by Hannah Hanzel | May 22, 2018
May 22, 2003 – 15 years ago today I was saved. At the young age of 7, this scrawny, little missionary kid sat on the side of her parents’ Motel 8 bed and came to know the Lord. I recited the Romans Road, a series of verses in Romans about salvation, from memory, thanks to my mom’s teaching. It clicked that all those verses worked together, and they all meant something. As far as my young mind could tell, I was a sinner, or a disobedient human as my dad explained.
I sat between my parents and prayed a simple, short prayer, asking God to forgive me and accept me. He did just that! Since that night, my life has been equivalent to a toddler learning to walk on new spiritual feet.
This blog is a reflection of all the times I messed up, and God’s redemption shone through, despite those weaknesses. I’d like to say my walk with the Lord has been a pious, flat march with every piece of spiritual armor on and a spring in my step. I, however, cannot say that, in all honesty. There are three primary things that I believe I will always struggle with as a believer in Christ:
First, I am convinced I will always struggle with starting a Gospel conversation. The moment I muster up the courage to obey the Spirit’s prompting, eloquent words vanish from my mind. I am left with awkward openers and fumbled words. Just about two weeks ago, one of my good friends and I were in a restaurant getting tea. The waiter was visibly perturbed by something. His service was poor, and his attitude was starting to bother me. The Spirit spoke clearly to me that I was to share the Gospel with him.
As he came to our table I spouted off the first thing that came to my head. “Hi, um, so, um, my friend and I are talking Bible things… and um, I was wondering… um, is there any way we could be praying for you… at all? Like, while we pray for our tea?” There it was – the worst Gospel conversation initiation ever in human history.
I thought to myself, “This kid is never stepping into a church completely due to this opening.” I maintained a smile, though my insides were cringing. To God’s glory and my relief, the boy broke down about many things happening in his life for which he desperately needed prayer.
The second thing I think I’ll always struggle with in my Christian walk is patience. Here’s another story – unfortunately a true one. I was in Mexico for a mission trip with several families. We would stay in Texas and drive across the border into Mexico and put on a festival for a local neighborhood. It took a lot of manual labor and a lot of teamwork to pull it off well.
There were many children on our team who did such a great job at jumping in and helping wherever needed. There was one girl in particular that was a spunky little firecracker. We didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but that was because she was a 9-year-old who knew everything, and I was a 16-year-old who knew everything. We just didn’t exactly see everything the same way.
It was the end of the day of the festival, and we were starting to clean up. We were all exhausted. I stood by the water table with one of my good friends who had been pouring and serving water cups all day long. He and I were chatting when the little girl skipped up to the table and demanded rather rudely to be given a cup of water immediately. My friend obliged.
Suddenly a feeling of anger rose up in me, and my impatience got the better of me. Before the girl could skip away I reached out and smacked the cup of water out of her hand, leaving her and my friend wide-eyed and staring at me. Her big eyes filled with tears, and she held her wet shirt in her limp hands as she ran off to her mom.
I was astounded that day at how quickly my patience is lost and how quickly I can respond without wisdom. My name is Hannah, and I am an impatience addict.
Lastly, something I see myself struggling with for the rest of my life as a believer is pride. One final story as I explain myself:
I sat on the youth group floor with about 15 other teens as we listened to our youth minister, Brad, explain the next improv game for our drama team. I was about 14 at the time while my crush was 18 and sitting a few feet away from me. I only heard a couple words coming from Brad’s mouth as I daydreamed. He said something about a blind date scene… blah, blah, blah.
All of a sudden he called my name and my crushes name. “Now you two act out that scene,” Brad said. My heart sank.
My crush pranced confidently up to our little stage as I awkwardly bounded up behind him. What a smart and humble person would do is ask Brad to repeat the scenario since I wasn’t paying attention, but I evidently was neither smart nor humble. Brad yelled action and our mimery began. Here’s how the scene went down:
Hannah knocks on fake door to meet her blind date. Crush opens door and looks excited. Hannah doesn’t notice his social cues and pulls him in by his shirt collar for a big ole stage kiss. Aaaaaaand cut.
