Hello, I’m January
Inspiration and thoughts on God and faith, written by a simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic.
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No longer the broken one
I write to get things off my chest. I didn’t for a time. And those things, they took root in my soul and grew bitter fruit. Things I thought forgiven, lay buried underneath the surface. Waiting for a season of isolation to burst forth all that needed to come out from hiding. All that needed to be reckoned with. All that needed to finally be laid down at His feet. Surrended to the one who should really be carrying it.
Come to me. All you who carry heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28
Back in December I read a book that at the time altered my response to all the pain I was going through and feeling. When I read, I do so for pleasure, but I also try to take one sliver of something I read and apply it to my life. Otherwise, what’s the point of adding books to a “read” list. Head knowledge is no good without application. In it, the author, described her letting go of her nine year old self, and the burden of carrying that nine year old version around for most of her life.
I could totally relate, but what was the heavy burden I was carrying? It wasn’t nine year old me, but it was a 17 year old version. The version of me I could not rescue. I carried her in every kid I spoke a little too loudly for. Every student I stormed into rooms for demanding their voices be heard, even if I wasn’t invited.
She screamed out each time she felt not listened to. Was interrupted. She became a little more brazen. A little tougher in speech. A bit more bold. A bit harder to deal with and rough around the edges.
She refused to remain silent.
Silence was the driving force behind the forward motion of many events she could not be rescued from. Through each daily act of present bravery, I was taking back that 17 year olds power. Giving back what was stolen.
But it was exhausting. It cost a ton. It was anxiety filled. And it kept me stuck in the past cycle of defeat. A cycle God wanted me to release.
And I hear Him say: Surrender. Lay it down at my feet. This burden wasn’t yours to carry then, but you did brave girl. You did. Don’t carry it now. Give it to me. Let me do the recusing. He gently says, “Just give her back to me.”
So I do. In the stillness of a gray, winter morning. Christmas lights twinkling. Hot coffee in front of me. I close my eyes, and I surrender. I take her to the altar. I picture it. She doesn’t look much different than me. Still small and very fragile looking, but strong and brave in ways you wouldn’t believe. Dark, curly pony-tail bouncing, but head bowed in shame. She walks beside me. Dependent on me to protect her, speak up for her, help her hold her head high.
I whisper to her as she bows at the foot of the cross. “It’s OK. You were not asked. You weren’t given a choice. You didn’t know your voice. I’ve tried to rescue you, but He will now. He will.”
I step back. And I let God take her in His arms.
Knowing I held her, and I protected her and those like her in the best way I could.
And then I let Him hold me.
And in the that moment in the place of that dumpster, because that’s what I saw for many years; a dumpster when I thought of her. I see a cross.
Instead of a symbol of trash, I see a symbol of grace. Instead of a symbol of worthlessness, I see a symbol of my immense worth. Instead of a symbol of all the ways I was unacceptable. Unloved. I see a symbol of His unfailing love.
You’re not the worthless they made you feel
There is a Love they can never steal away
And you don’t have to stay the broken girl. Matthew West, Broken GirlI left her there, and finally decided to honor me. All He had done for me, while I carried her around, and what He could do once I surrendered her.
No longer unworthy. Loved beyond measure. Unbroken.
I don’t own rights to video, lyrics, or music.
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WWJD: Love that never ends
Love never looks back, but keeps going to the end. Love never dies. 1 Corinthians 13, MSG
In the last several weeks, I have gone through the various aspects of love that Paul speaks of in 1 Corinthians 13. Today, I wrap up the truth about that elusive and often misunderstood “Love Chapter.” We now know the love we are called to show, the love that reflects God and His Son requires patience, kindness, has no room for envy, or selfishness; and desires the truth be heard and told.
We all want love. We all want to be loved. Even more-we all want a love that never ends. But are we looking in the wrong places? Are we rejecting the One who can deliver on this?
Love. It is the thing we all crave. We all want to feel connected to someone who accepts us. Every messy part. Love is one of our deepest desires, and can also be one of our deepest hurts. Because we often focus on earthly love. The kind we desperately seek from each other. The kind that often disappoints. Too busy at times to meet our needs. It doesn’t always put up with our flaws, or even accept us. It can sometimes be selfish, and fail us.
