kind of relationship I would have with my daughter.  I planned out things like preschool and dance lessons, music lessons and fun day trips.  The sky was the limit if she was our only one and I was ready to take on this new role.  She was one of the most compliant children I had ever met and I told her every day that I loved getting to know her.  I was constantly amazed by her.

Then one day at church as I was praying for various people, I heard God whisper to my heart, “Do not be afraid.  Do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you.  I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”  I was confused as to why my life’s verse would be so strongly and clearly placed on my heart, so I continued praying and I heard/felt the same thing, and also the promise that He is with me.  I was so shaken by it that I started looking around the sanctuary for a potential gunman.  When my husband went to get our daughter from the nursery, I began to worry that maybe they wouldn’t come back.  I was afraid that God was going to take one or both of them away from me.  Through the entire service there was the drumbeat of God’s reminder that He is with me and would bring me through whatever I was about to face.  When I got in the car to go home, I shared it with my husband.  We prayed about it and I felt better, and eventually we were in our Sunday afternoon routine.  Later that day, my husband casually asked when my last period was.  I did the math and he suggested I take a pregnancy test.  I laughed about it because I had taken a gajillion spontaneous pregnancy tests (not related to fertility treatments) and every single solitary one of them had been negative.  But I went through our ritual where I pee on the stick and wait the allotted time then let my husband read it and tell me the result.  When he acted weird I realized this time it was positive.  Sure enough, it was.  So I took more tests to confirm and we were pregnant.  And I was devastated.

Yes.  You read that right.  I was devastated.  I had a ministry, a blog, a twitter following of hundreds of infertile people, all based on the fact that I was infertile.  Yet, here I was, pregnant.  No treatments, no doctors, simply pregnant.  In the infertile community (and yes, there’s an entire online community of infertile people sharing their pain), there are several things that are complained about and even more things that simply aren’t tolerated.  One of the biggest complaints is about fertile people giving their wisdom and insight to infertile people in an attempt to give them hope (but in actuality it’s to make the fertile person feel better and more comfortable in the conversation because it truly is an uncomfortable topic).  It may be something like this: “Oh!  Have you considered adoption?  I have a friend whose cousin’s uncle adopted a baby and then his wife got pregnant!” Or this: “I’ve known so many people that couldn’t get pregnant because they were so stressed out, but once they stopped trying to get pregnant and stopped thinking about it, the next month they found out they were pregnant!”  But the one that was plaguing my mind as the “pregnant” sign was so clear on the digital test was this one: “I’ve heard that once you get pregnant from fertility treatments that your body suddenly knows what to do and you can get pregnant naturally after that any time you want!  I have a friend who did IVF and then they got pregnant twice after that on their own!”  And the thing that is absolutely not tolerated in the online infertility community is any person who starts out as infertile, gets pregnant with help, and then gets pregnant naturally.  They suddenly lose their status of “infertile” in the infertile community.  People get angry and they don’t want to hear anything you have to say.  As if all the years of infertility that you endured are suddenly negated.

It wasn’t easy for me to admit, and it took a long while for me to do so without pride and without justifying the way I felt about it, but my entire identity and significance was wrapped up in my being infertile.  Think back to what I mentioned in the last paragraph: I had a ministry.  I had a blog.  I had a following.  I was as famous as I was ever going to get and I was being effective and successful at something that was important to me.  I see a lot of “I’s” and “me’s” in that.  And God was essentially stripping all of that away with one true word: “Pregnant.”  And then it hit me that all of the dreams I had of what my life with Eleanor would look like would most likely never become reality.  There’s no way we would have the money now with two kids.  And I certainly wouldn’t have the time.  

I felt guilty.  I felt guilty for no longer being infertile.  I felt guilty for not being thrilled that I was pregnant.  I felt guilty a few days later when fatigue and morning sickness set in and I let Eleanor watch hours upon hours of television so I could lay on the couch all day, barely able to move or even provide food for her.  I felt guilty that I would never be able to invest in her the way I wanted to because of her having a sibling.  I felt guilty that I even had that thought.  Then when depression set in for the duration of the pregnancy, I felt guilty that the baby inside of me could feel it.  I felt guilty that I was even depressed.  I felt guilty that even though God had warned me ahead of time and promised that he would be with me that I wasn’t letting Him be enough.

