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How Moods Go: By Kicking

Oswald Chambers wrote, “Moods never go by praying, moods go by kicking.” And he’s right. “Gently” isn’t an adjective that can be applied to mood-removal. Moods must be eradicated by force.

Although I’ve read Chambers’ words countless times and heartily agree that what he wrote is undeniably true, I must admit that I’m often reluctant to kick my moods – especially “sick” mood.

When chronic illness gets me down and I become trapped in a dark and gloomy pit I call it “sick” mood. In an emotionally sick state I feel too low to rise and too hopeless to try. I reach the end of my rope and all I want to do – all I can think to do – is sulk. Tears are usually shed as I cry over my physical maladies and question why God has allowed this debilitating illness to plague me for so long.

Self-absorption is key to “sick” mood. Fixation on the self is at the heart of it. While trapped in a “sick” mood I am entirely consumed with my chronic illness, my pain, my suffering and my personal disappointments. My every thought revolves around me, myself and I.

The very last thing I want to do in a “sick” mood is kick myself – even if only metaphorically. I want the exact opposite of a kick. I want a hug. I want to be coddled, indulged, justified and humored. I want to be told that my feelings are understandable; that it is okay to get down in the pit; that I should lay low and feel my pain. I want to vent to God and lament my lot in life.

But “sick” mood always makes me sicker – physically, mentally and emotionally. When I give “sick” mood an inch it takes a mile and, before I know it, I’m completely paralyzed by pain and suffering. By indulging the mood I issue an open invitation to sorrow and sadness. Every negative, depressed, hopeless feeling receives a boost of discouraged energy and I get dragged deeper into the dark pit.

There is only one way out of “sick” mood: a round-house resurrection kick.

Even in the midst of pain and suffering Christ’s light and overcoming life is available to me but I can’t experience it if I’m unwilling to kick my mood. Until I reject the sadness of sickness and take hold of Christ’s resurrection power the mood won’t flee. I cannot capitulate to chronic illness and claim the joy, love, peace and hope of Jesus at the same time. One must go for the other to thrive. “Sick” mood must die for the Risen power of Christ to survive in me.

Jesus stands at the ready, willing and able to provide all the strength I need to kick “sick” mood and it can be mine the moment I surrender my will, ways and self-absorbed wallowing. The second I deny myself at the foot of the cross and claim the truth and life of the Holy Spirit “sick” mood is defeated.

When “sick” mood gets kicked abundant life is ushered in. Overcoming, spirited, energetic joy is revived. Restful, calming, comforting peace is restored. Hope makes a comeback and all is well with my soul.

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Harveigh: The Survivor Cow

Harveigh is a survivor cow.

During Hurricane Harvey, the category four storm that hit southern Texas in 2017, twenty-seven billion gallons of water fell in just four days causing the loss of over one hundred thousand homes and eighty-eight lives. The hurricane, often referred to in Texas as “the storm of the century,” left wide spread devastation in its wake.

Set in the midst of this heartbreaking scene we meet Harveigh, a baby calf born in the midst of the storm. In the chaos of the hurricane, Harveigh’s mother abandoned her and left the poor calf in the pasture to fend for herself. That’s when farm owners, Mr. & Mrs. Canton, spotted Harveigh standing all alone in the flooded pasture. The rain was still falling and the waters were rising quickly. They knew Harveigh was in imminent danger and hopeless without help.
Despite the treacherous weather conditions, Mr. Canton jumped into action. He went straight into the pasture and maneuvered through frigid, muddy waters to rescue Harveigh and pull her to safety.

But when she was out of the flooded pasture she wasn’t home free yet. Not even close. Harveigh was malnourished, weak and chilled to the bone. She had been battered by the worst of the storm and hadn’t been nursed in days.

Although the Canton’s house was already full of dogs and families displaced by the storm, they rushed Harveigh into the warmth. They laid her in a dog bed and covered her with blankets and towels. The vet warned that Harveigh would likely not survive but the Canton’s weren’t about to give up hope. They were determined to fight for Harveigh and do everything in their power to help her survive. They drove through flooded streets to buy formula so Harveigh could be fed by hand. The Canton’s loved on Harveigh, prayed for her and nursed her back to health. Even the family dogs became Harveigh’s friends, encouraging her to recover and join them in the yard to romp around and play.