Humility would have done me well that day and shown me that the scene we were meant to play out was two friends discussing a blind date that had already occurred. My pride got me to a state of unbelievable embarrassment and got my crush a ripped shirt. I avoided improv games for months.
There you have it! Fifteen years, three major weaknesses (to name a few of my many) and a little more than you’d probably like to know about me. What a journey though! I praise God for my weaknesses!
2 Corinthians 12:9 says, “But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”
Stop worrying about creating the perfect walk, my friend. Focus, rather, on each individual step. Before you know it, you’ll look back on 15, 30, 50, maybe even 80 years of God’s faithfulness to train your baby steps into a run. Praise Him for it!
If He can use an awkward Gospel conservationist, an impatient water-cup-smacking teen, and a prideful stage kisser, He can use anyone!
by Hannah Hanzel | Apr 19, 2018
Life is precious at every season. For three Oklahoma mamas, the tiny lives inside them were precious too. How could these women know that the little kicks and dances inside their wombs would come to a halt in this way? On April 19, 1995, 23 years ago today, the Alfred P. Murrah Federal building was bombed in Downtown Oklahoma City.
The bombing was marked in our memories by the 168 lives lost. There are three precious lives, however, that are never counted in the death toll, but had heartbeats nonetheless. The mamas of the three unborn babies, Carrie Ann Lenz, Robbin Ann Huff, and Sheila R. Gigger, lost their lives in the bombing, in turn their babies lost their lives too.
All three women have a seat on the lawn at the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum. Their babies, however, do not have a seat of their own but rather have their name featured on their mothers’ seats.
I’m not writing this to utilize a tragedy to further an agenda. I am writing this with an honest and desperate question…
When do babies’ lives count?
There are three things society has told me in response to this question. Sometimes the response comes through outspoken pro-choice advocates, but often times, the response comes through a silent generation of Christians…
- Only when the mama wants it to count. I know in a world of rape and unconsented sex, there can be so much pain and unpreparedness when it comes to a forced or unexpected pregnancy. But life is still life. There are so many options for pregnant women that do not involve abortion. Mother Teresa once said something that nearly every church, crisis pregnancy center and adoption agency live for, “Abortion is murder in the womb… A child is a gift of God. If you do not want them, give the babies to me.”
- Only after they are born. This is the age-old debate. Does life begin at a certain age within the womb or the moment they are born? Psalm 139:13 proclaims the breath of God gently filling the tiny lungs of the smallest baby in the womb. He forms their jelly bean-size palm and draws fingers for them as they grow into what we recognize as hands. He kisses the little bald noggin and slowly etches out this unique child’s features. Yes! He knits us together, like a tender mother knitting and creating a masterpiece for their loved ones to see. From conception is when these little ones count.
- I don’t know. This point is most sad to me. I have heard this response to my question, “When do babies’ lives count?” You don’t know? My goodness! Like you don’t know if the Thunder will win this season? Like you don’t know what you’ll have for supper tonight? Like you don’t know why you ever took algebra? Is this such a trivial matter that a simple “I don’t know” will suffice? There are so many resources in the world today that will help you know. As believers, our greatest resource is Scripture! If you don’t know, then find out. This is a matter of life or death.
The three unborn babies in the 1995 bombing are a horrific and overwhelmingly sad example of lives lost by attack, forcefully taken. In 2016 alone, 3,942 Oklahoma babies were deemed to not count and were aborted. Three thousand, nine hundred, and forty-two.
When do babies’ lives matter?
How will you answer this question?
by Hannah Hanzel | Mar 14, 2018
I must begin this blog by stating who I am and where I come from. I am not a teacher. I’ve never had a desire to be one. I believe it’s a calling, and while I have not been called to it, a large portion of my family has. I have aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins, grandparents and parents who were or are presently teachers, principals, school bus drivers or superintendents.
