I'm going to share something a bit personal with you. I've been battling some fear and anxiety lately. I decided to be open about it because it's a struggle we all wrestle with at one time or another. My tendency is to wallow in it for a while. Sometimes staying in bed and crying seems easier than meeting it head on.
Satan wants us to live in fear. Once it takes root he pokes and prods at us. He confuses us. He tells us that our struggles are forever. He tells us that nobody understands or cares. He tells us we’re alone.
But guess what? We are not alone. Scripture tells us to bring it to God, so that's what I've been doing. As I prayed the other day I realised that God has already been working on this with and for me. Many times in the previous weeks and months, if I was feeling sad or frightened, I'd get an unexpected text or call from church family to encourage me. Or often a verse would show up on my bible app, social media or in some other way, just when I needed it. I've heard or seen many of the same verses repeatedly, through many different people or means. That's not coincidence...that was my Heavenly Father reminding that He is always with me and that I can hand all that worry over to Him.
Here are some of the bible verses that have helped me to battle fear and anxiety:
I wanted to make sure I have these handy whenever I need them, so I made a mini book to put in my handbag. I thought you might find it helpful and encouraging too, so I've made the mini book available to download and print out. Get it HERE, then watch the short video below to learn how to quickly fold the page to create the mini book.
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One night, Pastor Jim woke up to a miniature tornado with lightning coming down through it. He thought he’d left his window open and that a storm was literally blowing through his bedroom. He stood up to turn the light on, so that he could close the window.
As he flicked the light switch, Pastor Jim noticed that the window wasn’t open at all. Instead, in the chair next to it sat Satan, with the storm swirling all around him. Over the decades, Pastor Jim had seen God move mountains, so with absolute confidence and without hesitation, he didn’t bat at eyelash before saying, “Oh, it’s just you.” He then turned off the light, climbed back into bed and went back to sleep.
When I first heard this story it terrified me! I was skeptical that it really happened that way and thought maybe Pastor Jim dreamed the experience. Nonetheless, it still scared the wits out of me.
Fast forward a few decades to my own similar experience. A few years ago, I woke up in the middle of the night with an uneasy feeling that kept growing, as I went from groggy to fully awake. I was aware of weight against my back, which I assumed was my husband spooning me as he slept. It should have felt normal and comforting, but instead I felt anxious and afraid...and when I heard the clacking of my husband’s keyboard in the other room, I realized why...it wasn’t my husband in bed with me. I’d gone to bed early, but he had stayed up for a late night game session. I was fully awake, yet I still felt someone, or something wrapped around me. The presence of evil was heavy and oppressive. It was alarming, it was overwhelming, and it was very, very real. A demon had showed up in my bedroom.
The fear was paralysing. But, at that moment I remembered Pastor Jim’s story. I finally understood why I’d heard it all those years ago, and that the power of the Holy Spirit is truly supernatural. If you believe in God, then you have to believe in Satan. If you believe in Good, then you have to believe in Evil. Those of us in first world countries often forget or downplay that the supernatural is as real as our physical world, but missionaries who have been to remote places will often say they have seen or experienced incredible things. While the ultimate victory is already won, praise God, the enemy is still fighting to take as many souls down with him as he can. The battle is going on all around us.
Thankfully, I’d heard Pastor Jim’s story all those years ago and knew to call upon the Holy Spirit. I pushed out the words, “In Jesus’ name, I rebuke you. Get out. Get out,” then began to pray. Immediately, the weight lifted off of me and the feeling of oppression disappeared.
I’m telling you this story from a place of victory. I hope I never have such an experience again, but the thought of it no longer strikes fear in me, like it did back then. It’s not that I don’t take the enemy seriously. I just know that I have an infinitely stronger weapon in the armor of God. I can take up the Sword of the Spirit and stand on His Word. There is no reason to fear because I serve a God who can and does move mountains.
I hope that the enemy never shows up in your bedroom, but if he does, may you be empowered by mine and by Pastor Jim’s stories. When you have the Holy Spirit, you have all you need. Satan has zero, zip, zilch, nada. The enemy has no choice but to flee in the presence of God. You can stand on that Truth.
Here's How I Know
The armor of God, described by the Apostle Paul in Ephesians 6:10-20 is our defense against the enemy. God provides 6 elements of armor, plus prayer to strengthen and prepare us for spiritual battles. Put your armor on daily and you'll be equipped for battle when the enemy attacks.
More Scripture to Encourage You
Find the entire Patchwork Print Collection here.
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The Bible is a book about God and by spending time in it, we learn about His character, His love for us and His will for our lives. It transforms us and helps us learn to be imitators of Jesus. It keeps us from sin. Reading the Bible teaches us the Truth and shapes us into disciples that are eager to share the Gospel with others. The Bible points to God’s glory in every chapter.
Despite knowing how important reading the Bible is, I think it’s safe to say that most of us are not particularly disciplined when it comes to doing so on a consistent basis. With this in mind, here are 8 tips to help you develop a consistent Bible reading habit.
I want to encourage you to just get started and don’t get discouraged if all doesn’t go according to plan. Even the best laid plans sometimes go awry. There will be times that your alarm doesn’t go off or you’ll be sick or you’ll forget or whatever. Satan loves to make you feel guilty when this happens, which just makes you less likely to read your Bible. Remember, you are saved by grace! If you find yourself caught in this guilt cycle, tell the enemy to go away, and you stay the course. Jesus won’t dwell on the fact that you didn’t read the Bible yesterday because He’ll be delighting in the time you spend with Him today!
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I began this year with a single resolution: to depend less on myself and more on Jesus. It was a challenge extended by one of our pastors while he preached on Psalm 121 during the last sermon of 2018. We’re 2 weeks into 2019 and my resolution is going the way that most New Year’s resolutions go...I’m already failing big time!
This world celebrates autonomy and powering through struggles in one’s own strength. We’re often taught myths like, “The Lord helps those who help themselves.” or “God will never give you more than you can handle on your own.” These statements aren’t biblical and they set us up for disappointment. Instead, we should model the writer of Psalm 121, who cries out to the Lord because he recognises that he should look to Him for help in ALL things.
