Grace 'n Grounds

Encouragement Grounded in His Truth

Encouragement grounded in Scripture
Rooted in truth. Anchored in Christ.
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    How about a little help over here?

    We had prepared him for this day. Told him what exactly to expect. He knew just the number of pricks he was getting, and the shots he needed to get back into school for his 7th grade year. He knew just the time he needed to get up, and what they would require of him once he got there. He knew they MAY have an extra dose of vaccine, and he could get one prick extra. We had prepared him for every possible thing that could be expected.

    “We have an extra dose of the vaccine, and he is scheduled for a weight and height check, too.”

    Then it happened. Uh-oh.

    “You did not tell me about height and weight! Two shots! I am only getting two shots! Because that is what you said!” Kicking. Yelling. Arms flailing. Looking more like a toddler, and less like a 12 year old (well, even more less like one, hence the height and weight check).

    The meltdown he had certainly didn’t match the weight he wasn’t gaining. The meltdown he had was simply because Mommy forgot about that height and weight check. It was not on his “schedule.” Not what he was expecting. This is the norm when dealing with autism. Clearly I should know better.

    “This is embarrassing. People are looking at us. I’m going to the Jeep.”

    I get it. She, his older sister, had endured this just as long as we had. But she was 14. I am 43. My skin is tougher than hers. I had learned that no one was throwing you a bone, and they were going to stare, and he was still going to scream.

    “Hun, I got a shot blocker. It makes it hurt less.”

    There was my bone. Sweet Jesus. Where did this angel dressed as a nurse come from? And could there please be more like her? 

    As we climbed back in our vehicle, my daughter spoke again about her embarrassment, and I proceeded to tell her this, about the girl she described as making faces and laughing:

    “No one knows our situation. No one knows what he goes through. Or who he is. And after today they won’t see us again. They may even go home and be horrible to their parents. Or mean to their siblings. Or be big bullies in their neighborhoods or schools. I don’t care if they stare. What I care about is that you two know NOT to do that. You get and give shot blockers”

    So. Which one are you? Because I know in the many years we have endured our son’s tantrums we have had some hand us a bone, and some just hand us stares. And I know many don’t know what to do, but a question asking us how to help is enough to make us feel less out of control, less incompetent, less wanting to melt into a puddle (or hide in cars).

    On the way home, because I had bribed the kid with Starbucks just to get that weight and height checked without another meltdown (look, I gotta do what I gotta do), I heard from the backseat, “You want to try some?” At first I thought the sky could be falling. Was she being kind to her embarrassing, younger brother? 

    As I questioned her character, because this is what “good” parents do when their kids are nice, this is what she told me: “Mom, he didn’t get his cake pop. I’m sharing some of my banana bread.” 

    She had handed him a bone. 

    Could you hand someone a dose of compassion instead of stares, snickers, and judgment that do nothing but add to the scorn they already feel? What bone could you hand out today to a person, a mom, or a desperate child in need? Do you have a shot blocker, a piece of banana bread, or a yummy cup of coffee to ease the burden for someone? It will not only make them feel a lot better, it’s guaranteed to lift you up too.

    The generous will prosper; those who refresh others will themselves be refreshed. Proverbs 11:25, NLT

  • Rejoicing In All Things

    This is the day the Lord has made.
        We will rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:14, NLT

    It is probably no secret you have either said this verse or at least heard it. Upon waking, or upon beginning a Sunday morning church service. Spoken as a reminder to praise God for the things he has done for us. But what happens is, if we don’t forget this step once our feet begin moving, we praise Him for the good things only.

    I know what you are thinking. “Aren’t we supposed to praise Him for the good things?” Well, yes. But, let’s reflect on this story to also consider those “other” things.

    Most know the story of Job in the Bible:

    There once was a man named Job who lived in the land of Uz. He was blameless—a man of complete integrity. He feared God and stayed away from evil. 2 He had seven sons and three daughters. 3 He owned 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 teams of oxen, and 500 female donkeys. He also had many servants. He was, in fact, the richest person in that entire area. Job 1:1-3, NLT

    His misfortune begins shortly after we meet him. In several short visits, Job loses all his crops, livestock, shepherds, and even his sons and daughters. His response? “Praise the name of the Lord!” Job 1:21, NLT

    When reading this story, I have always asked myself, “How do we praise God for bad things? Especially things like this?” In reading further, I remember reading the following as Job was talking to his wife about loss, “Should we accept only good things from the hand of God and never anything bad?” Job 2:10, NLT

    We stop praising God when bad things happen because we expect that when we are Christians life will be gravy. But that isn’t the case. Sometimes it is even harder, because God is refining us. He is strengthening us. Because He has a good and perfect will, and because even the bad stuff can be used for good. Even the bad stuff, the missteps, the stuff that makes no sense, can be part of our testimony.