Today Harveigh is over four hundred pounds and a beloved member of the Canton family. She is playful, gentle and spirited. Thanks to the heroic efforts of the Canton’s, Harveigh not only survived the storm, she has gone on to thrive and enjoy a full, abundant life.

Harveigh’s story reminds me of the greatest rescue story of all: Jesus’ act of rescue that saved you and me from our devastating storm of sin.

Like Harveigh, you and I were caught in the “storm of the century.” Our storm of sin separated us from everlasting life and the eternal protection that is only found in God’s house. We were spiritually weak, malnourished and chilled to the core of our soul. We were stuck in rising flood waters, helpless and powerless to get out.
But Jesus spotted us.

From up on high, Jesus saw our desperate need and jumped into action to save us. He entered into the lowliest of circumstances, a humble manger, and walked through the muck and mire of this life to rescue us. Jesus Christ lived and died in our pasture to save and deliver us from certain eternal death.

But, just like Harveigh, our story doesn’t end at the rescue.

After He saved us, Jesus opened the door into God’s house and welcomed us in. He prepared a special place for us to keep us warm and well fed. He cleaned us up from the ravaging effects of the storm and wrapped us in blankets of grace and love. To bring us back to health, Jesus Himself came and nourished us with the Holy Spirit’s strength and overcoming life – an act of infinite love He still performs to this day! 

Glory be to God who redeemed us by the blood of the Lamb and restored us in His house. We are made survivors because of the Savior who rescued us and gives us full, abundant, eternal life!

 

**Check out  a video about Harveigh!

 

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My Grown Up Thanksgiving List

Out with the old and in with the new…traditions that is.

This Thanksgiving I’m instituting a new tradition and I think it could catch on: The Thanksgiving list.

My thanksgiving list could go on forever because, as the saying goes, there is always something to be thankful for. From the bed I woke up in to the family that will fill the dinner table tonight for a feast, my life is full of blessings that give me an abundance of reason to over flow with daily thanksgiving.

So, without further ado, this is my grown-up Thanksgiving List:

1.     Redemption.

I was once a lost, rebellious, hideous sinner. My life was marked by bad decisions and double-minded wickedness. But God saved me and on November 2, 2009 I received new life in Christ and a fresh new start. On that fateful day Jesus rescued me from myself and redeemed me with Himself. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the day I received God’s free gift of salvation was the best day of my life.

2.     Forgiveness.

I mess up daily, if not hourly. Although I constantly fall short God is always full of second chances. He keeps picking me back up, brushing me off and giving me the opportunity to try, try again.

3.     Strength (and weakness).

Becoming intimately acquainted with my weakness by way of chronic illness has introduced me to the limitless depth of God’s strength. Every time I surrender in weakness it is an invitation that welcomes God in so He can effortlessly lift me up by His almighty, strong and powerful hand.

4.     Grace.

“Amazing Grace” has always been my favorite hymn and with good reason. It tells the story of my life. “I once was lost, but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see.” By grace through faith in Jesus Christ I have been given new life.

5.     New mornings.

Every sunrise is an opportunity to wake up, get up and start again.

6.     Healing.

God is the healer of the body and the soul and I am thankful for both. Last year at this time I was a shocking 65 pounds; a walking skeleton, uncertain of what the future held for my health. Wow, it is truly amazing what a year can do. Although my journey to full health isn’t over yet the healing I’ve experienced in the past year is a miracle. I am alive! That in and of itself is a miracle. I am regaining function in parts of my body that were either dead or dying. At the same time God has been doing a work on the inside, restoring hope, peace and joy to my soul. God works from the inside out, healing on deeper levels than I ever imagined possible.

7.     Church family.

This year more than ever before I am aware of what a precious gift it is to be a part of a faithful body of believers and so appreciative for the incredible prayers warriors who intercede on behalf of one another. I am always stunned by how many dear brothers and sisters in the Lord are praying for me and pleading with God for my continued healing and renewed health. I cannot say thank you enough.

8.     Eternal assurance.

I have no doubt about what comes after this life. After I leave earth I’m going to Heaven. End of story. That part of my journey is not a mystery because I am a child of the King and know that one day I will cross through the pearly gates and spend eternity with God.

