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    I’ll roll with it…and not quit

    Surrender. In common terms surrender is the act of giving up one’s power over something. In relation to God, it is one’s active choice to yield all decisions and all control to Him. Surrender is a bold act, and it is brave, courageous, and often we dive into it head first thinking that the road will be easy. The road to surrender is definitely not one of ease. It is bumpy. Full of fits and starts. Stop signs, and lanes that only seem to go one way. A roadblock up ahead, or two, or three.

    Surrender may make you want to renege on your decision to surrender it all. Like seriously just give up.

    Where am I going with this? Let me explain.

    I choose a word to define changes I plan on making each year. I don’t make resolutions, because my resolve is to always make sustainable, consistent, and everlasting change. Not a year-long goal that ends when the new ball drops. So this year: surrender. I felt His tug on my heart (and my brain and body) to stop moving, and allow Him to move. To stop trying to control everything, and let Him handle it. It hasn’t been easy, so I am sitting back, and letting things be a bit.

    Some things I have breezed through. Like a phone call later in the winter stating that there could be a barrier to preparation for my ordination service I hoped to be attending in July.

    Oh, well if you have that one class left you may have to wait until next year.

    He meant next year…like a whole new year. I really wanted it this year.
    So you know how I knew this surrender thing was working? Up to this point anyway…
    Because if this had been last year…you know like 2020 last year, I would have come undone. I would have been in a puddle of tears on the floor after that call. But I wasn’t.
    I just said to the advisor: It would be a disappointment to wait even longer after such a long time, and working this hard, for just one class…but if that’s what God wants. Then that’s His will. I’ll roll with it.

    Until, the time came. And another meeting came. And, well-I didn’t roll with it. I knew in my heart I was supposed to be surrendering. And, come on. That is what we all do, right? Thy will be done, God; but…can you please do it this way? In this amount of time for me? Thanks!

    That class did in fact become a hiccup, among some other things. And I do in fact have to wait another year. And, no…I didn’t roll with it. I broke down. I spent weeks in discouragement. Convinced I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t cut out for this. I had done something wrong. God was mad at me. I failed. I didn’t measure up, and I was just going to give up. And I told a beloved friend this. And this is what I heard…January, have you ever quit anything? Really, you haven’t have you? So why quit, now?”

    And he was right. I hadn’t. I always finished. I may have taken detours. Started at different times than others. Maybe a little later. Taken a little longer. Maybe even a break or two. But I always finished.

    I am not a quitter.

    And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns. Philippians 1:6

    So, I started that last class this week knowing it was the last one I would have to take, and knowing it was up to me to continue to surrender to His will in all of this. Even if it was not exactly the way I wanted it all to turn out.

    His timing. Not mine. Because if it had been up to me, I would not have quit that class back in December. I would have pressed through, exhausted, worn, and weary. And gotten nothing out of it.

    He knew I needed to wait.

    Because when I opened the book, read the intro and saw the author had also struggled with giving up in ministry. When I read about the heart to embolden women to walk in their unique purpose. When I felt the Spirit tugging and pulling at me-I knew this was the time.

    I had wanted to give up. Walk away. I quit the class out of necessity, but I was on the verge of quitting the journey all together.

    But He knew I was just in a waiting season.

    I just needed to be patient. I just needed more time.

    His time. Not mine. He knew I was not a quitter.

    I remember a poem I had to recite in 7th grade. Not read. Like memorize. Stand up in front of class and recite by memory. I still remember it. Still remember many of its lines. I will leave you with a couple of those lines today…emblazoned in the memory a woman, much older than that 7th grader, but still determined to never, ever quit.

    When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
    When the road you’re trudging seems all up hill,
    When the funds are low and the debts are high
    And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
    When care is pressing you down a bit,
    Rest if you must, but don’t you quit. -John Greenleaf

    Don’t you quit. Don’t you dare quit now just because it is taking a little longer. Don’t you dare let the devil’s ridiculous voice convince you to quit. You, you…you just keep rolling with it.

    So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up. Galatians 6:9


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    To be known

    I walked in the room, knowing I needed to apologize. Dinner in our home is definitely a time of interesting, and fiery conversation. The fiery ones center mostly on the state of virtual school. On any given night, one parent ends up being the bad cop, the good cop, or we both end up just being lame. Tonight, it was me.

    I wasn’t “bad.” I hadn’t yelled. We hadn’t had the dreaded school discussion that ends in stomping to rooms, but I hadn’t set a “good” example. Not one sprinkled with grace and acceptance.

    I had mocked someone we knew at the dinner table. Judged a situation, and judged the person in the situation.

    And any of you who haven’t committed this sin, be the first to cast a stone. I’ll wait.

    While I wait…and wait, I’ll explain my apology. If I feel my example has not been one of Christlike-ness; or let’s just say, if I KNOW, because the Spirit tells me it hasn’t, I will apologize. This means I will also apologize to my kids.