As I watch a majority of educators wrestle with everything going on in this country and specifically in this state of Oklahoma I have one question…
Teachers, why don’t you stop?
To that question, I hear the cry of a thousand people that have been loved, taught, and provided for by school personnel. The people say, “Please, don’t stop!”
Please don’t stop pushing. Keep pushing for better education for students of all ages, all races, all backgrounds, all religions, all families and all incomes. Keep pushing those same students to be better, to work harder, to love how God has made them, to respect their country, and to build hope where there is none. Keep pushing your school district to further their united efforts, to protect you as educators and to give you opportunities to grow and learn yourselves.
Please don’t stop loving. Keep loving your students through the good and hard times. They all need you. Keep loving your school whether it has 50 students or 5,000 students. Keep loving your classroom though it falls apart, though it doesn’t have the supplies you need, though it is overcrowded, and though you feel like it is a prison sometimes.
Please don’t stop knowing. Know that even though you come home late, your family still loves you. Know that even though you feel alone, God sees your diligence and kindness. Know that even though you get paid so little, we are willing to fight with you. Know that your calling is not a mistake.
Teachers, you have so much stacked against you. But please don’t stop. Please don’t leave. We need your courage, your consistency, your love, your knowledge, your steadfastness, and so much more.
As a believer I wrestle with how I may best love you. The more I examine Scripture, the more I see where I have failed in doing this and must now promise you that I will do otherwise.
I promise to pray for you (1 Tim. 2:1-2).
I promise to provide for you where others will not or cannot (Acts 4:32-35).
I promise to encourage you (1 Thess. 5:11).
I promise to stand and serve the Lord with you (Zeph. 3:9).
I promise to respect you (1 Thess. 5:12-12-13).
Teachers, these things I promise, and upon these things I stand. Forgive me for those times I failed to support you and communicate to me how I may encourage you. Why don’t you stop?
Because we need you.
by Hannah Hanzel | Jan 24, 2018
There is a feeling of heaviness and weighted misery that sweeps over Christ-followers after we have willfully sinned against God. The exact sin does not matter, as long as it’s sin. Sin is sin. But what about that feeling? Sometimes it’s in the pit of our stomachs, and sometimes it’s in the depths of our minds. No matter the location, it would be foolish of us to suppress it and believe we can overcome it alone. But is this feeling of God (conviction) or is it of the enemy (condemnation)?
After we commit a sin against God and the feeling sweeps over us, we repent. We ask God to forgive us and plead for Him to humble our selfish hearts. We always come back to repentance because the Spirit of God lives in us (Rom. 8:9). The Spirit begins working from the moment we sin to the moment we repent as it wrestles with our flesh in the limited space of our hearts. The one we’ve given the most leeway wins. Repentance may not take place until 12 seconds prior to the sin or until 12 years after. Nonetheless, there is that feeling.
We must learn to discern between condemnation and conviction for sin. When we appreciate one and not the other, or worse, we blur the two together, we miss three things: the Spirit’s place, God’s grace, and Christ’s plan.
We see the Spirit’s place in conviction in John 16:7-11 just before Christ’s ascension. He says the Spirit’s place is to convict, first of sin, then of righteousness, and lastly of judgment. When we mistake guilt or condemnation for conviction, or vise versa, we misplace the Spirit Himself.
We see God’s grace in conviction in Joel 2:13. Joel writes, “…Return to the Lord your God. For He is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in faithful love, and He relents from sending disaster.” A common misconception of God is that He is a vicious judge, waiting on the edge of His seat for a chance to slap your hand. Joel says quite the opposite in this passage. The feeling of conviction and the opportunity to repent when we are in the wrong against God is one of His greatest gifts of grace.