Since that sermon, our pastor’s words have been echoing in my head, “Walk in the freedom that Christ has won for you through His death and resurrection.” So while most years I am discouraged when I inevitably blow my New Year’s resolutions, this year, I’m encouraged instead. I am a work in progress, but I worship a God who has already saved me from the curse of sin. He knows me! He knows my forgetfulness. He knows my weaknesses. He knows my needs. There is purpose in all of my suffering. My Father never falls asleep on the job and He will not allow my foot to be moved!
Although it’s God who changes us, a personal relationship with Him begins with knowing His Son, Jesus. Spending time in prayer each and every day is a good start. On my own I have a tendency to get distracted or often can’t be bothered, but in fellowship, I’m reminded that a relationship is a two-way street. I would like to encourage everyone, myself included, to be more intentional in our relationship with our Saviour.
Do you feel like you need to make more time for Jesus? Then join me for a 30 day prayer challenge! Together we’ll use simple tools and work on strategies that will help you create habits that lead to an intimate relationship with Christ. Register below to join us.
This print is a free gift for anyone who wants it. There's a very special story about how I came to that decision. You can read about it below.
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When I was a teen, I read a book called Run, Baby, Run by Nicky Cruz. It’s the story of the author’s conversion from a depraved and violent gang life to becoming a Christian evangelist. I've probably read a couple thousand books since then, but this is the only book that has stuck with me for all these years. It was so gritty, honest and compelling, that I still remember how profoundly moved I felt while reading it. Jesus was the focus from about halfway through, yet somehow I either forgot or completely missed that it's a Christian book!
Recently I stumbled across a tattered vintage copy, so I bought it and reread it. I was shocked to discover that a lot of the symbolism I now use in my artwork, is in the book. I can trace seeds of my faith back 30+ years to Run, Baby Run! Nicky Cruz has no idea that he is part of a journey that saved me, but rereading his book has ignited in me a stronger desire to be obedient about planting seeds that may someday be part of someone else's journey to becoming a Christian. Go and make disciples...that’s the Gospel mission.
Three decades after first reading the book, I asked my pastor what people mean when they say, “God told me...” He answered that it’s different for everyone, and doesn’t necessarily mean they actually hear God speak. Although it can. He said that for him it may be as simple as someone popping into his head, so he texts them a word of encouragement. Another way is that God sometimes speaks through others. He then shared personal testimony about how a stranger shared a powerful message with him that was clearly from God, because it directly related to something He was currently doing in my pastor’s life.
It’s not my story to tell, but what I can say is that it was an amazing demonstration of how God enters into personal relationships with us. When we seek Him, pay attention, and test everything against scripture, we really do hear God. We FEEL HIS PRESENCE because we serve a supernatural God. He came to us in the flesh as Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit dwells within us. Our King is alive and every moment, of every day, He is with us.
A few years ago I woke up in the middle of the night with an uneasy feeling that grew, as I went from groggy to fully awake. The weight of my husband against my back should have felt normal and comforting, but instead it just felt wrong. When I heard the clacking of my husband’s keyboard in the other room, I remembered that I’d gone to bed early, but he had stayed up for a late night game session. I was suddenly filled with terror. Almost paralysed by fear and breathlessness, I pushed out the words, “In Jesus’ name, I rebuke you. Get out. Get out,” then began to pray. The weight lifted off me and the feeling of oppression disappeared. I tried to convince myself it was only a bad dream, but I knew that I’d been wide awake.
I hope I never have such an experience again, but the thought of it no longer strikes fear in me, like it did back then. It’s not that I don’t take the enemy seriously. I just know that I have an infinitely stronger weapon in the armour of God. I can take up the Sword of the Spirit and stand on His Word. There is no reason to fear...our King is alive.
Our King is alive in the pastor who trusts God’s plan so fully that not even mouth cancer robs him of his joy in the Lord, or stops him from speaking the Truth.
Our King is alive in the mother who thanks Him for every moment she has with her critically ill child and praises the Lord through it all.
Our King is alive in the man who walks into a shop and joyfully delivers a powerful, 20 minute gospel message to a perfect stranger because he can’t contain the Good News.
Our King is alive in the army of believers who cry out to the Lord in the midst of storms, and sing praise even more loudly when it’s the most difficult to do so.
Since that conversation with my pastor a few years ago, I’m much more aware of how God speaks to me. As an artist, I’m very visual, so He often speaks to me through particular pictures He paints in my head. During a recent powerful sermon about the presence of God, one of our pastors quoted Matthew 16:18 and another one of God’s paintings appeared clearly in my mind. It was a view across Belfast Lough, with 7 churches, that represented the Gospel spreading out across Ireland and beyond. God told me to paint it, make copies and give them away. I don’t know how to explain it...I just knew it’s what He wanted me to do.
We all have our callings and spiritual gifts, and this happens to be mine. I felt that God specifically wants me to make 500 copies and give them to anyone who wants them. It’s a big ask. Although I want to be obedient, giving away a ton of prints doesn’t make financial sense, especially during my slowest time of year. I even argued with Him about it. I said, “Really, God? I’m 100% on board with generosity, but a girl’s gotta pay some bills!” I’ve been asking God to help me trust Him on this, and to make a way for it to happen.
So I prayed hard about it and did what I felt God told me to do...I began to paint the image He’d put in my head. After a couple days, the painting finally mirrored the vision God gave me.
A few days later, I was in my shop. It’s not uncommon for people to approach me and express their appreciation for my Christian art or tell me that a certain verse is particularly meaningful to them. But this day felt more personal. Throughout the entire day, people repeatedly came into my shop, shared their testimonies, and quoted scripture that felt relevant to me. It all felt very connected to the prayer with which I started my day.