    So, yes. This is the day the Lord has made. And we will rejoice if it is good. And we will rejoice if it is bad.

    We will give Him the praise for all He will do today. Even if what He does isn’t what we consider “good.” We can rest assured, it will be good. In due time, it will most certainly be good.

    I do not own rights to video, lyrics, or music.

  • Staying truly connected

    One of the things we all crave is connection. We are all looking for someone with whom we can feel we can share our lives. Our secrets. Our dreams. Our hearts. We want connection. 

    Connection also requires vulnerability. Vulnerability requires us to bear all. Bearing all causes hurt. When we become hurt, we retreat, and the one thing we want to do most of all is disconnect. 

    In an effort to avoid the same pain. The same judgment. The same wounds. The same abandonment. The same rejections. The same patterns.

    I realize in my effort to avoid hurt, I became a staunch advocate for disconnection. Some of it was for good. I learned some good things from my time of burying my head in the sand so to speak.

    But I also learned that disconnecting is not always the answer.

    It keeps us from hearing about the ways in which we can be a healer in a hurting world.

    For instance, as I sat listening to the story of my fellow sister in Christ tell of a dying daughter, stuck in her native land of Liberia; I researched other missions in Liberia. I found so many things that I knew nothing of; simply because my hurt had caused me to disconnect. In my selfishness. In my focus on myself, I had shut out the voices of the needy around me.

    I learned that some of the very people that had encouraged me in the past, I had shut out simply because I had shut off some of the noise of some who hurt me.

    Case in point, when I heard the voice mail. I heard a voice of a woman who adored me. She missed me. Even if it was through a post. An encouraging message. When I saw another in the church cafe, I realized I hadn’t seen her in months, but she remembered me, because I had an encouraging word to speak. She was a partner in my ministry, and I had shut her out, simply because I wanted and needed to silence one or two negative voices. Because I focused on a few who had hurt or caused harm.

    But I did learn some valuable lessons. Disconnection revealed that sometimes you have to be your own cheerleader. That you have to dig down deep to find the core of who you desire yourself to be. Because when you disconnect. You find there are not that many people cheering you on any longer.

    That the one ones who do are often not the ones who live in the same area code as you. Even share the same family tree. When social media connections are cut, so are the connections and conversations. And no one comes looking for you. No one is cheering on your accomplishments. Or wishing you well on your next big test except those who have still been burning up the phone lines. You learn that some are actually willing to still come looking for you. Drop off goodies at your job. Swing by just to say hello. Check on you when you have been silent for a while.

    Some even in different zip codes. That’s true connection.

    You often learn that mere strangers can encourage you far more than those you thought actually “knew” you.

    You learn about “connection” when you disconnect.

    You learn that some were around just to keep up. Small towns are like this. We connect to see if you were really who “you used to be.” We all do it, and really, unless it’s for the reasons I’ll mention below, and we are not seeking a connection in order to have gossip worthy tea for girls night out to talk about the “boujee” pastor (wink, wink) or to make ourselves feel good for whatever reason…then just disconnect.

    Disconnection isn’t always good. But reconnecting in the same ole way isn’t what’s best either. Why? Because our way of connection is a facade. Connection is simply that. Connecting. Not putting on a false face or persona that we hope to portray for the outside world in the hopes that someone will resonate with it. We connect by reaching out to others in our broken down places. And I mean reaching. Not for our smart phones through a media app. I disconnected from over 500 Facebook friends for almost a year, and I felt more connected than ever. What’s that say?

    Connection is acts of mercy. Connection is seeking justice. Connection is loving the lost. Connection is showing love to the unloveable.

    Connection is encouragement. Building someone up. Showing support for someones accomplishment.

    Connection is choosing to accept someone who may be different than you, and being willing to at least LISTEN to their perspective.

    Connection is coming to the realization that we all grow, and instead of standing in crowds and gossiping about it, we can stand in awe and applaud someone’s growth together.

    Connection is raw, emotional, honest, true, intentional, genuine, and too often rare. In these days of darkness and despair, it is what we all desire and crave, and even with these apps at our fingertips it’s really what we have the least of.

    You want to be connected to me? Be a little less like that connected troll calling out that all the wayward ways of everyone’s past from high school in small towns, and be a little more like the connected qualities listed above. Otherwise, don’t be offended if your request is declined. I promise I’m not being “boujee,” just selective.

  • WWJD About My Tattoos?

    Tattoos. Mention them, and a number of opinions are generated from one simple word. Tattoo.

    “Oh, I could never.”

    “You know what it says in Leviticus.”

    I know what it says in Leviticus. I read the entire chapter. Every single word. It had much more to say than merely mentioning the abomination of people with tattoos.