But I endured.  To the majority of the world, I was without fear.  Only my husband and closest friends knew the truth about how I felt.  We discovered shortly after I learned I was pregnant that some herbs I was taking to balance hormones after some complications from Eleanor’s birth were what caused my body to be normal enough to get pregnant without medical intervention.  That made it a little easier to swallow.  We welcomed Henry into our family just two weeks before his sister Eleanor turned two.  His delivery and birth were very healing to my soul and to my body (Eleanor’s birth had been quite traumatic).  Eleanor walked into our bedroom just hours after he was born, having slept through the entire thing, and immediately (it was like a visible switch was flipped that I could see in her eyes), immediately she went from being the most compliant child to one of the most competitive, willful children I have ever met.

No one expects “motherhood” to be the subject of a time when God called a person to be brave.  Especially when that mother spent her entire life planning to be a mom and struggled for almost a decade to try to make that a reality.  But as I am now pregnant with our third child, due to be born the week between her brother’s second birthday and her sister’s fourth birthday, and I am once again dealing with depression in pregnancy (this time strictly because of hormones), God is calling me to be brave.  I lose my temper and yell way more than I feel is acceptable.  I see my failures more readily than my successes and I am fearful that I’m screwing things up with my kids on a regular basis.  But my kids aren’t accidents.  This road God has me on is exactly where He wants me to be.  I told my husband that we need to find a name for this third child that means refinement or sanctification because that’s exactly what God’s doing in me through this pregnancy.

In each of these stories where He has called me to be brave, what He is really calling me to do is trust Him.  He’s reminding me that He is sovereign, that He is good, and that He has a plan for me that is for my good and His glory.  The neat thing about it is that His plan for me involves people that I love dearly that I get to be with daily, and His plan for them involves me.  There are days lately where it takes courage for me to get out of bed, or not crawl back into it midday and pull the covers over my head in defeat.  There are days where I must endure the tantrums, the thousand “why’s” and “what did you say, Mama’s” and ask God to display the fruits of the Spirit in me in spite of the fact that I want to be the one having the tantrums at my kids (which I do sometimes).  It takes courage to look at my children’s behavior and let it be a mirror reflecting to me my own sinful attitudes and actions.  Were there days at the beginning of Henry’s life when I desperately longed for my daughter to be the compliant child she once was and I questioned God’s wisdom in giving her a sibling?  Yes, absolutely there were!  But He gently showed me that because of Henry, God is able to begin sanctifying her now in ways that may not have happened until college otherwise.  I would much rather my children face the realities of sin while I can speak into their lives readily than when they are at an age where they think they know more than I do and don’t want to listen.

I’ll leave you with these verses that were recently laid on my heart.

“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.” (Proverbs 16:9)

“‘Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself.  Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.’” (Matthew 6:34)

Bravely Trusting

Kristin is a Jesus-loving kind of gal who lives in San Antonio, Texas.  She and her husband have three children.  Food, family, football, and following Jesus are just a few of her favorite things.  Stop by her blog,  A Voice Calling Out,  to find out more!

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I wouldn’t call myself brave, that’s for sure.  On any given day, I feel the very opposite of brave.  Sometimes I feel stupid for instance, believing the lies of the enemy that I have not done the right thing, that I am not in God’s will and where God has called me to be.

Back in October of 2014, God left a distinct impression on me.  Sitting at a women’s event at church, eating a delicious, just out of the oven quiche, sided with fresh salsa and mini cranberry-orange scones, God whispered

start trying to get pregnant again
stay home from work next year
& study my word

My husband and I decided to pray about this.  Over the course of a few months we realized that yes, God was leading us to be a one-income family.  I was to stay home with our son and baby due in September.