    Now, I know some don’t believe in this. But, the Bible is clear about how humble we must become to enter His kingdom:

    Then he said, “I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven.” Matthew 18:3, NLT

    Like children. So I’m not above apologizing to a child. Especially if I know that one is watching and learning from me.

    “I shouldn’t have said what I did tonight. Made fun of what happened. It was wrong. I am not going to justify my behavior. I should have explained my thoughts differently. It was wrong. I didn’t set an example, and it wasn’t kind.”

    The apology opened up a conversation about authenticity and belonging.

    See…I had left a space earlier that day feeling shunned and unwelcome. Like I was an intrusion. And I let it fester all day. To the point that I let the inauthentic response of another trigger me into anger, and a mean-spirited response.

    When I should have explained at dinner the importance of making others feel comfortable in all spaces. Allow others to be free to be themselves, so they don’t have to constantly “shape-shift,” and be less than themselves. To be inclusive to all. To make others feel a little less self-conscious, but rather accepted, seen, loved, and known.

    “I don’t want you to be 42 years old, and just figuring this out like I am.”

    As I sat typing out the words to this post, I reached for my phone to locate a verse I needed and found this…a note I had typed out in my phone over a year ago. A short “letter” I had written to the younger me.

    Dear Younger me,

    Choose your circle wisely. You should be loved by your peeps for who you are, not for who you pretend to be. If you have to change who you were made to be to fit into a space, that isn’t your space.

    And as I read it, I realized…though she thought it “cringy…” I had just said these exact same words, without my even knowing to a pretty spot-on, younger version of 13 year-old me.

    And no…I didn’t want her to have to figure all this out in another 30 years.

    And goodness, I am still trying to figure out many days who it is that God sees in me.

    Because that is what I want her to see: who God sees. Not what anyone in any room she may walk into may see. Because more often than not…they may not see ALL that God has given her. ALL her talent. ALL her gifts. ALL that makes her so uniquely special, and set apart.

    And it’s the same for you. There will be rooms you walk into where you may be known by name, but in which people still just don’t see you. You still don’t feel known. You will move in circles with people who don’t know who you really are, because you feel as if you have to cover up the real you. Play pretend. You may waste years and years trying to fit into spaces that will just never “fit” you, and who you are.

    Know this. Embrace it today.

    You are always seen and intimately known by God. He knows everything about you, and He still loves you. He has a place for you, and you never have to pretend, cover up; nor will you feel all alone.

    He sees the real you. The broken you. The insecure you. The too loud you. The shy you. The you trying to fit into spaces that make you cringe.

    He knows your name. He sees you. He loves you. He accepts you. You are known. You belong.


  • For those who seek Him

    Stories. We all use stories to make a point. Stories are a more interesting way to get a message across to people. A way to help others understand a concept that may be a little hard for others to grasp. Stories keep audiences engaged. Everyone loves a good story. Well, most everyone.

    “Why do you that? You speak in these crazy metaphors that make no sense.”

    They make sense to those actually asking me questions to learn something. To learn the truth.

    See, the one asking that question ended up working for a modern-day Judas. He was never going to understand the metaphor. He wasn’t looking for the right answer. He was digging in the dirt.

    I do use metaphors, or “stories,” when I speak. I do this a lot. Sometimes it is simply because I am a writer and a deep thinker, so my mind naturally thinks in the abstract. However, it is to often get the listener to also think about things differently…and to gauge whether they are really actually listening. And to determine what they are actually seeking.

    Someone else did this, too.

    Jesus. And no…I’m not Jesus. I’m called to be like him. But he spoke in parables, and he had a point in using them.

    Later when Jesus was alone with the twelve disciples and with the others who were gathered around, they asked him what the parables meant. He replied, “You are permitted to understand the secret of the Kingdom of God. But I use parables for everything I say to outsiders, so that the Scriptures may be fulfilled: When they see what I do, they will learn nothing. When they hear what I say, they will not understand. Otherwise, they will turn to me and be forgiven. Mark 4:10-12

    Yes. He spoke in parables to determine who was seeking truth. And who was just “faking it.” Who was going to understand him, and who simply could not. Who was a Peter, and who was a Judas. Who was a friend, and who was a betrayer. Who was gonna sit a while and reflect, ask questions, seek to understand, communicate through this “crazy metaphor;” or who was gonna decide it was to much and run back to where the silver was. All those things, but he also used them to determine who was ready to learn a bit more, and who needed a little more time. A little more nurturing.

    Now back to the “crazy metaphor” it was about a plant. Which if you knew the entire story… it really did have a lot to do with the question. If one was really seeking the truth.

    “It’s like that plant over there. It’s dying now. But before, it was over here. And it was only withered a little bit. And the soil was just a little dry. All someone had to do was water it. Keep it over here in its original environment, and give it some more water. But someone decided it needed to be over there in that windowsill, in the bright sun. That’s not a bright sun plant. It’s in the wrong environment. And now it’s dying. Study your environment some more. Some of your plants aren’t in good soil.”