And it fails us because we forget its source.
Its source comes from the love of the Father. Our Heavenly Father.
It’s the thing that God purposed, because it was important to Him-for us to know love. So important the word alone appears 551 times in the New International Version of the Bible. It is mentioned in relation to God’s presence. It is mentioned to describe how He expects us to love others. It is more than just a mere word.
The word “love” is thrown around between people all the time. It is used to quantify how we feel about things, and flippantly said to people. For instance, I say all the time I love tacos. I could eat tacos every day. I enjoy many versions of tacos, and I like to cook them-a lot.
Yes, love is a really strong word. Not the same as “like.” See, because I really only like tacos. I am not so sure I should be using “love” to describe how fond I am of them.
This is why: It cheapens the full extent of what love truly is. When I say I love this, or I love that; or say “I love you, too” out of obligation; It is often due to what I am getting out of that thing, or from that someone.
See, tacos feed me. They don’t provide any additional support beyond my plate. No…that kind of “love” only feeds my cravings and desires.
And it will most certainly die. When that craving or desire for that thing fades, so will the “love.”
Because love is more than mere words. It’s more than a mere desire or craving. It doesn’t die away once the need is met; and it’s not waiting around to get something in return. Jesus loved and cared for a number of people who could never give Him anything in return. There wasn’t anything Jesus needed, besides others to just know His Daddy. And His Daddy went through great lengths to make sure we knew His love was for real. Unfailing, and would never die.
God went that far for us because loves goes the distance. It goes the extra mile. And it goes after that which has been lost.
I recall this story told one Sunday morning during a missions service at church. I can’t recall the speaker, but I do recall him telling a story of a woman who would enter the church each Sunday, sit on the front row, and save a seat for her loved one. In the hopes they would one day be seated next to her.
Because love goes the distance. It shows up. Even if it is in vain each and every time, with the expectation that one day, the one we love will show up beside us, part of our Heavenly family.
She was serious about it, and He was, too. So serious about it, He has been in heavy pursuit of you since the beginning. Long before you ever knew of Him. Long before you may ever accept Him, and He continues to pursue us. To woo us, until we finally say yes.
Love goes the extra mile. It doesn’t get to this point and decide-nope. This is as far as I will come to get to that one. It goes further and further and further. Reaching and reaching and reaching, until it is finally accepted.
“Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and lost one. Wouldn’t you leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the lost one until you found it? When found, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home call in your friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Celebrate with me! I’ve found my lost sheep!’ Count on it—there’s more joy in heaven over one sinner’s rescued life than over ninety-nine good people in no need of rescue.” Luke 15:4-7, MSG
Like that. He pursues the one, over the 99 that already know Him, just so that lost one will know His love. Yes, it is THAT serious to Him.
It surrenders all. All its own needs, wants, and wishes. It’s hatred, jealousy, and feelings. Its own son. Its own life.
Love is often unexplainable. Not measurable. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, and it can seem reckless to the one who doesn’t know the unfailing love of God. They can’t understand why we would keep going, sacrifice ourselves so someone could know who He is, and how much He loves. It looks reckless to those who don’t believe. It just won’t make sense.
Because God’s love is what is referred to as “agape” love. Making a conscious choice to love someone unconditionally. Willfully desire the best for them. Place their needs above yours. Unfailingly.
Paul was right when he stated that love kept going to the end, because the love of God has no end. It reaches into the darkest places to yank us out into the light. Forgiving. Redeeming. And never bringing the past up again.
That kind of love is the kind of love that’s undying, and its offered to you from the only One who can truly keep the promise: “I will never leave you or abandon you?” (Hebrews 13:5) He is pursuing you. Everyday. Are you going to finally say “yes” to His undying love?
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“I’m fine.” But is that the truth?
I wrote a post recently about truth. In it I shared the importance of telling the truth to those we love. As I thought more after I posted it, and after I reflected on truth some more in the passing days, I thought about this: Are we telling the truth to ourselves? What about the truth of what we feel inside? Are we sharing this? And what would happen if we did? Would we be accepted? Or shamed?