    This paradox was the topic of conversation as I sat in the latest of many tattoo chairs. The artist, who did not subscribe to a religion persay, was actually surprised I was a pastor. And we had an entire conversation about tattoos and the Bible. He had his co-worker come by, and even guess what I did for a living (which is putting it mildly, because well…I am not a paid pastor). Why was this such a big topic of conversation? Rituals? Laws? That had nothing to do with love? Nothing to do with Jesus?

    So the question for today! What would Jesus do if he encountered someone with tattoos? Well, love them. He definitely would not judge the covering. Choose not to get to know their heart simply because they decided to tattoo one on their arm.

    Take a listen and feel free to weigh in on what YOU think Jesus would do! 

  • The Battle: Part 2

    I didn’t want to go.

    It is 7:45 pm. The service started at 7:15, so I am sure to have missed some of it anyway. What is the point in showing up 30 minutes late? Plus, I am exhausted, I have been in the nursery for 3 solid days and I could use this night off to simply sleep, right? I should just go back to my cabin and do just that.

    Those were the thoughts I had. But I didn’t skip it. I went to the service anyway. Sat through. Had a couple chuckles. Took a couple good notes. Thought, “Oh, that’s a good point.” Had a couple more points resonate.

    Until close to the end. The last point.

    “Salt causes pain.”

    The speaker Susie Shellenberger went on to describe the pain we as Christians can cause other people. The “salt” we can toss onto the wounds of others.

    Gossip. Criticism. Envy. Jealousy. Lack of encouragement. Sabotage. I had participated in some, and I had been a victim to all.

    Yes. Pastors are not immune to hurt. Pain. We have deep wounds that others throw salt on from time to time. But if that wasn’t the one piece of confirmation that was making me shake in my seat, it was what she said next that sealed it for me.

    She described a worship leader that ministered under King David, Asaph. Asaph was gifted. Talented. He could perform beautiful music, and he was on fire for God, but somewhere along the way he began to fall into the comparison trap, and questioned whether it was better just to give up. Questioned what ministry was all for.

    Did I keep my heart pure for nothing?
    Did I keep myself innocent for no reason? I get nothing but trouble all day long; every morning brings me pain. If I had really spoken this way to others, I would have been a traitor to your people. So I tried to understand why the wicked prosper. But what a difficult task it is! Psalm 73:13-16

    I felt that. All of it.

    Salt causes pain. We throw salt on already gaping wounds, and I had been an entree filled with salt-laden spots. I had endured criticism because I didn’t do things the “way they were done before.” Because I wasn’t like the person who came before me. On my job my work had been sabotaged because I was too loving, and kids liked me. Really…what it boiled down to? Good, old-fashioned, mean girl envy. A very hurtful kind. The kind that leaves you feeling depleted and defeated. I thought I had found my calling in ministry, but apparently people had other ideas.

    I wanted to give up. I saw no purpose in continuing to minister. What was God’s purpose in it all. If loving people was too much for some, and made people hate me? If being called meant criticism, comparison, or an ache that I was never going to measure up to the standards of some, then why keep going? This isn’t what I signed up for. I should be happy. Not constantly worrying if I was good enough.

    Or left wondering if He had just passed me over.

    I was Asaph. I was tired of seeing everyone prosper, and feeling like I was seeing no fruit, and being completely taken advantage of, or not seen for my heart.

    I didn’t want to come to this service.

    And I definitely didn’t want to do what happened next.

    Susie asked for anyone who had been hurt, or had salt thrown into wounds to raise their hands. I did. My act of obedience. No one would see me raise my hand. Quick. Put it up. Put it back down. God will see. I can get it over with. Be right with Him.

    But then I felt it. That shaking again. That shaking that meant uncontrollable tears were about to flow and I knew I was not going to be able to stay in my seat.

    God, please. I raised my hand. I obeyed. I really don’t need to go to the altar.

    But His response?

    Yes. Yes you do. You need to go and lay those hurts down at my feet. Lay all that has been said and done down, and pick up what I have for you, and only you.

    So I did.

    Yet I still belong to you; you hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel leading me to a glorious destiny. Whom have I in heaven but you? I desire you more than anything on earth. My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever. Psalm 73:23-26

    I was Asaph.

    I didn’t want to even go to that service. And I know if Satan had has his way, I would have been in my cabin sleeping.

    But I did.

    And I can’t say I know today what God wants from me. What God is asking me to do. I still grieve for things I can’t see. And there are still things I know I may never understand.

    But I know the battle is His. Every single part of it. All the parts that may seem scary and uncertain to me. All the parts that make me angry and bitter. All the parts that are still wounds that need healing.

    It’s His. And He will fight until the end for me.

    I do not own video, music, or lyrics.

    Enjoy the music shared in these posts on Mondays? Follow the playlist here on Spotify!

About Me

I am January! Wife, mother, meemaw, pastor, and mental health provider who makes it through the day with my coffee, my journal, and my God. A simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic. All focused on Him.

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