9.     Pain with a purpose.

I’ll admit that I am slow to be thankful for pain. Naturally, I tend to have the opposite reaction while assaulted by gripping pain in my gut, burning in my eyes, or spasms in my legs. Instead of rejoicing I want to escape but when I consider my circumstances through a spiritual lens my agony drenched tears are replaced with abundant thankfulness because my pain has an eternally profitable purpose: to pull me closer to Jesus Christ, to make me wholly dependent on the Holy Spirit and to draw me into a deeper, more intimate relationship with God.

10.  Love.

The greatest gift of all is the love of God poured out on the cross of Christ. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son.” I am alive today – both physically and spiritually – because of the love of God that will not let me go. God lavishly showers me with love through His Word, His Spirit and the people He has put around me.

 

Although this list is not exhaustive it is foundational. My abundance of thanksgiving is rooted in this list because every good gift, from the love of family to the comforts of home, comes from above and springs forth from the fountain of everlasting life.

 

Have you written a Thanksgiving list? I’d love to hear what you’re most thankful for.

Share in the comments below!

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Jesus, take the pen

For the past few months I’ve been fighting every writer’s arch nemesis: the dreaded dry spell.

Every time I sit down to write a prolific, enlightened word my fingers freeze up and mind draws a blank. Even when compelled to share a particular message the words don’t come out right. The moment my fingers hoover over the keyboard my thoughts evaporate. I hit the keys, racking my brain for the right words but it’s useless. The dry spell has me in its clutches and I’ve been unable to escape.

Being caught in the arid land of a writing dry spell has caused me to experience great grief. For eight years, writing has been a rich source of joy in my life. While experiencing loneliness, isolation and loss, writing has been a much-needed buoy for my ailing soul. When chronic illness closed doors and changed the course of my life, picking up a pen provided me with purpose.

But, more importantly, writing has been my lifeline. As I’ve struggled through sickness, God has used writing as a means to communicate with me and fill me with His strength. Through writing God has reached down and lifted me up from the depths of despair.

Although I didn’t write about it at the time, over the past few years I have experienced severe depression. At my lowest points I have truly wanted to die and a desire I shared with my Mother on numerous occasions. Plagued by the ongoing agony and pain of chronic illness my will to live has been threatened. Physical affliction has compelled me to plead with God and ask Him to release me from my suffering – if not by instantaneous healing then by the escape of death.

But God didn’t give me what I asked for. He didn’t let me die nor did He heal me in an instant. But God didn’t abandon me, either. Every time I fell into the pit of hopelessness and begged for death He gave me what I needed most: an infusion of hope.

God carried me through the darkest periods of my life by giving me one command: get up and write. He used writing as a lifeline to fill me with overcoming life and encourage me with truth. When depression broke me and brought me to the end of myself God grabbed hold of me using a pen and a blank page. Over and over again He has reached down and guided my hand to write a message of perseverance and endurance when I needed it most. To save my life and rescue me from the brink of despair Jesus has truly taken my pen.

In the past few months my body has experienced remarkable healing, much less pain and an improvement in overall health. With the physical improvements have come emotional improvements too. My bouts of depression have become less frequent and less severe while my daily pain levels have been greatly reduced.

But the physical renewal has had ill effects on my writer’s life. Without a need for ongoing, moment-by-moment emotional support my ability to formulate thoughts has dried up. The healing of my body has resulted in a barren season in my writer’s soul.

And I know why.

I’m in a dry spell because for the past eight years most of my writing has been about suffering, affliction and pain. Sickness has been the story of my life – the one ’ve been equipped and compelled to write. But my body is healing now. I’m physically stronger than I was and I’m thankful for that.

The dry spell I’m experiencing is not truly a writer’s dry spell. it is a sickness dry spell. All of these years I have depended on the thorn in my flesh to draw me to the throne of God. I have relied on physical suffering for inspiration and illumination. But physical sorrow isn’t the only reason to write. Pain and suffering is not the only reason to ask Jesus to take my pen and fill the page.

Praise God, I am not spiritually dry. The presence of God’s Holy Spirit is alive and well in my life, compelling me to continue writing and praying, “Jesus take the pen.”

 

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Choose Joy

It was 5 PM on Halloween night and the thought of Dr. Seuss’ Cat in the Hat attire was taunting me. “You’re too sick to dress up in a fun-loving character’s costume”… “You feel too lousy to wear a stripped hat and big red bow… “You certainly can’t put on a cartoon character smile in your physical condition.”