So we hold back the truth. We lie.
Lie number one you’re supposed to have it all together
And when they ask how you’re doing
Just smile and tell them, “Never better” (Matthew West, Truth Be Told)Put on a happy face. Pretend that before you got here. Clocked in. Walked on stage. Came down to dinner. Greeted your family. Your co-workers. Your friends. That you were not just crying on your bathroom floor. Or just thinking how worthless you were. Had a fight with your wife. Got bad news from the doctor. Or had someone leave you.
Put on that happy face. Pretend it’s all good. Smile. Look pretty. Happy. Even if inside you are anything but.
Lie number 2 everybody’s life is perfect except yours
So keep your messes and your wounds
And your secrets safe with you behind closed doorsPerfection is not the truth. Yet we look at the filtered lives of others and assume theirs is just that-perfect. And when ours doesn’t measure up to that, we hide our pain. We hide our mess. We filter our lives to draw some type of comparison. None of it is the truth.
Truth be told…none of us have it all together. No life is perfect. Many filter out the bad stuff so you only see what is good.
Truth be told. We lie about the scars we hide because we are afraid of what people will think. That once people know what hides within they will run and hide from us. That if others see our brokenness, then we will be found out, shamed, criticized, and shunned. So we continue our farce. It just seems safer there.
What if we admitted we are not fine? That we were sad. Bitter. Grieving. Wrestled with doubt. Wondered about our purpose. What if we told each other the truth?
What if we put away our “fake faces,” our prettied up lives that aren’t real and are a facade, and shared what makes us so not fine?
Truth be told? We’d probably be a bit more “fine” than we are now. Feel a bit more accepted. Perhaps a little less broken.
Think it’s time to tell each other the truth?
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Sending into the void
It was like any kid conversation. A stuffed animal. Used to talk about feelings. But not a typical day. Not really sure why exactly.
I hadn’t felt God answering me. I hadn’t understood the good in many things. I was emotional.
The one place I felt effective many days was here, in one of my many counseling spaces; because I had been setting some boundaries, and after many years of taking it home, I was finally learning to leave it here. Not take it personal. Not take on too much. Too much that wasn’t mine.
“Oh, no the turtles hurt.” To which I asked what exactly the turtle did once he got hurt. “He asks Jesus to heal his wounds.”
I knew this was true. But I’m a skeptic in these situations now. I don’t trust where these questions come from some days. Where these conversations lead. I don’t trust that there could be an ulterior motive.
I don’t always like my doubting spirit.
“Yes. He may take a while to answer because he’s busy. But he always answers.” That’s what the child said to me. He always answers. He just takes a while. That was a solid answer. Because it was biblical.
He will bind up your wounds. He will answer when you call on him.
But see…I had been calling on him. For a REALLY long time. But I wasn’t so convinced he was listening.
And on that morning in particular, I was only focused on the things I couldn’t see. On the answers he hadn’t given me. On the prayers I just didn’t have the heart to pray anymore that morning, because I was so frustrated with the waiting.
Until I had someone say to me the very next day when I was discussing these prayers, and his silence, “Have you asked?” Of course I had. I had asked him every morning. Hadn’t I?
So on one particular morning, I asked him this: Lord, show me. Show me that all of this wasn’t for nothing. That all this praying and anything that I did for you will work out for your good. Just show me.
And I waited. And once again I heard nothing.
Until…
That morning we had a training at church. During our training we were placed into groups to share our thoughts on a number of questions. I can’t exactly recall one of the questions…the only thing I recall is the moment she pulled out the Bible. Her Bible. The moment she said, “I write little messages in it, so when I’m gone; they (her children) will have a piece of me, and will be able to know about Him, and what this means. It’s my legacy to them.”
I heard that, and then I heard this: “I told you, my word once sent out, will not return void.” It was a promise God had given to Isaiah that His Word would accomplish what He wanted it to-changed hearts, restored souls, for good, to bring light into the darkness. And isn’t that what I had been praying for all along?