By the time the last person left, I was moved to tears. He’d stood at my counter and pretty much delivered a powerful sermon on trusting God’s plan, protection and provision. He even came back the following morning, told me he’d been thinking about our conversation, and felt urged to talk to me again. He looked me in the eye, extended his arms high in praise, and loudly proclaimed, “Thus says the Lord, upon this rock I will build my church!” My knees went weak and I nearly fell over. That’s exactly what my painting is about! I had never heard that verse before, but in the course of that week I'd seen and heard it several times. You can't get much clearer that that!
And remember that little issue of how to pay for the prints? I hadn't mentioned this to anyone, yet on the way out of church the following morning, someone pressed something into my hand. It was exactly enough money to pay for the printing costs. God is in every detail.
Satan hates seeing the Gospel spread. He is prowling like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. He is actively seeking to destroy us. BUT GOD is building His church, and the enemy can’t do anything about it. Through God’s people, in His presence, the Gospel is being spread and the Church IS growing!
God speaks to ALL of us. Back when I read Run, Baby Run God was speaking to me, even though I didn’t know it yet. He often plants seeds through His people. That’s why this print is a free gift to you, and why there is another to pass on to someone else.
We are a people of God’s presence. Pray boldly. Call out to our Abba Father. Listen for Him, because He DOES speak to us.Trust in Him. All the garbage weighing you down, crushing you...you don't understand it yet, but God has a plan. Maybe your life feels hopeless right now, but God is working everything together for good in the future of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. It's about redemption. It's about reconciliation. It's about restoration.
Our King is alive and He is building His church. Not even the gates of hell will prevail against it!
I have prayed that these prints will open opportunities for you to share the Gospel with someone. I'd appreciate your prayers for my ministry and hope that you will use whatever gifts, place or platform that God has given you to share your testimony, plant seeds, build relationships...to go and make disciples.
]]>1. For I, the Lord your God hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not. I am the one who helps you.” Isaiah 41:13
2. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent. Exodus 14:14
3. God is our refuge and our strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Psalm 46:1
4. For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love and self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7
5. I prayed to the Lord, and He answered me. He freed me from all my fears. Psalm 34:4
6. When I am afraid, I put my trust in You. Psalm 56:3
7. So we can confidently say, “ The Lord is my helper; I will not fear. What can man do to me?” Hebrews 13:6
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Let us not love in word or talk, but in deed and in truth. 1 John 3:18
What John was basically saying here is that talk is cheap. Love is an action. We serve others sacrificially because we love them. Jesus loved us so much that He died on the cross for us and He wants us to love each other as He loved us.
Throughout my childhood my dad demonstrated a wonderful example of loving like Jesus, although I didn't understand it back then. He worked long, hard hours in a factory Monday-Friday. Every day he arrived home sweaty and exhausted. If I were him, I'd have spent Saturdays doing absolutely nothing.
My dad had a different agenda though. On many Saturdays, instead of sleeping in, he was up at the crack of dawn to spend the day at his aunt's house mowing the lawn, pulling weeds, trimming bushes, painting whatever needed painting and fixing whatever needed fixing.
My great aunt could have paid someone to do the work for her. She was willing, but my dad wouldn't have it. I never understood why he sacrificed his Saturdays until I started working on my relationship with God and started praying for Him to give me a heart more like Jesus. Now my dad's choice makes perfect sense to me...he loved his aunt by serving her, just as Jesus does for us.
For we walk by faith, not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:7
]]>For we walk by faith, not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:7
When I was a little girl we had a huge family picnic every summer. The best part was when my dad and my uncle would string a brightly coloured piñata over the strongest branch they could find. All the kids would line up and fidget as we impatiently waited for our turn.
When I finally got to the front of the line my dad would tie the blindfold on and spin me around until I had no clue which direction I was facing. I'd have to take several steps before I'd be close enough to take a swing, but had no idea which way to go.
Never once was I scared about falling or going the wrong way. I trusted that my dad loved me and would protect me, so he'd point me in the right direction and make sure I got there safely. I knew there was treasure ahead even though I couldn't see it because I knew that my dad could.
Our Heavenly Father loves us infinitely more than anyone else ever could, so why do we often not extend the same measure of faith to Him? I want to say, "Yes, Lord." every time, but I must admit that probably more often that not I try to wait for the blindfold to come off so I can see that there's definitely treasure ahead. God promises that there is. His plans for us are always good!
When I'm afraid to trust that promise I miss out on real intimacy with God because trust is at the very heart of intimacy. Thankfully, we have a patient Father that redirects our path when we head in the wrong direction and try to swing for treasure too soon.
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My grace is sucfficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. 2 Corinthians 12:9
A few months ago I was struggling through a never ending list of things to do because I wasn't feeling well. My head hurt so badly that I could barely see & I felt like I hadn't slept in a month. I just wanted to crawl back into bed until I felt better, but with deadlines looming, it wasn't an option.
Thankfully I wasn't dealing with what Paul was when he wrote this, but my task felt insurmountable nonetheless. In exasperation I asked out loud, " How am I supposed to do this!?" This verse popped into my head, so I wrote it down, taped it on the wall & got stuck in. Before I knew it, my list was done. I'm not saying that everything magically got easy, just that we often fail to see how much we can & should rely on God to do the heavy lifting. It's often when we are at our weakest that we are most aware of God's might.
For weeks I've been waking up in worship...literally singing praise before I've even opened my eyes. No matter what else the day may bring, it starts joyfully with Jesus.
Today was different. I woke up feeling melancholy and couldn't shake it all day. Melancholy turned to tearfulness as soon as I sat down in church tonight & the weight of Good Friday fully settled upon me.
I know the joy that Sunday brings, yet I felt crushed tonight as I listened to the words to "Ah, Holy Jesus - Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon thee? Alas my treason, Jesus, hath undone thee! T'was I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee; I crucified thee."
How often do I deny Jesus when I censor my conversation so I don't offend those who don't share my faith? How many times have I betrayed Him when I strive for my own glory instead of working for His? Every time I sin I put Jesus on that cross and He exchanges it for grace.
