3. This is a short-term setback, not a permanent condition. The emotions that feel so intense today will ease up over time as long as we let them. We just have to watch how we think and talk about this rejection. If we give it the power to define us, it will haunt us long-term. But if we only allow it enough power to refine us, the hurt will give way to healing.
As I sat in that restaurant with Ashley and helped her process her fears through the filter of truth, courage emerged that no matter what happened—good or bad—she could trust God.
Finally, she clicked open the email revealing her grades. Not only did she pass; she was on the dean’s list.
I was so thankful that day for tears of joy. But I’m also well aware that in the tomorrows that come, things could be different. Rejections big and small just seem to ebb and flow in and out of life. Troubles will probably still find us. But the Lord doesn’t just deliver us from some of our troubles. Psalm 34:19 tells us He delivers us from them all!
And I’ll give that truth a big, huge AMEN!
Father God, I don’t understand this situation. But I do understand Your goodness to me. Help me replace the fears threatening to consume me with truth. I know You love me, You are for me, and I absolutely can trust You with all of my heart. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
68
THE BEST WORST THING
[Jesus] replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.
—MATTHEW 8:26
I failed at being a wedding planner.
No one wants a planner who gets so undone by the neurotic mother-of-the-bride that she throws up in the parking lot right beside the guest sidewalk.
Really, nothing says, “Welcome to my wedding” quite like that.
I failed at being a kitchen gadget saleswoman.
No one wants to see the tip of a thumb sliced off into the veggie pizza at the exact moment I was promising how safe this gadget is.
Awesome.
I failed at being a cafeteria lady at a private school.
My assistant decided her arms were so dry she needed to coat herself with our spray butter. When we took the trash out later that day, we both got attacked by bees and forgot about the pizza in the oven.
Kids don’t take kindly to burnt pizza.
I failed at being a receptionist.
It’s never a good idea to just succumb to those sleepy afternoon feelings and lay your head down on the desk.
Bosses don’t like workers who snore. Even if they are pregnant.
Yes, I failed at a lot during those years when I was trying to figure out what to do with my life. At the time, each of these things felt like the worst that could have happened. Now, I think they were the best worst things.
We live in a broken world full of broken people. But isn’t it comforting to know God isn’t ever broken?
Had these things been successful, I would have never discovered the joy of being in the ministry I’m in now.
I see this same theme woven throughout many stories in the Bible.
In Matthew 8:23–24 we find Jesus getting into a boat with His disciples. “Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat.” Worst thing.
But in verse 26 Jesus got up and rebuked the winds and waves and things turned completely calm. The disciples were amazed. Best worst thing.
In Acts 5:18 we find the apostles being arrested and thrown in jail. Worst thing.
But in Acts 5:19 we find an angel of the Lord opening the doors of the jail and bringing them out. Later we find them with so much confidence they boldly proclaim, “We must obey God rather than men” (v. 29 NASB). Best worst thing.
I don’t understand why we have to go through cruddy stuff. And I certainly know there are many worse things to go through than what I’ve mentioned here.
We live in a broken world full of broken people. But isn’t it comforting to know God isn’t ever broken? He isn’t ever caught off guard, taken by surprise, or shocked by what happens next.
He can take our worst and add His best. We just have to make the choice to stay with Him and keep following Him through it all.
Dear Lord, I know You are capable of taking my worst and turning it into Your best. Show me this truth anew today. Refresh my spirit. I want to follow You through it all. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
69
A BETTER PLACE TO PARK
Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
—PHILIPPIANS 4:8
As I trace my fingers back across the timeline of my life, I can remember times when spiritual and emotional emptiness left me vulnerable. The shape of my lack was the absence of a biological father.
He took with him so much more than he ever could have imagined. Those few suitcases and plastic crates didn’t just contain boxers, ties, old trophies, and dusty books. Somewhere in between his Old Spice and office files were shattered pieces of a little girl’s heart.
Now I’m not a big fan of pointing to hurts from my childhood and saying, “All my issues can be linked back to what other people did to me. Let me cut open my hurts and wallow in all that leaks out.” Everyone has hurts from their past. And everyone has the choice to either let those past hurts continue to haunt and damage them or to allow forgiveness to pave the way for us to be more compassionate toward others.
My dad’s abandonment was so huge, so draining, that it caused me to fill my mind with only negative memories of him. In my mind, he never loved me at all.
And you know what? Maybe he didn’t. But parking my mind only on negative thoughts about my dad left such a sadness in my heart. Though I’ve been touched by Jesus and my soul filled with God’s good perspective and healing truths, there was still this very human part of me that felt so incredibly sad when I thought about what never was with my daddy.