In general, when God has called you to something you have a couple choices:

listen and obey
OR
run and ignore.

The first step we took was listening and obeying God’s call.  But the first step is not always the hardest one.  

It sure hasn’t been for us.

Since making this decision in early 2015, God faithfully gave us peace time and time again to stay the course.  Peace that we were in his will.  Peace that he would provide for us.  I of course thought of all the great, amazing ways God could provide for us.  I even gave him a list.  I mean, I didn’t really give him a list.  But I mapped out my family’s future as if God was carrying out my will, my desires, my plan.

SPOILER ALERT:  God doesn’t exactly live by your plans or expectations.

Month after month, my ideas of how God would provide would come and go.
Month after month, God would bring provision in his way, in his timing.
Month after month, I let go of more of my plan and opened my hands to receive his plan.

God has shown me how to let go of things I have held dear.  Things I haven’t physically held, but ideas, dreams, plans for my future.  Really, God has shown me that I have forsaken him as my first love, forsaken him for worldly dreams.

“Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world — the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life — is not of the Father but is of the world. And the world is passing away, and the lust of it; but he who does the will of God abides forever.” 1 John 2:15-17

I want to abide forever.  I want to let go of the lust of my flesh and let go of my love for the things of the world.  I want to let go of what I hold above Christ.  I want to be one who does the will of Christ.

The brave part about our journey thus far hasn’t been waiting for God to provide for us.  Believe me, it’s true, it is hard not knowing where provision will come from.  But the brave part has been daily choosing faith, choosing to stand on God’s promises instead of my own abilities, choosing to believe anew each day that God is faithful, choosing to be thankful, choosing to praise him in advance for his provision, choosing to side with Christ and his will, trusting I am in his will…even if it makes me look like a fool to the world.  That is my brave.

Preparing Bravely

Hello friends!😊 My name is Lacey Higgins. I am from Pontotoc, MS; however, I currently live in Clinton, MS where I go to school at Mississippi
College. I am a Sophomore Public Relations marketing major with a Christian Studies minor. I am in Kissimee Social Tribe. This
spring break I will be going with this tribe to Haiti on a missions
trip! If you want to know more, you can check out my blog.

If you would like to support Lacey’s upcoming trip, you can purchase a t-shirt. Email LCHiggins@mc.edu to place an order by Friday November 20th. For more info, click here.

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I have to be honest.  When, Aly first asked me to write about my mission trip to Haiti, I was super pumped and super challenged at the same time.  I was super excited that she asked me to write about how it went when I got back (because I know it is going to be awesome because of John 14:12); however, she challenged me when she asked me to write about what I did to prepare to go to Haiti.  The truth is, I had not really done anything to prepare at the time she asked me to write this except the obvious.  I had done a t-shirt fundraiser, wrote letters asking for financial help, and so on (P.S.  Never let money keep you from going on a mission trip.  God will provide.  A few fundraisers is all it takes.  People will give for you to do God’s work).  I had even researched the culture of Haiti (just incase you were wondering…don’t wear the famous college girl Nike shorts while you are in Haiti.  If you wear something that comes above your knee…they think you are a prostitute…and who is going to listen to a prostitute talk about Jesus)?  BUT…Spiritually…. What was I doing to prepare to go to Haiti?  Well….nothing until Aly asked me to write this (thank you Aly).  I thought about what it takes to get spiritually ready for a mission trip for almost a week straight after Aly messaged me.  Then, God spoke to me through His word in Exodus 17.

 

“Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed, and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed.”