Weeks before the October 31st holiday I purchased my Cat in the Hat costume accessories. With high hopes for my Halloween day health I double-clicked on Amazon and, two days later, Prime delivered a classic Dr. Seuss inspired ensemble featuring the Cat’s signature tall, white and red-stripped hat, big red bow and white gloves.

When the package arrived at the door I let out an audible sigh. On the day I clicked “Complete Order” I’d felt strong and hopeful for my health’s near future. That had only been two days prior but already my gut had taken another hit. With Halloween still a few weeks away I silently prayed that the suffering in my stomach would subside before the holiday arrived. “God, I want to be a joyful Cat in the Hat on October 31st but I can’t if I’m plagued with a gripping pain in my gut. Please heal me…and quick!

For the next three weeks the costume accessories remained unopened in my closet as I waited for my prayer to be answered. Days passed and the pain didn’t. When October 31st finally arrived my physical condition wasn’t the least bit improved. In fact, it had worsened.

As the sun was beginning to set on Halloween night and trick-or-treaters were about to hit the streets in search of candy I laid on my closet’s floor gripping my stomach in pain. That’s when I looked up and, out of the corner of my eye, caught a glimpse of the Cat in the Hat attire still in its bag. All day I had tried to avoid the accessories, too discouraged by my condition to consider changing into a costume. The very thought of the Cat in the Hat produced in me feelings of sadness and grief until I looked up and noticed a picture on the side of the package – a picture I hadn’t noticed before: two smiling faces dressed like Cat in the Hat smiling back at me.

The sight of those smiling faces quieted my mind’s taunting voice and flooded my spirit with a fresh burst of resolve. It was as if the Cat in the Hat himself were beckoning me to rise up, change my attitude and my attire and choose joy.  

Five minutes later I was wearing black pants and a black button up shirt underneath a white suit jacket. Around my neck was a big red velvety bow. On my hands were white cotton cartoon gloves and on my head was a tall, wide brimmed, white and red-stripped hat. On my face was a big, wide toothy, cartoon smile and in my heart was overcoming joy.

On Halloween 2018 I embraced the joy and delight of the Cat in the Hat. On All Hallows Eve I choose to wear a smile. Yes, I was in pain. Yes, my gut was still in distress. But my heart was full of persistent hope. In my spirit that was determination and resiliency.

Choosing joy transformed my Halloween night from one of defeat into one of overwhelming victory. Choosing joy will do that – it will change things. It will change people. It will transform circumstances and outcomes.

When I prayed to God weeks before October 31st I believed my pain needed to be removed in order for joy to be restored but God showed me the error of my ways. God used a Cat in the Hat costume to remind me that the presence of joy is not contingent on the absence of pain. I do not need to be painless to be joyful because the joy of Jesus is so powerful it can overcome my pain.

Every time l rise up and approach God’s throne of grace with faith and belief, asking to be filled with the Holy Spirit and joy of Jesus’ victorious life, God always delivers. He annihilates pain’s power in the presence of Christ’s resurrection power. He lifts sorrow and sadness and replaces it with joy and gladness.

Every day I get to make a choice about the attitude I will wear. By the grace of God and the strength of the Risen King I pray I’ll always choose joy.

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I believe in a thing called love – even when it’s running late.

The leaves were running late this year.

The leaves in Northern Pennsylvania typically begin changing color in early October. By October 13th the annual green leaf transformation is usually well underway and dazzling shades of red, yellow and orange are expected to display their finest glory on October 19th – give or take a day or two.

But not this year.

In early October the leaves didn’t begin their annual color change. When October 13th arrived most of the trees were still covered in green. Then the 19th came and went without even the slightest hint of a fall foliage display.

It was around that time that Northern nature lovers began questioning the absence of autumn’s seasonal tree transformation. Where are the colors of fall? They asked. When will the leaves change? People wondered. Where is the beauty of autumn we all expect to see this time of year? Was the question on everyone’s mind – mine included.

Fall is my favorite time of year and when the leaves didn’t change colors I missed the beautiful foliage scenes expected during the month of October. I become depressed, worrying that this year the leaves would never change color. I became sad when I imagined an October without nature’s autumn masterpieces painted across the Northern Pennsylvania landscape.