The melancholy that turned to grief today was a gift too. It's a reminder of the most precious gift I will ever receive and how much it cost the Father and Son to give it, yet give it they did. It is finished.
]]>The joy of the Lord is your strength. Nehemiah 8:10
]]>The joy of the Lord is your strength. Nehemiah 8:10
I've never picked a word for the year before, but there has been a word on my mind and heart since this year started...JOY. At the moment 2018 began I was meditating on Nehemiah 8 and painting in my bible. I've been praying for the joy of the Lord since then.
I've had an ephiphany a few days ago. As far as I can recall, since I've been praying for joy I've woken up every day singing a worship song. This morning it was Revelation Song. It's different every day, but the effect is the same...I start my day joyfully with Jesus.
God hears and answers our prayers. How cool is that? The enemy isn't gonna steal my joy. Nope, he can't have it...not today or any day. It's a gift from our mighty God and I'm keeping it!
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.
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I've been studying Philippians a lot lately. I just love Paul's message in it! At this point he writes to the church of Philippi and basically tells them no matter what's going on around you, keep your hearts focused on the Lord and rejoice in Him. He sees the big picture and has things all under control.
It's easy to think happiness and joy are the same thing, but there's a fundamental difference. Happiness is situational and if you let it, it can own you. If we count on everything to be perfect we'll be let down over and over because life is messy.
Joy, on the other hand, comes from outside of us. It is not dependent on circumstances. Even when the world seems to be falling down around us we have access to a supernatural peace that defies explanation. Paul understood this. It's why he could sit in a prison cell, chained & battered, yet not broken. He was focused on the light of the Lord & meant it when he said, "Rejoice!"
I was thinking about that when I painted in my bible. Paul's letter made me think of sunflowers. They love the light, so they follow the sun and in that light they grow tall and strong. We're kind of like that, aren't we? If we wallow in darkness, all we see is chains, but when we seek the light of Jesus we can rejoice in what's to come.
We love because He first loved us. 1 John 4:19
]]>We love because He first loved us. 1 John 4:19
Our Father loved us first. We don't have to earn it. We don't have to deserve it. We don't even have to want it. He loves us anyway. He loves us at our best AND when we're a hot mess. He loves us whether we're on fire for Him or angry with Him or running away from Him. He just loves us.
God loves us SO much that He gave His only Son for us. That will never stop blowing my mind! My frequent prayer is that He gives me a pure heart, teaches me to be more like Jesus and uses me to show His love for others.
I started having the same dream, over and over, of a star filled night sky, including the star of Bethlehem, and a long, winding path that led to the cross. I rarely have recurring dreams and this one was accompanied by an urgent feeling that I didn’t understand, so I began praying about it.
I can’t explain how or why I felt it, but I just felt like God was telling me that I was supposed to encourage other women to get closer to Him. I thought this was absolutely nuts, because even though I’d grown up going to church, I hadn’t gone regularly since I was 18 and up until then, it was only because my parents made me go. I didn’t know my bible and was only just beginning to learn what being a Christian really means. And I gotta admit, despite considering myself a Christian, I’d always been very doubtful when I heard someone say, “God told me...” and yet, that’s what it felt like. I just knew I could no longer ignore a persistent nudge that I couldn’t explain, other than to accept that it actually was from God.
So I was sitting at my desk, praying that if God really wanted me to encourage other women in their faith that He would show me how. I was skeptical, and probably even a bit rude and demanding as I prayed, “Yeah, suuuuure, OK, God. I’ve probably got this all wrong, but just in case I don’t, why don’t you show me the way since you’ve got the master plan?” Then a Youtube video about bible journaling just popped up and started playing. Whoa!
I’d been writing bible verses on my art for a few years at that point (that’s another story too), but I had never heard of bible journaling until I saw that video. I soon learned that it’s the worship of God through creative expression in your bible. It might be drawing, painting, decoupaging napkins, using stickers, doodling...it doesn’t matter. It’s not about what it looks like. It’s an opportunity to spend time with God.
I sat there, stunned, thinking, “Sooooo, that was a bit weird, but bible journaling...that’s so cool!” I had no idea what to do next, so I reached out to Su, our pastor’s wife and asked if we could talk. It felt awkward, because I didn’t know her that well yet and I felt like a phony when talking about “churchy” stuff. Until recently, I’d only shared my experience with my closest confidants, but even that was scary. I thought, “What if I’m interpreting this all wrong, hoping to have a personal encounter with God? What if they judge my faith or think I’m preaching to them?”
Su invited me over and listened intently to what I was experiencing. She asked thoughtful questions designed to get me thinking about where all this was coming from. We talked about how powerful prayer is and that God hears our prayers and guides us. We also talked about patience and waiting for God to reveal His plans for us. She told me, “His timing is perfect.” Su then opened her bible and read a piece of scripture to me: Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. Psalm 119:105. How appropriate that scripture turned out to be, given the image that was stuck in my head.
I nearly ran home because I suddenly had to paint the image I’d been dreaming about for the past month or so. I cranked up some tunes and let myself get lost in painting for a few hours. When it was finished I had this immense peace come over me. I sat feeling relief and satisfaction until I realised the constant nudging that I’d been feeling for the past month was gone. It had been persistent and constantly on my mind and suddenly the urge to do the something that I didn’t even really understand yet had disappeared. I thought, “C’mon, God! Are you serious!?”
I went about my life as normal, figuring if there was more to it, that God would eventually make it clear to me. I was as excited as ever to be part of a church that welcomed us as family, part of a missional community (home group) that supported and challenged me, and I continued to spend a lot of time studying my bible and further exploring the sermons I heard each week. I just could not get enough of God. The 2 hours or so in church each week and 2 hours or so of MC were the fastest feeling hours of my week...they still are.
The months continued to pass. As I got more and more comfortable and no longer felt like just a visitor at church, I became more expressive in my worship. I LOVE the worship music and could no longer stand still, with my hands clasped in front of me when the band plays. So if I felt the urge to dance, I just let go.