Exodus 17:11 ESV

 

Joshua took some of his men to battle while Moses when to the top of the mountain and lifted His hands with the staff in them.  When Moses’ hands were raised, Joshua and his men were winning, but when Moses would lower his hands, they started to be defeated.  You see, going out on the mission field is only one step to winning hearts and souls for Christ. If you do not have someone lifting their hands toward heaven PRAYING, then you will be defeated.  Just look at the history of America, every revival started with PRAYER.  Therefore, to prepare for my trip, I spent many, MANY hours on my knees and face praying for every tiny encounter I will have in Haiti. BUT I DID NOT STOP THERE.  I needed someone to hold up the staff while I am on the battlefield, so I got my lovely mentor and her whole Sunday School class to commit to praying for me continuously while I am in Haiti.  I also have others who I know will do the same, like Aly and my family.  Their prayers will change the whole outcome of the battle.  I also continued to dig in God’s word because HOW AM I GOING TO TELL OTHERS ABOUT CHRIST AND HIS WORD IF I DO NOT EVEN KNOW IT.  And that is when I was reminded….

 

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.””

Matthew 28:19-20 ESV

 

The literal translation says, “As you are going.”  This means: Haiti is not my only mission field I need to train for.  My home, my school, my city, my state, my country…they are all my mission field.  I should be praying for Mississippi just as much as I have been praying for Haiti.  I should prepare to share Christ with people at work just as much as I do the kids at the orphanage in Haiti, so let’s make a deal:  You be the Joshua for your hometown and I will be your Moses and you be the Moses for my hometown and Haiti  while I be the Joshua.  If we all prayed and shared Christ at home like we did on mission trips, imagine how great this world would be.

Until next time,

Lacey Higgins

 

 

Brave Witness

I’m Brianna McElroy, and I am currently an undergraduate student at the University of Texas at San Antonio. I’m on staff with a ministry called Cru (formerly Campus Crusade for Christ), and hope to continue in ministry for many years! Some of my passions include traveling, laughing, listening to music, and spending time with family and friends.

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“Brave” isn’t a word that I would usually describe myself as. I’ve always done things that are pretty routine, pretty comfortable. Even as I sit here writing this story, I wonder if brave is even the word I should be using as I tell it. It seems like it should be accompanied by the words “mighty” and “fearless”! But as I’ve come to learn in the past year, bravery looks different for every person. I can be brave while also being afraid. I can be brave without having to be the strongest person around. I can be brave even when it doesn’t feel like bravery.

Sharing the Gospel is something that has always scared me, which is crazy when I think about it. Why should sharing the one thing that truly gives me life be so difficult? But if I’m honest with myself, it’s because I’ve always cared about two things: my own comfort, and what other people think about me. Talking about Jesus and what He did for our salvation is so incredibly important, but it’s also not a message that is always received so well. I used to live in a constant fear of rejection and also in my own limitations. Surely God didn’t make me to be an evangelist, right? However, the one verse that has been continuously standing out to me this past year is 2 Timothy 4:5. Paul says to Timothy, “But you, be sober in all things, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry”. Do the work of an evangelist. For some reason, that was the reminder and courage I needed to step out of my comfort zone and start sharing the Gospel. I may not automatically be an evangelist, but I’m also called to do the work of one.

So I’ve mentioned that sharing the Gospel is hard for me, right? In the past, I would feel a nudging in my spirit to go up to a random stranger and share Christ with them. But 99% of the time I would ignore that nudging, allowing my fear to take control. But what if they reject what I have to say? What if I mess it all up? This year, everything changed for me. The Lord called me out of that place of comfort (which was really a place of fear) and called me into some situations where I did have to be brave. But it wasn’t even my own bravery, it was the Holy Spirit working through me. I’ll share one specific story with you now.

I was having lunch with a student on campus in late August. She left for a class, but something inside told me that I should wait a few more minutes. Pretty soon a girl came and sat at the table next to mine. Instantly, I got that nudging in my spirit. Only this time it was like a great big kick! I sat staring at the back of her head for a good ten minutes, and I began feeling that old familiar fear. Surely I had waited too long and it would be awkward to start a conversation now, right? I prayed for a clear opportunity to talk to her, and within a minute she started violently coughing. I jumped up and ran over to her to see if she was okay (she was), and asked if I could sit with her. She looked confused but allowed me to join her. I asked her if there was anything I could pray about for her, and she started to say no. I began wondering if I had heard the Holy Spirit wrong. This girl obviously doesn’t want to talk to me! But before I had a chance to excuse myself and dash, she suddenly remembered a crazy situation going on in her life that she DID need prayer about. So I prayed for her right then and there and thought that that was all I needed to do. But that nudging was even stronger. So I asked her about her spiritual background and found out that she hadn’t been to church in years and didn’t know what to believe. I quickly prayed for courage and for the words to speak, and then shared the Gospel with her. I had no idea how she would respond, because I couldn’t gauge her interest while I was talking. But when I asked if she wanted to receive Christ into her life at the end, I was surprised when she enthusiastically said “absolutely!” I walked her through a prayer and walked away amazed at what had happened.