And then I saw it. I saw fall on full display in the mighty Maple tree.

On October 30 while driving down the road on a bright blue Tuesday morning I saw a gorgeous Maple tree draped in autumn leaves as stunning as spun gold. Swaying peacefully in the gentle wind stood flawless fall foliage on grand display. The sun hit the leave’s yellow hues and made them sparkle and shine. The Maple tree was seasonally picture-perfect, as if it had been cut from the cover of a fall foliage brochure.

Gazing upon the golden kissed Maple Tree all of my questions and concerns about the future of fall disappeared. I breathed a sigh of relief, reassured that the leaves were still destined to change color. The golden leaves on the Maple tree stood as irrefutable evidence that the seasons still shift the way they always have – just not according to my time.

The glorious vision of the Maple tree reassured me of God’s faithfulness to the seasons. Even when the green stayed on the trees weeks past what is considered “typical,” God’s forecast for fall was already predetermined and established. The transformation of the trees was always destined to arrive according to His perfect timing.

And so it is with love in my life.

God is as faithful to my love life as He is to the changing leaves on the trees. The dazzling, and slightly delayed, Maple tree reassured me that God has the love of my life predetermined and established, destined to arrive according to God’s perfect timing.

God has not abandoned me as a twenty-eight year old single. Although love appears to be running late, God has my future scheduled according to His perfect timing. I trust and believe that the very Author of love, the Ultimate Match-Maker, is writing my love story so that, when the time is just right, a love as glorious and golden as a Maple tree at the peak of fall foliage will be revealed upon the landscape of my life.

The love of my life is going to arrive just like the colors that transformed the Maple tree. Later than usually but as brilliant and beautiful as ever.

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A Stain is a Stain

The disposable paper cup was still quite full with steaming hot double-double when the coffee collision occurred. It was an innocent accident, the sort of mishap that can easily transpire while moving with haste in the presence of a hot beverage.

The spill happened so fast I had no time to react. One moment I was completely clean and coffeeless. The next I was covered in medium roast.

The moment the hot liquid hit I hopped up, hoping to minimize the damage but it was too late. The cup’s lid had popped off, releasing a flood of coffee rushing in my direction. By the time I stood up my lap was already thoroughly caffeinated along with my feet and brand new sneakers.

I quickly slipped off my shoes and ran them under cold water. Then, with the help of a damp paper towel, I went to work on cleaning my pants and was pleased when the coffee disappeared in a jiffy.

With my sneakers and pants cleaned and socks replaced I thought that all consequences of the coffee collision had been avoided until I caught a glimpse of my shirt. At the very top of my brand new blue t-shirt was one little round coffee stain. While I had been busy worrying about my shoes I had forgotten to look at my shirt. An hour post spill, when I finally thought to inspect it, the coffee spot on my new, once flawless shirt was completely dry and quite obvious.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “It’s just a shirt….It’s just a little spot…It’s not a big deal.” And you’re right. Shirts are just material possessions. They have no lasting value. A little stain on a shirt is nothing to cry over.

But what if that shirt were my soul?

You see, the trouble is not how I treat shirt stains; it’s treat soul stains.

When I sin do I check my entire being as well as I check my entire attire after a coffee spill? Do I throw off my sinful ways as quickly as I threw off my stained sneakers? Do I rush to God for cleansing and renewal as hastily as I rushed to the sink to clean up my pants and change my socks? Do I check my whole heart, mind and soul for wrong thoughts, motives and feelings? Or do I neglect to search my whole being like I neglected to check my whole wardrobe?

The moral of the coffee spill story is that a stain is a stain no matter how small.

Whether the sin comes rushing in like a flood or simply splatters a few droplets, the result is a stain. Once sin enters in the whole heart, soul and mind get stained meaning that the whole heart, soul and mind need cleansed. I cannot allow sin to be spilled in my life and address only the obvious stains. I must look everywhere, surrender everything and take my whole being before the throne of grace to get clean.

The longer a stain sits on a shirt the harder it is to get out and the same is true in the human heart. The longer I let sin go without the treatment of God’s correction, forgiveness and renewal, the more difficult it will be for me to come and allow Him to perform His work of washing in my life. I become more stubborn and less remorseful the longer sin sits in my heart. I become more tolerant and less troubled by the sin the more time spent with it tainting my life.