One week I really, really let go. I was swaying and weeping joyfully. I probably looked like a lunatic, but I didn’t care. The music stopped and whoever was leading that day was praying between songs. I looked down and noticed that I was still holding my tea, cradling it with both hands. I became aware that it was moving in a pattern, like a figure 8. Then I realised it was because I was moving that way. My hips and shoulders were swaying, even though my feet were firmly planted and I had been so certain I was standing still. So I tried to stop...I tried really hard to stop and couldn’t. I instantly became aware of the feeling of hands on my hips, gently pushing them in a figure 8. I knew I didn’t feel hands physically, yet somehow, there was a strong sensation of touch. I thought, “Whoa, is THIS what it feels like to be aware of the Holy Spirit? I wondered, “God, is that you or is this all in my head?”
The next song started and I had to put my cup down, so I could really, really let loose. I jumped up and down, threw my hands in the air and danced for Jesus. It felt amazing, but I didn’t give much thought to it. I just assumed it was God saying, “Good job, Jolie! You’re studying your bible and getting involved at church. You are being faithful.” I thought it was an affirmation that I was moving in the right direction in my life.
The following Saturday my shop assistant and I were chatting about a mutual friend who’d just had a baby. That naturally led to us talking about babies in our own lives. When I was younger, whenever the topic of babies came up I would usually say something along the lines of, “I definitely want kids, but it hasn’t happened for us yet. I’m sure it will when the time is right.” As I approached my 40s the dialogue changed a little, “It hasn’t happened yet. If it’s meant to be, it will be.” By 45 it was, “I would have liked to be a mom, but that ship has sailed. It just never happened for us.”
So that’s pretty much what I said when it came up this time, except it felt SO wrong. I corrected myself and said, “Actually, that’s not true. It DID happen once. I was pregnant when I was 31. I miscarried when I was about 5 or 6 weeks along.” I couldn’t believe I’d said that out loud. I’d had 15 years of practice of burying it deep and keeping my mouth shut. The more comfortable answer for everyone certainly doesn’t involve talking about loss. I said, “Wow, I have no idea why I just told you that. I NEVER talk about it.”
A few minutes later my assistant went to lunch and a lady came in with her grandchildren. We chatted as they sifted through buttons. I asked her how she intended to use them and she told me that she knits pillows and sews buttons on them. I commented on what a lovely idea that is and said I would love to knit, but never learned how. She responded, “I learned about 30 years ago when I had my first child. I was in the hospital for a long time, so it helped pass the time.” She said it very casually, so I didn’t assume it meant anything since hospital stays after giving birth were longer back then.
When she came to the till we pleasantly chatted about random things for a few minutes. She stopped mid sentence, reached out and put her hand on my arm and asked, “Jolie, are you a Christian?” The question caught me off guard because it was so out of the blue. I answered, “Yes, I am.” and found myself telling her the story of what had happened in church the previous Sunday. That surprised me because I hadn’t told a single person up to that point. It just seemed over the top to tell anyone that the Holy Spirit danced in me!
But here I was, telling it to a complete stranger and thinking, “Are you nuts, Jolie? This is your BUSINESS! You sound like a whackadoo! Do you really want to scare off customers?” And yet, I kept going. When I was done she asked, “Have you prayed about it and asked God what He was telling you?” I answered, “No, it never occurred to me. I just assumed He was giving me kind of a thumbs up that I have been faithful.”
At that point, her grandchildren, who had still been looking at buttons came up to her, so she sent them back to explore the craft supplies. She turned back to me and said, “I think God wants to tell you something and that you should ask him what He was saying. I’m going to tell you a story that I haven’t talked about in years.Thirty years ago I was in the hospital a long time after having my first child, but she didn’t come home with me. She died and it left a hole in my heart for 15 years."
She took a breath and continued on, "I grieved for her every single day. That changed when God gave me a vision of my baby. In it I was standing next to Him, looking into a nursery. He told me to go and lift up my baby, to spend time with her and then to give her back to Him. I went and picked her up, then suddenly was standing in the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen. I held my baby and rocked her and sang to her and told her how much I love her.” As she did this, she held her arms as if she were holding and rocking her baby and she gazed down smiling with joy and peace, as if she actually was looking at her child.
By this point, we were both crying...standing right there in my shop, tears streaming down our faces. She looked up and said, “Then God came back and I handed my baby to Him and I felt peace and healing from the grief I’d carried for 15 years. I knew it really happened and could only be from God because the healing was so sudden. The constant pain was gone.”
She reached out and touched my arm again, looked me in the eyes and said, “Jolie, go home and pray. Ask God what He is telling you because it feels really important.” She kind of shook it off, we wiped our tears and joked about how deep the conversation had suddenly gotten...all the things you do to lighten the mood and awkwardness when you’ve just found yourself over sharing with a stranger.
I felt absolutely shell shocked at how for the first time in years I’d talked about losing my baby and then only a few minutes later a stranger came in and shared her own loss with me, so I just went on about my day as normal. I was exhausted when I got home and didn’t pray about my experience. I guess I wasn’t ready yet. I just went to bed instead.
The following day we went to church and when the band began to play it happened all over again, only this time I was really aware of it from the beginning. I felt the sensation of hands on my hips, moving them in a figure 8 shape. I tried to stand still and couldn’t, so I gave in and started to cry and pray, “Lord, what are you telling me? What is it you want from me?” The answer was AUDIBLE. I heard, “I want you to name your child.” As I heard that, the sensation that I wasn’t the one controlling my body became stronger and I thought I might be losing my mind.
I argued with God in my head...yup! Argued with HIM! “Uh, what, God!? How? I don’t even know if my baby was a boy...” Something happened to my body as I finished my sentence, “or a girl.” My body whipped around from doing a figure 8 to rocking back and forth. It was as if by swiftly changing my movement God just said, “Ding, ding, ding! That’s right.” At that exact moment I saw the image in my head that I had dreamt over and over months before. It was the same one that I’d painted...a starry night sky with a long, winding path that lead to the cross, but there was one tiny difference.