Sometimes I could brush off this sadness with a little sigh and recitation of who I am in Christ. But other times it made me angry. And defensive. And deeply unsatisfied.
Then one day God surprised me in the most unusual way. While my dad still made no effort to connect with me, a sweet memory of him changed my dark perspective.
One winter I traveled to Vermont, where I woke up one morning to stare at what an overnight snowstorm had brought. I had never seen such snow in all my life. But what really caught my attention were the gigantic icicles hanging from the roof line. They were glorious.
As I stared out at them, suddenly a memory of my dad flashed across the screen of my mind.
I grew up in Florida, which meant no snow ever. But I remember praying for snow. Praying like a revival preacher at a tent meeting. If ever there could be snow in Florida, surely a passionate little girl’s prayers could open up those heavenly storehouses where all snowflakes are kept.
To dwell on hard things keeps us in hard spots.
One night the temperatures dropped surprisingly low and the weatherman called for a freeze, which was a rare thing in our area. How tragic there was no precipitation. It was the one night that snow might have been possible.
It broke my little snow bunny heart.
But the next morning I awoke to the most amazing sight. There were icicles everywhere. Gleaming, dripping, hanging, light-reflecting, glorious icicles were all over the trees in our backyard.
It was magical.
We were the only house on the block with this grand winter display.
Because I was the only girl whose daddy thought to intentionally put sprinklers out on the one night it froze.
I don’t know where this memory had been hiding for too many years. But what a gift. Somewhere in the deep, mysterious, broken places of my dad’s heart, there was an inkling of love.
While this certainly doesn’t solve all the complications of being abandoned by my dad, it gives me a healthy thought to dwel
l on where he’s concerned—one of those good thoughts the Bible tells us to think about: “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Philippians 4:8). I like to call this “parking my mind in a better spot.”
It’s so easy to park our minds in bad spots. To dwell and rehash and wish things were different. But to dwell on hard things keeps us in hard spots and only serves to deepen our feelings of emotional emptiness.
This icicle memory gave me a new place to park.
Do you have something from your past that causes emotional emptiness? As a first step toward healing, ask the Lord to help you think of one thing good from this past situation or something good that has happened despite the pain.
Dear Lord, You know the hurts I have from the past that still drain me. Please show me a good place to park my mind when that pain stings me again. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
70
WISDOM TOGETHER
Who is wise and understanding among you? Let them show it by their good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom.
—JAMES 3:13
For all of her life, this girl, my middle girl, has known a secret. When it all falls apart, there is a safe place. Her mom’s arms. More than a hug, this place beats with the gentle rhythm of a heart that feels what she feels. So my girl brings what she can’t bear to experience alone into this place. And we reconnect.
So, when my daughter crawled into my arms at the 3:00 a.m. hour a few years ago, I knew. Trouble had found its way into her heart. A boy, whom she thought would handle her heart gently, didn’t. Her crush, crushed her.
She felt it all so deeply. And while I could see it was all for the best, I hurt for this girl with a split-open heart because she’s mine—my girl who couldn’t sleep so she slipped into my bed to be near the rhythmic heartbeat she’s known since she was conceived.
And in the quiet middle of the night, I held her. I brushed her long brown hair off her tear-streaked face. I kissed the wet salt on her cheeks. And I whispered, “I love you.”
And she knew I was safe. Her safe place to run and find when the world gets wild and cruel and heartbreakingly mean.
The next morning, she showed me the source of her middle-of-the-night anguish—a text message from him. His words were from a heart entangled with immaturity and his own sources of hurt. He’s not a bad person. He was young. And sometimes young means incapable of handling situations the right way.
When we can rise up on the wisdom of others and get a new view of our situations, our next steps seem a little clearer.
I understand that. Age has given me that gift. But my young girl did not understand. She took the words like daggers to the heart. And cried.
She handed me the phone.
“Help me reply.”
There we sat in the midst of poached eggs and toast crumbs talking together, thinking together, replying together.
Together is a really good word. Together is what we need when we hit tough patches in life. No matter what hard place we find ourselves in, feeling alone can make us vulnerable to bad decisions. Hard places can so easily make us want to default to our feelings rather than to wisdom as our guide. That’s not the best time to make a decision. Especially not alone.
I suspect if you’re in a tough place, it probably feels more significant than a teenaged heartbreak. I understand. I’ve been there. And I’ll probably be there again. And when we’re there, we have to be honest that we’re not in the place to make big decisions right then. Maybe we’re not even in the place to make decisions on simple requests by others.
This doesn’t make you bad or incapable. It makes you smart. Smart enough to know to pause and take extra time when life takes on extenuating circumstances that are hard.