That particular instance is something I’ve been reflecting on constantly. If I had allowed myself to dwell in my fear of witnessing like I used to do, I would have missed out on an amazing opportunity to help lead someone into a relationship with Christ. I thought of all the times I had ignored the Spirit’s prompting before because I was scared, and it saddens me.

I said in the beginning that I wasn’t sure if “brave” is even the word I should use for this story. But I know that because of the Lord, I truly am brave. Because of Him, I no longer have to live in fear.

Brave Repentance

This week’s brave story author wished to remain anonymous. I hope you are encouraged by her story!

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It’s strange how a word can have a fixed definition but as life goes on, our understandings of words can change and alter that very definition. Upon first thought, courage condors up images of heroes, daunting situations, and people who had the guts to risk it all. Although in my experience, I have never been the person with the opportunity to literally risk my life for someone else or to jump in to a flaming building. Though these things do indeed take courage I have found that courage spiritually is a little bit more of a humbling beast.

Recently my friend and I were skype-ing and as the conversation came so did the topic of sin. For me this conversation and been a long time coming because due to circumstances and location I had not been able to be within Christian community at all for a good month or two. As you can imagine, a time of little fellowship leads to a slip in accountability, and spiritual strength. Though I kept my basic morals as a christian, my mind and heart were festering with “little sins” which were hardly little at all. Where I truly discovered courage in all this was not necessarily where you might hope, it was right after the build up of sin. I found my self in kind of pit, with a weak conscious and weary spirit, whose mind and heart felt inadequate, and too inadequate to return to God the same. I felt as if I had lost apart of who I was and damaged the the person, that God had made me to be and anyone with in the community would have seen me to be.

Like I said, though these were “little sins” they did a piece of work on my self esteem and my spirit. What took courage was actually coming back to God, returning to the place where I thought that I had ruined my relationship, and damaged my pure heart. Humbly coming to God and saying I’m sorry and I need you more than ever, is courage. In a biblical sense some of the “greatest sinners” in the Bible exercised this same courage to came back to God, and you know what? Now there in the freaking Bible! As past examples of how once you are God’s you can never be too ruined or too dirty to return to him. Take the story of David and Bathsheba for example, David lied, committed adultery, and straight up murdered people just to satisfy his sinful heart. However, to see David’s situation and just poo poo him for being bad would hypocritical and dumb, after all, this was “The One God Loved” and he now had to go on and face the fact that he wasn’t the “David he used to be” .

You see this in Psalms 51 “ Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love: according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions..” a certain painful turning God but most of all you see courage hidden beneath it all. A relentless out pour of repentance and returning despite the weariness in his heart for his own words and actions. David in my opinion was the most courageous here, because he could have easily ran away but, instead he returned, dirty, broken and humbled.

After spilling my guts to my friend she very sweetly and empathetically pointed me back to the Lord. Although at this moment what I failed to realize is that this was not my moment of courage. My moment of courage was when I admitted to God that I was in knee deep and I needed Him because I literally had no power to help my self. If you love the Lord, friends, and are weary and sinful and gross please, take this step of courage of returning to Him, knowing you are not the only one who has sinned. Courage is good and in light of our Savior its even better, oh my friend how courageous you can be! You are loved and you have the courage because the Lord of all the universe resides in your soul. Ugh I’m so excited for you, lets do this together.