There was supposed to be a little star, just to the upper left of the star of Bethlehem. I’d dotted that painting with lots of stars, yet somehow, at that moment, I knew one very important one was missing and I remembered being about to place it there, but deciding against it. It seemed like such a tiny, insignificant detail, but I had made a conscious decision to leave it out. And then He spoke again, “I want you to name your little girl.” I then realised the missing star represented my baby and I needed to acknowledge her. I needed to lay it all at the Lord’s feet and He would heal the brokenness in my heart.
It. Was. POWERFUL! I have no idea what the sermon was about that day. The only thing I remember is a piece of scripture that was read just before it was time to go: May the Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make His face shine upon you, And be gracious to you; The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, And give you peace. Numbers 6:24-26. I’d just heard...literally HEARD God tell me to name my child and minutes later the parting scripture was one that I’ve written on my artwork countless times for other people upon the birth or naming of a child.
I was so overcome with emotion at having such a profound experience with the Lord. It must have been obvious to others as well, because several people reached out and touched my shoulders and asked if I was ok. I struggled to speak. I didn’t know how to answer, so I just said something really powerful just happened me, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it. My husband held my hand and walked out with me, patiently waiting until I was ready to share.
When we were in the car my hubby leaned over and kissed me, squeezed my hand and said, “I love you.” I lost it...like super ugly crying lost it. I knew I had to tell him what happened, but didn’t know where to start because the story just seemed so incredulous, so unbelievable, so crazy! So I just started back at the beginning with the recurring dreams.
I was nearly finished with the story, having just gotten to the part where I heard God say, “I want you to name your child.” My hubby said, “We’ll name her Pamela, after your mom.” I was shocked! I hadn’t told him yet that God told me we had a girl. I asked, “Why do you say that? It was too early to know if we were having a boy or a girl.” He answered, “I don’t know. I just have a really strong feeling that she is a girl and that her name should be Pamela.” My hubby is a man of few words with a quiet faith. He does NOT make bold statements like that...and yet, he did. It was getting harder and harder to maintain my skepticism and write this all off as coincidence.
My husband held me while I cried and began to let go of 15 years of grief. We had never really talked about our loss and it had eaten me up inside for far too long. Up until that point, every time I saw a woman pushing a pram or a child run to his mother, it was like a knife to my heart. I was SO envious.
When my sisters had children, it was bittersweet for me. It was both a joyful and lonely time whenever I went home for visits, especially at the end of a long day of family activity. My sisters and best friends and I would sit down to chat while the kids would start to settle down and climb into their mother’s laps. I’d watch them cuddle and say, “I love you, Mommy.” and my heart would break a little more each time. Even in a room full of people, I felt so desperately alone, knowing I will never have that experience. No little person would ever love and need me like that. As much as I love and treasure them all, I felt like an outsider, because my life looks so different to theirs.
When my husband and I got home I climbed into bed with my phone and looked at baby girl names. There are so many things that we’ll never get to do, but I wanted to experience the ones we could, and that included giving our baby a middle name. I daydreamed about what she might have grown to look like, what her hobbies might have been, if she would have been quiet and introspective like my husband or talkative and goofy like me. I scrolled through the names, dismissing them one by one until I saw “Grace” and I KNEW that’s her middle name.
When I asked my husband if he liked the name he hugged me and he said, “It’s perfect. Her name is Pamela Grace.” And WHOOSH! Just like that, I felt a lightness that I hadn’t felt in 15 years. I had no idea how heavy the burden I’d been carrying was until it was gone.
Most people don’t know this part of me. They don’t know I ever carried a child. I never talked about it and that’s something I’m still easing into. It feels awkward, perhaps because we, as a society don’t treat miscarriage in the same way that we treat other loss. It’s just something “normal” that happens to a lot of women. Since it’s so common we expect to just get over it, as if our loss is less significant than any other. But it’s NOT less significant. It's just different.
I was a mommy from the MOMENT I knew I was carrying a life inside of me. I never held her in my arms, or even as much as felt her kick...it was far too early... and yet I FELT her in my womb. I’d taken a test to confirm her presence before I was aware of any physical clues because I just KNEW something was different. My heart sensed her before my body ever did and when she was gone, my heart broke.
With this experience, I finally understood that I’d been burying pain for a long time and that I would never be whole until I fully allowed God into my heart and my life. That meant handing the burden over to Him, so I did, and WOW, how it changed things!
A few days later I had lunch with a friend. She shared her own loss with me and encouraged me to continue praying. On the walk home I did exactly that and a poem started writing itself in my head. When I got home, I sat down at my computer and began to write. I should explain that I am a terrible poet. I was cleaning out a drawer a few years back and came across a poem I wrote for my husband before we got married. It was cringe worthy...like, I can’t believe he still married me cringe worthy. It was an epically bad poem that took several days of rewrites, in an effort to bare my heart and soul to my future husband and it still stunk!
This poem was different. I sat down at my computer and it poured out of me in minutes. Afterward, I called my best friend, told her the story and sent her the poem. She was speechless. She just kept saying, “Wow, Jo.” She then asked, “Did you make it acrostic on purpose?”
I had no idea what acrostic even meant, so she pointed out, “The first word of every stanza forms a message. Fifteen years broken, finally healed.” Whoa, my mind was blown! I hadn’t seen it. I fully believe it’s because I didn’t write that poem on my own. God did, through my hands. He helped me to say something that needed saying for 15 years and finished healing my broken heart in the process.
Fifteen years I’ve mourned you,
Fifteen years I’ve imagined your scent, your laugh, your smile,
Fifteen years I’ve longed to hold you in my arms,
Fifteen years I’ve yearned to be your mommy, if only for a little while.
Broken, but didn’t really know it,
Broken by emptiness I was unable to acknowledge or explain,
Broken under the weight of knowing you were my first and last chance,
Broken because you’ll never call me Mommy and I’ve been crushed by silent pain.
Finally sought the comfort of my Heavenly Father,
Finally asked Him to heal the wound that I’d buried so deep,
Finally accepted His will, His love, His grace,
Finally surrendered my heart and soul to God, for no longer could I weep.