In this pause from decisions, go to your safe place. When the world beats you down, open up your Bible. Let His sentences finish yours. Let truth walk before you like a guide on a dark path.
And go also to someone in your sphere of influence whom you know is wise. How do we know whom to go to? The Bible makes it clear: “Who is wise and understanding among you? Let them show it by their good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom” (James 3:13). Yes, let these wise people help you. Stand on top of their wisdom when you feel shaky with your own. When we can rise up on the wisdom of others and get a new view of our situations, our next steps seem a little clearer.
Father, please show me who is wise. Surround me with Your loving arms and the loving arms of Your people when I need them. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
71
WISDOM AND HUMILITY
When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.
—PROVERBS 11:2
Often the people who have the most wisdom have experienced the most humility. Or sometimes even the most humiliation. A wisdom like none other can arise from those hard places that bring us low. Wisdom that’s been unearthed in the messy, mud-puddle places of life. When this kind of wisdom sits in the heart of a person who is vulnerable enough to drop their pride and share what they know, that’s a gift—a gift I desperately need when going through some stuff.
I’ll never forget one year when I needed someone who had some of that hard-earned wisdom. One of my college-aged kids had done something that completely stunned me. And I was two days from leaving to speak at one of the biggest events of my life when I found out.
My first instinct was to cancel the trip. I curled up in my bed and cried.
I finally mustered up the energy to open my computer and figure out how to word my cancellation email. I had never canceled an event before, so I whispered a prayer asking God to please confirm He was okay with me canceling.
That’s when I saw an email from my assistant telling me another speaker had canceled from this event and they were requesting I do two keynote messages. Are you kidding me? I’m thinking I will not even be able to deliver one message, much less two!
I knew I needed to stand on the wisdom from someone else who’d gone before me. Someone who had been through some stuff with her kids and still had to find the courage to speak.
So I called another speaker who I knew had some wisdom found in those places of humility and humiliation. It wasn’t an easy call to make. I cringed at how raw and exposed this admission made me feel. But I knew I was safe with her because we’d had a conversation years ago where she shared some of the less-than-perfect dynamics in her family.
I called. And her words were a gift.
She was generous with her transparency. She assured me I wasn’t alone with words like, “Me too,” “I know,” “We are going through our own hurts and disappointments even right now.” There was not a drop of disgrace directed toward me in her voice. It was interesting that I’d read Proverbs 11:2 just that morning: “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.”
Yes, I knew from where her wisdom came.
She settled my wildly beating heart: “You’re not alone, Lysa. The grace our audiences need is the same grace we must walk in daily. Let this hurt work for you, not against you. Go. You must go.”
A wisdom like none other can arise from those hard places that bring us low.
I knew she was right. Wise. I stood on her wisdom and replied that I would do both keynotes. Then I called and informed my adult child that we were going to do this trip together.
We flew to the event together. We walked through the hard place together. And in the midst of being humbled to the point of humiliation, I discovered my own hard-earned wisdom.
Wisdom is our silver lining. Wisdom will help us not repeat the mistakes we’ve made but rather grow stronger through them.
How do we find it? We come to the Lord and ask Him for it. We set aside our excuses, our habits, and our justifications, and whisper, “I need Your perspective, God. I come before You and humbly admit my desp
erate dependence on You.”
Then we can start to understand what James was talking about when he instructs us to “consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds” (1:2). Doesn’t that sound like a contradictory statement? Joy from trials? Until we realize he’s telling us to “consider it pure joy.” In other words, through a lens of wisdom, look for joy in this unlikely place of trial. And then Scripture reveals the reason:
Because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (vv. 3–4)
So, yes, I can now consider all this and find pure joy when I face trials. And I can gain wisdom in the midst of it all—wisdom I need, wisdom I can use to make even better decisions in the future, and wisdom others will need that I now have to give.
Dear Lord, thank You that You give us the silver lining of wisdom when we have hard times. Please bring into my life people I can learn from, and people to whom I can pass on the wisdom that I learn along the way. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
72
I’M REALLY AFRAID
The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him,
and he delivers them.
—PSALM 34:7
A few years ago, one of my back teeth started hurting. It wasn’t the first time that tooth had given me trouble, and quite honestly, I just didn’t want to deal with it. That tooth had been a complete pain. Literally.
I’d had not one, not two, but three crowns done on the same tooth. The first one broke. The second one broke. And though the third one seemed like it would finally work, the tooth started aching again. Ugh!
The dentist informed me the only thing to do was to have a root canal.
I’m okay with the word root. And I’m okay with the word canal. But when he put those two words together a wild fear whipped its tentacles around my heart and squeezed the life out of me. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t bring myself to schedule the appointment.
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