    Truth seekers. They will move the plant back to the good soil.

    Fakers. Won’t get that they needed to change the soil they were in. Or just give the plant a bit more water.

    That was the purpose of the metaphor.

    That was the purpose of the parables of Jesus. And we saw so many did not understand his words. So many saw him as crazy. Simply didn’t listen. Turned away from him. Or worse-persecuted him.

    But others did understand.

    Jesus used many stories and illustrations to teach the people as much as they could understand. In fact, in his public ministry he never taught without using parables; but afterward, when he was alone with his disciples, he explained everything to them. Mark 4:33-34

    Want to distinguish yourself between the seeker and the faker? The one who understands, and the one who runs away? Ask the questions. Ask about the stories. Ask about the Bible. Have someone you trust, and who knows Jesus, explain it to you. That is how you will see and learn; hear and understand; turn and be forgiven.

    That is the purpose of the stories for those who seek Him.


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    Do it anyway

    I woke up that morning, after deciding at some point in the middle of the night that I was giving up. I had finally waved the white flag of defeat.

    On what, exactly? Prayer. Not all prayer. Just a specific one.

    As I sat in my favorite chair, I glanced down at my old, worn out Bible. The one I knew had prayers written in it. I picked up a different one. “Lord show me. Lead me. Help me. Tell me what I need to do for you today.” It was something I had been asking of Him daily, surrendering to His will. Trying to be still, and listen, and listen to His voice so I wasn’t moving ahead of Him (or waving that white flag too soon…oops).

    “Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you.” Matthew 7:7, NLT

    The verse that began my daily devotional. And so I looked down and caught a glimpse of that old, worn out Bible. The one I had tossed to the side, and I heard this: “I never told you not to pray. You decided that on your own. What are you going to do?”

    What WAS I going to do? White flag, remember?

    I picked it up. That Bible. Surrender. That’s my word. And opened to this:

    Then the Lord said to Job, “Do you still want to argue with the Almighty?
    You are God’s critic, but do you have the answers?” Job 40:1-2,NLT

    I did. Boy, did I want to argue with God. I was weary from prayer. I felt those prayers were fruitless. I had been burdened with those prayers, and I still for the life of me did not understand the purpose.

    But I did it anyway. I found a sticky note. Prayed over it. And then surrendered it to God.

    I did it anyway.

    “Lord show me. Lead me. Help me. Tell me what I need to do for you today.”

    When you ask Him these things, He will show you. Lead. Help. Tell. You may not like what you hear. You may be tired. Weary. Sick of the burden.

    But…do it anyway.


  • Which one will you choose?

    I trekked up the hill to my old “quiet place” to get alone with God. To be alone to allow Him to fill me with peace during an otherwise stressful week. One with deadlines galore, and tasks to be completed before a break could be taken. Time to be reminded of what made this week so holy.

    The hill to the three crosses behind our church was certainly not as steep as the hill Jesus climbed on that Friday morning. The trek was not as hard. I did not take a beating on the way up. Nor did I suffer. My “soul was not crushed with grief to the point of death,” as Jesus’ had been (Mark 14:34, NLT)

    However, the climb was different than times before. It was littered with a couple stray beer bottles, and once at the top I noticed the middle cross…you know, the one representing Jesus, was broken. Now one wooden pillar in the middle. The wind up here was colder. It didn’t feel as calm and peaceful up here as it once did. It felt eerie. I was sure the serpent, Satan, would at some point come slithering from the tree behind me.

    I was jumpy. Agitated. Paranoid. The exact opposite of what I climbed this hill to find.

    Peace.

    “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” Mark 15:34, NLT

    As Jesus sat kneeling in the Garden of Gethsemane, he certainly had to lack peace. As each leaf shook, each branch broke, each breeze blew through the trees; I can imagine in his humanity he must have become jumpy and paranoid from the sounds of those coming to take him to his death.

    But when he thought of his purpose, despite the pain, he had peace: “Yet I want your will to be done, not mine” (Mark 14:36, NLT).

    And what was that will?

    But the other criminal protested, “Don’t you fear God even when you have been sentenced to die? We deserve to die for our crimes, but this man hasn’t done anything wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.” And Jesus replied, “I assure you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Luke 23:40-43

    Yes. Jesus is the one in the middle. On that broken middle cross that I sat under. But he wasn’t the only cross erected there on that hill that fateful day.

    There were two more. One on the left. One on the right.

    He came to save them both. But only one went to paradise with him. He came to save us all. But only some will choose him. Some will choose his peace.

    Which one are you? Which one are you today?

    Do you want to keep saving yourself and stay on the path that leads away from paradise, or come into the kingdom with Jesus?

    Which one will you choose?


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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