Healed when God told me you’re real and you’re with Jesus,
Healed even though I won’t meet you in this time and place,
Healed because my Father gave me a vision of you...my daughter, my little star,
Healed when He said, “name your child,” so I did and I love you, Pamela Grace.
Mother’s Day 2017 was very different than the 14 previous years. Instead of wallowing in self pity thinking, “I should be the mother of a nearly 15 year old.” I celebrated! My hubby pampered me and it’s the first time anyone has ever said, “Happy Mother’s Day” to me. I finally thanked God for making me a mother, instead of focusing on loss. There are still times I miss her, even though we’ve never met, but mostly there’s just joy and peace because I know someday we will.
I had been struggling to tell my story for over a year. I’ve written it 100 times in my head, but whenever I’d sit down to write it out, my mind would go blank. Now that I have finally been able to, I can’t help but think back to when Su told me, “His timing is perfect.”
On the 29th anniversary of my mother's death I started to write and this time the story poured out of me. I don’t think it’s an accident that the day I was finally able to talk about healing from the loss of the little girl I named after my mother, that it’s also the anniversary of the day of her passing. My mom is the other most significant loss in my life, so it’s kind of a full circle for me. And here I am, finally able to talk about my journey.
For 27 years, I'd start feeling melancholy about halfway through September. Often I didn't even know why & then eventually it would dawn on me what time of year it was. I was always an emotional mess on the day of my mom’s death. Things started to change for me last year as my faith began to grow, because I didn't just have loss, I had hope.
This past year, I didn't even remember until I looked at Facebook and saw a post from one of my sisters. It's the first time in 29 years that October 2nd snuck up on me. It's still a sad day, but it just doesn't hold the same power it used to. How can it when I have hope in Jesus?
I came to realise that the painting I kept seeing over and over in my head all those months ago represents my life. It has been a journey on a long, winding road that was always heading closer and closer to Jesus. I’ve stumbled here and there, but He has been with me the whole way. I wish I could explain how full my heart is now, but there are no words profound enough to explain the hope and joy you experience when you let God in.
So what does this all have to do with the pressing urge that started this journey? After this healing process, and another that is a whole other long story, God began to put the urge to nurture women’s faith back on my heart. By that point, it had been a full year and in hindsight, I could see that it was all part of a process.
I believe that God does want me to use the gifts He’s given me, but I wasn’t ready up until that point. I’d had a lot of healing to do first. I also finally accepted that it’s not up to me. It doesn’t matter that I’m still young in my faith. God is going to do the work. I just need to follow His call and He’s calling me to help other women get closer to Him through creative expression.
We’ve all heard, “God does not call the qualified, He qualifies the called.” and boy, do I believe it now! During the year this was all going on, as God was healing my heart, He also brought women into my life who are gifted in different ways than He has gifted me. They have gifts of hospitality and encouragement and are confident with prayer...all things I struggle with.
Together, we all felt really excited about being called to use our gifts to encourage other women. About a year and a half after this journey first started, we selected 9 October as the date we’d run a women’s bible journaling event at church. As it happens, that was the first day of Baby Loss Awareness week. I didn’t know that when we selected the date, but it seems fitting, given how this all came about.
It has been several months since I wrote down most of my story. I’ve shared it with women from my church and a few other people when I felt kind of prompted to do so, but I just haven’t felt ready to put it out there for anyone and everyone to see yet. I keep praying on it, trusting that I’ll feel clarity when it’s time.
I was thinking about how quickly the time has passed and that Mother’s Day is nearly here again. I hadn’t read Psalm 119 in a while and wondered if my perspective on it would be different than when I started this healing journey. I decided to do a bible study and my mind was blown when I learned that Psalm 119 is an acrostic poem, as is the poem that I wrote for Pamela Grace. Some might call that a coincidence, but I think it’s another lovely thread that God has woven into my story for me.
I gotta tell ya, as profound of a journey as this has been for me, I am nervous about putting it out there for all to see and judge. But if it weren’t for a stranger who so generously made herself vulnerable to me that day in my shop, I’d still be brokenhearted. Maybe it will resonate with someone who needs to hear it, just like it did for me when the lady shared her own story with me.
It’s entirely possible that I got some of the details wrong as her story morphed into mine over time. But we mothers who have lost our babies all share the same painful story, don’t we? And we shouldn’t be alone in that.
You. Are. Not. Alone.
If you're walking this same path, my hope for you is that this Mother's Day you finally feel that you can celebrate. Sister, YOU were CHOSEN to carry a precious gift who is now safely in the arms of Jesus!
So I send this story out there with a prayer for you, wherever you are in your own healing journey. “May the Lord bless you and keep you...”
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In 1873 Horatio Spafford received the message from his wife, “Saved alone,” after the ship she and their 4 daughters were on sank on the way to Europe. It was the latest in a string of tragedies for the family. They had also lost their entire fortune to the Chicago Fire in 1871 and their young son shortly before that. It's more than I can imagine bearing, and yet, as he crossed the Atlantic to join his wife, Spafford managed to write these lyrics:
When peace, like a river,
attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot,
Thou hast taught me to know,
“It is well, it is well with my soul”
We’re working through the book of Acts at my church, but when I’m at home I keep finding myself in Philippians lately. It seems particularly fitting now as I think about the school shooting that took place in Florida a few days ago.
I’m not looking to debate gun laws and school security. I just need to pray. I pray that in the midst of people’s disbelief, anger, fear and sorrow that there is also hope. In times like these it may seem like a lonely journey across an endless, stormy sea, but I pray that in time we can all sing, “It is well with my soul.”
To Be a Tree...the story of how God called me to Him.
]]>My parents wanted to instill in their children a faith in God, so we went to church every Sunday. Week in and week out, we showed up as a family, kneeled and prayed, followed along with the readings, put an envelope in the offering basket, shook hands and said, “Peace be with you,” then left to go on with the rest of our week until it was time to do it again. To me, church always felt more like it was about status and obligation, rather than cultivating a relationship with God. I learned to feel guilty about anything and everything and that I could never do enough to be a good person, worthy of someday being welcomed into Heaven.