Thankfully, no matter how dry and troubling the stain of sin, God can thoroughly and completely clean it up. With the washing of regeneration that comes by way of Christ’s cross, God can remove every blemish, spot and stain. Even if the spill occurred decades ago, God can eliminate all evidence of the sin. When we give Him our whole selves and let Him have His will and way, God can and will wash every part of us and make us brand new for the glory of Jesus’ name.

 

Although the coffee stain had already set and dried on my new shirt all hope was not lost. With a good, thorough spot cleaning, the coffee spot disappeared. Now I can look at the shirt from every angle and in every light and never see the slightest remnant of stain. If I never told anyone, no one would ever know my new shirt had ever encountered a hot coffee collision.

And so it with us.

Once God cleans us up it is as if the stain never happened. He removes our sin as far as the east is from the west. He restores us with grace and gives us a fresh start. He gives us new life through the power of the risen Jesus Christ.

It’s true that a stain is a stain no matter how small but the good news is that God is the One who can remove them all.

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God’s purpose for pain? Prayer.

God always has a purpose for my pain and its always prayer.

Until I’m in need of relief from physical pain my dialogue with God is half-hearted at best. It often takes bodily suffering to transform my pathetic, weak prayer life into an ongoing, intimate conversation with the Lord on High. Time and time again God has allowed the stress of physical distress to enter my life in order that I would be compelled to passionately and fervently converse with Him in prayer.

Why is it that I wait for pain to propel me to prayer? Talking with God is as fundamental to my spiritual well-being as breathing is to my physical well-being. Yet when I am physically well I am prone to neglect my prayer life and allow it my conversation with God to become feeble and infrequent and, before I know it, I become spiritually unwell.

In his New Testament letter, James wrote to the twelve tribes that if any of them were afflicted they should pray. If they were merry they should sing psalms and songs of praise. (James 5:13) James was echoing the instruction of Paul who wrote to the Ephesians to “… pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.” (Ephesians 6:18)

Both Paul and James knew that the secret to living united with Christ is consistently and constantly talking to God through prayer. When communication suffers, faith fails. When intimate conversation with God goes silent, strength in His Spirit falters.

God desires that His children remain relentless in their prayerful condition regardless of their physical condition. In sickness and in health, God wants us to engage in and enjoy loyal, constant, consistent conversation with Him. God yearns to communicate with us in all circumstances – on easy days and hard days; painful days or days of ease. God desires to talk with us and walk with us so He can strengthen and guide us along paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.

Pain has been the catalyst for many of my most heartfelt prayers but in order for my relationship with Christ to be healthy and fruitful, pain cannot be the only reason I pray. For the well-being of my faith, my prayer life cannot be pain dependent. Whether it be through tearful laments or tears of joy, I must continually to talk to God in all circumstances and on all occasions because God always wants to talk to me.

And He wants to talk to you, too.

Don’t wait for pain to pray. Speak to your Heavenly Father today. Right here. Right now.

And then get ready to listen because God is always eager to engage in a beautiful, fruitful, blessed, ENDLESS conversation with His beloved.

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Boils, Bubbles & Belief

I approached the mirror for the specific purpose of inspecting my nose (a relatively large sniffer to begin with) but not even I was prepared for the reality of my reflection. The moment my eyes caught a glimpse of my nose I recoiled, shocked by the face staring back at me.

The night before my nose inspection the outside of my right nostril had become tender and painful. Now it was morning and the pressure was even more intense. I felt the side of my nose and detected a large bump. Praying the protrusion was just a nasty pimple I hurried to the bathroom to take a closer look but my pimple hopes were dashed the moment I approached the mirror. What I witnessed in my reflection was worse – and bigger – than I’d imagined. It only took a second to diagnose that I had a gigantic, fire-red, inflamed boil growing on the side of my nose.

Confronted with the reality of my boil I immediately became discouraged. In the past few months many of my symptoms had been reducing – back pain, muscle spasms, visual disturbances, hot flashes. I had been flying high on revitalized health but now, when I looked at my nose, I couldn’t see a single physical gain. All I could see was a pussy, painful step backwards.

The boil was well on its way to defeating my spirit and hope for the future until I recalled my “bubble saga.”