And I lost it. I ran and hid in the bathroom and had a good cry.
Why?
Well, God hadn’t been silent. I was expecting my answer when I wanted it; and He…well, He answered during His time.
See, for quite some time I had written messages in a Bible also. I had given that Bible with all its messages in the hopes that His word would be understood, clung to, and touch hearts. I just couldn’t see the fruit, and it was bugging me.
Her Bible. His still small voice. It was a reminder, that the promise that God had been repeating to me from Romans 8:28, would be seen…even if I was not completely convinced it was true in this case. The promise that all things would “work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.”
So back to 7 year old faith.
He is working things out for good. He is healing. His spirit is working. He does hear us, and he is working on it; it’s just not in our time, it’s in His time. What we want right now, God knows…we may just have to wait.
But it doesn’t mean we can’t attach sticky notes, and messages to Bibles and continue our legacy. Sending out His word to fill the void.
In it…he’s still at work. If we believe like a child believes, and keep asking. Keep praying. Keep sending.
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Dandelions and Jesus
My 7th year. I am coming to the end of my 7th year of this counseling youth gig. Of stepping inside schools to hopefully provide safe space for those that just need a breath of fresh air. A minute away from pressure. Someone to guide and direct them to share and express their feelings in a way that is healthy.
For the first couple years, I hid God while in those schools. Hid my Bible verse tattoos. Hid my Bible. I was scared to mention His name. Mention anything related to Him because well, I walk the halls of public schools. That is a “no-no” in these halls. The one year I did shed the long-sleeve shirts, and left my Bible in plain view? Well, that was a year filled with strife and battles. Pain. Heartache. Opposition. One I will never forget.
But…I don’t hide Him anymore.
While I don’t walk the halls thumping people over the head with a Bible, when I have an office, I still keep a Bible in it. I still pray daily before each session with each client. I still wear my cross and my Bible verse tattoo out in the open. I don’t hide, but I don’t shout it from the rooftops. Public school, remember?
So, I have found it interesting that even though I never say His name, these are the conversations I seem to be having week in and week out?
“If I wish on this dandelion do you think God will hear me?” This is the question I was asked as we went on our weekly “walk and talk.” Originally, I was surprised by the question. He had never mentioned God in our conversations before, and neither had I; so why now? And how did he know I was safe?
And I realized, I never had to mention Him by name.
Those who say they live in God should live their lives as Jesus did. 1 John 2:6
He knew to mention God because I had shown God to him. Through my actions. I never had to say a single word about Him, I simply had to show up and be like Jesus in each and every encounter on those walks.
How? Quite simple, really. I was known by my fruit (Matthew 7:16). The ones mentioned in Galatians 5:22-23. Those of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. I never had to say one word about the Bible. Never had to mention Jesus by name. I just had to be like Him, and people saw Him in me.
This teen, though too cool for school most days. Angry, yelling and ready to yell back at any adult most days. Taller and much better at basketball than me, wasn’t too cool that day to stop and make wishes on dandelions. He also wasn’t too cool to ask tough questions about God, or even talk about him at school.
Why? Because someone had been patient. Someone had been kind. Someone had been gentle with their words. Shown self-control in their responses when he was upset.
Someone was Jesus.
I have had many conversations about Jesus prior to this day. I don’t tell people in my secular role that I am a pastor. Once they find out they often treat me differently, or are more guarded. I simply try each day to be Jesus with skin on as I walk into a session with each person who is sitting with me. Whether wishing on dandelions, shooting baskets, or playing a game. I try to be an example of Him everywhere I go.
Some may have tried to diminish that light before, but like dandelions-the hard to kill weed-the light can survive and thrive in the most hard to reach places. It grows in conditions that seem unfathomable (even out of concrete sidewalks), and it’s hard to miss their bright yellow blooms, or their dry seed heads in an open field. It’s hard not to want to pick one up and make a dandelion wish.
It’s hard not to notice the light of Jesus, when you are displaying His fruit.
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; and I am also on some days a hot mess. A simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic.
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Grace 'n Grounds 