While my basic faith in God never wavered, my experience with church in general did turn me off to organised religion and attending church anywhere. I felt that way for the better part of 20 years, but my feelings changed completely about 7 years ago. While I was visiting a friend she took me to her home church, Mercy Hill, in Milwaukee, WI. There, I felt such a strong sense of fellowship and joy that I’d never experienced before.
I was taken aback the first time I visited Mercy Hill. It was pretty much the opposite of what I thought a church was supposed to be. It’s in an old industrial space, with wood floors, brick walls and exposed beams and pipes on the ceiling. Instead of people sitting completely quiet in pews, dressed in their “Sunday best” and waiting for the service to begin… people were relaxing in rows of upholstered chairs, sipping cups of coffee and chatting, wearing anything from shorts and sandals, to a police uniform, to dressy clothes…it simply didn’t matter.
There was no one shushing the talkers with the expectation that silence is how you show respect in the house of God. Instead, everyone chatted about topics ranging from their children, to that afternoon’s Packer game, to last week’s sermon, to upcoming church events. When service officially began, everyone was engaged with the sermon, of course. But before and after that, they interacted as a community. I never experienced that feeling of fellowship while growing up in my childhood church. For years, we attended church with the same people every week, yet I don’t recall ever getting to know any of them.
The music at Mercy Hill wasn’t what I expected either. It wasn’t the sombre, dutiful music I was accustomed to. It was joyful and loud, led by several church members who happened to be blessed with musical ability. The assistant pastor sported a goatee and rocked out on a guitar, along with several other equally talented musicians. My heart sang that day and so did I!… I actually sang out loud in church for the first time ever. That’s when I started to cry, and when my relationship with God started to grow. I’ve always had faith, but that’s the first time I started to actually listen to God’s Word.
When I moved to Northern Ireland 15 years ago, I was told, “Oh, you don’t talk about religion here. It’s not a good idea.” So I didn’t. Talking about faith outside of church wasn’t something we did a lot of while growing up anyway, so staying quiet about it wasn’t difficult for me. I considered my faith and my relationship with God to be personal, and not something that I felt compelled to talk about. That began to change with one seemingly little thing…a few years ago, a customer came into my shop and asked me to paint a scripture piece for her pastor who was celebrating 30 years with the church.
Standing at the counter painting that piece opened a door to so many faith related conversations that I began to yearn for more. I was also surprised at how many people started asking for scripture art, so I began to create more. In doing so, I was reading scripture, something I hadn’t done in years. I’d always found reading the Bible a bit like reading Shakespeare. I’d get so lost in the language that I couldn’t decipher the meaning. I just didn’t get it. By putting scripture in front of me through art, God spoke to me in a language that resonated with me and that’s when I began to understand God’s Word.
Through my art, which I now realise is a gift from God, He is drawing me closer to Him every day. It’s a constant learning process, but through His gift, God has opened me up to exploring my relationship with Him, through others. Some of my most poignant and eye opening conversations have come as a result of people asking about my scripture art. These experiences have opened my eyes to my need for Christian fellowship and opened my heart to recognise that I’m being called to create scripture artwork for a reason. Through His gift, I am able to share God’s Word.
I’ve just had an experience that I’m convinced God had a hand in, so I listened with my heart again and followed what He wanted me to do: For the past few weeks I’ve had this overwhelming urge to paint trees. I dreamt of it Saturday night and it was all I could think about on Sunday. Sunday evening, I opened Mercy Hill’s Vimeo page and selected a sermon at random from 4 years ago. My plan was to paint while listening to the sermon.
In the opening shot of the video I was shocked to see the lead pastor was standing in front of a an image of a tree! The words next to it read, “To Be a Tree.” He was preaching a series on Galatians 5, where we learn about the Fruit of the Spirit. The series was called “To Be a Tree” because he wanted to make sure we understood that it is out of a Spirit tree that Spirit fruit is produced. It is only through the Spirit of God in us that we are able to experience the fruit of the Spirit. I didn’t need any more prompts…it was time to start painting a tree!
It felt like this was an experience I needed to share, so I photographed my art materials and posted them on Instagram. As I was about to close the app, a photo was uploaded by Village Church Belfast, a church that my friend from Mercy Hill told me about only a few weeks ago. She found it for me because it’s part of the same global Acts 29 network that Mercy Hill is a part of and we were talking about the importance of Christian fellowship. As much as I love Mercy Hill, and can learn through the messages online, I can’t fully experience Christian fellowship with them if I can’t be there to build a relationship with their community. Perhaps the purpose of developing a devotion for Mercy Hill was to learn through them that church is meant to be a place where I can feel joy and grow closer to a loving God, instead of it just being a Sunday morning obligation.
I don’t know God’s exact plan for me, but I have a feeling that through Village Church Belfast, He’ll continue pointing me in the right direction, and to a place where I finally have the same sense of belonging, connection with Him, and fellowship with a community that I feel each time I visit Mercy Hill. I considered waiting to post my story until after I’ve attended Village Church Belfast for the first time this Sunday, but God’s direction has been so clear through this process that I’m going to trust He knows what He’s doing. I’m choosing to step out and live by faith and in doing so, I'm learning to trust and apply God’s Word.
I am so nervous, but also so excited to see what happens next!
The post above was originally written in February 2016. I transferred it over from my old website because I'm amazed by how God has been working in my life and on my heart these past few years. I know now that He has been chasing me my whole life, but this is definitely the pivotal point when I finally started letting Him in.
I recently learned something that blew my mind, yet it probably shouldn't have. God weaves our story together with a million little threads that we never see until we turn back to look at the whole picture. The night that I was painting a tree as I listened online to a 4 year old, randomly selected sermon on The fruits of the Spirit from Galatians 5, they were finishing the same sermon series at the church that God led me to and has been my home ever since. God is so good!
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