The bubble that appeared on my left eyelid last December was an infectious cyst-like growth that disrupted my vision and held me hostage wearing glasses. The bubble remained on my eyelid for nearly half a year and grew to gargantuan, unsightly proportions before miraculously healing – praise God!

During my bubble saga the pussy protrusion often appeared as if it were about to burst but God never abandoned my eyelid. Although the bubble was tender and painful it never ruptured. Even when it grew so large I couldn’t open my eye fully, God never allowed that bubble to burst. He protected my vision and spared my eyelid so that, in His perfect time, it could heal by His perfect ways.

To this day I don’t know the science behind why my infection developed into a bubble on my eyelid but I do know why it healed. Because God intended for it to heal. Without medical intervention, surgery or prescriptions, God intended for the bubble to miraculously go away.

As I surveyed the boil on my nose discouragement and fear ceased at the memory of my bubble saga. Why should I worry about a boil when God has already proved He can sustain and heal my body? What power does an unsightly growth have over my hope and belief when I am in the hands of the Great Physician?

Because I believe God is able to do anything and know that nothing is impossible for Him, my boil cannot rob me of my peace or discourage me with the threat of defeat.

Because I am fully assured that God can perform any and every extraordinary miracle He so chooses I can look at any bubble, boil or infectious growth and continue to remain at rest.

Because God promises to always take care of me and has always been true to His word, I can be at peace regardless of my physical condition.

As I write this post my nose is still plagued by a boil that it is still causing me pain. For all I know this boil could stick around for six months just like its bubbly predecessor or longer if that be God’s will.

Although the future of my boil is still unknown the future of my hope and belief is secure because I know who is in control and who is working all things – boils and bubbles included – together for my good. The Lord God Almighty who upholds my life and oversees every fiber of my being has plans to make me boil-iful (I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist) for my good and His glory.

God is good.

God is faithful.

And He isn’t finished yet.

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Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk

I grabbed the blue carton with purpose, eager to moisten my cereal and dig into breakfast. With my grip secure and arm poised with strength, I picked up the gallon of milk from the counter top and, following the labels instructions, shook it with vigor. A decision I immediately regretted.

As I threw my arm backwards with the brand new, full gallon of milk in hand, a stream of white liquid went flying into the air. Time stood still as the milk exited the opened bottled, traveled straight up towards the ceiling and cascaded downward, flowing like a fountain. One enthusiastic shake of the uncapped carton created Lake Milk on the kitchen floor.

Maybe my milk mishap was due to morning grogginess or perhaps hungry haste was to blame. Whatever the cause of my clumsiness the effect was the same: a milky mess. Removing the cap on a full milk carton prior to shaking well resulted in a whole lot of spilled milk.

For a moment following the mishap I paused, stunned by how quickly the mess was created. One moment the carton was full. The next, half of its contents were on the floor.

As I set the half-full carton on the counter and surveyed Lake Milk I paused for a moment, considering the best way to respond to such as mishap – silly and innocent as it was. One thought immediately came to mind. Don’t cry over spilled milk. Just clean it up and move on.

A few minutes and many paper towels later, the mess was gone and the floor was clean. Before I knew it I was seated at the counter eating my breakfast cereal as if the spill had never happened. In the end, all I lost in the mishap was a little extra milk and a little time but, thankfully, I didn’t lose a single tear.

In life there are bound to be innocent mishaps and mistakes. Milk is going to get spilled and slip-ups are going to happen because we are all imperfect humans prone to grogginess, clumsiness and haste.

But we don’t need to cry over every spill. We don’t need to make a production over every silly accident and shame ourselves over every innocent slip-up. We simply need to accept that we’re all imperfect milk-spillers in need of forgiveness and a fresh start.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting that you go throw milk all over the floor just for kicks and giggles. Choosing to respond to the accident with a laugh and accepting attitude is not an invitation to spill just like forgiveness is not an invitation to intentionally sin. The forgiveness to laugh at the spill is an extension of grace that invites the pure in heart to move forward and start again with a clean slate and clear conscience. Mercy removes the mess and invites us to grab the milk again tomorrow morning and shake that carton with confidence (and the cap securely fastened).

With a pure heart seeking to live embodying the righteousness of Christ you need not cry over spilled milk. All you need to do is confess the mistake, ask God for forgiveness and let Him clean up the mess. God will always meet you on the floor to wipe away your tears and give you a fresh start.