Lastly, we see Christ’s plan in conviction in Psalm 38 as David cries out to the Lord. I often try to imagine what the Holy Trinity talked about or how they behaved when David would call to them. Sometimes I picture them dancing and singing as David strums away on his harp praising them. In Psalm 38, however, I picture God holding David’s hand as David says “For my iniquities have flooded over my head; they are a burden too heavy for me to bear”. In this scene I see the Holy Spirit and Jesus packing their bags for Earth and reviewing the plan for redemption.
Yes, conviction is key in our lives, and yet we too often carry condemnation with us. But how can we determine between the two? Let us examine them now.
First, condemnation is violent. The enemy flings the committed sin in your face and rubs it into your already worn heart. Phrases pop into your head like, “You’re so stupid, God is ashamed of you.” Condemnation distorts God’s Word. We begin seeing His promises and mercies as obligatory and unsatisfactory. Along with that come ideas such as, “God will never forgive you”. Condemnation is selfish. It focuses on our glory being shot down and our own abilities, or lack of abilities. We think, “If only I had tried harder.”
And what of conviction? Oh that sweet, sinking feeling when we realize our wrong! Oh that sound of Christ’s dripping blood when we become aware of our offense. Believer, be grateful for God’s conviction. When seen through the eyes of Scripture, conviction is our plumb line. But what is it, you may ask?
It is the weighted misery.
Conviction is healing. Our Savior sees our sin in the moment it is committed and compels His Spirit to cleanse us of it. We feel remorse for ever having offended our King, and soon we begin to heal from our disobedience.
Conviction is progressive but does not drag on. C.S. Lewis said, “Mere time does nothing either to the fact or to the guilt of a sin. The guilt is covered not by time but by repentance and the blood of Christ.” So we see that it may take time to heal from our sin, but it takes repentance and Christ’s blood (which is already provided) to be forgiven of the sin.
Lastly, conviction is of Christ and brings life. Rom. 8:1 confidently states that there is “now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus”. Rather, Christ utilizes His Spirit in us to enable a sort of grief over our sin. In 2 Cor. 7:9-10, Paul says, “I now rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because your grief led to repentance. For you were grieved as God willed… Godly grief produces repentance that leads to salvation without regret, but worldly grief produces death.”
We strive to claim purity and abstain from sin, but as we are still in the flesh, we also strive towards repentance daily. As we run this race together, let us “not be conformed to the desires of our former ignorance” (1 Pet. 1:14). We cling to conviction and deny condemnation. With hearts of humility, let us praise God for this weighted misery that quickly turns to triumphant gratitude!
by Hannah Hanzel | Dec 21, 2017
Dear Satan,
There was a time that you and I were friends. You and I achieved many sorrowful and terrible things together. But, as you well know, I am no longer with you. I have been released from your presence and captivated by a new love.
It seems though you have been extra active this year to reclaim many of the Children of God whom you lost over the years. As I hang my stocking with care this Christmas, I can’t help but feel the weight of your attacks. Every day on social media, the news, and even in conversation, your handy work is displayed in racism, divorce, mass shootings, car wrecks, cancer, natural disasters and more. You have indeed been busy.
But I do not write this letter to you in hopes that you may stop… I know that is futile. I write to you that you may know the truth of where we, the Children of God, stand this Christmas. With every murderous gunshot, teen suicide, wayward step, adulterous thought and cancer diagnosis, we lay victims as well as perpetrators to the sins of the world and to the mourning that comes with this darkness. But know this; we do not mourn as those without hope (1 Thess. 4:13).
Our hope gives us what we need in the wake of your treacherous work. For the times we wept over lost loved ones, Christ gave us comfort (2 Cor. 1:3). For the times we faced trials, God renewed our strength (Is. 40:31). For the times we suffered unjustly, God made us more conscious of His presence (1 Pet. 2:19). For the times we fell into sin, God faithfully forgave us in His justice (1 John 1:9). For the times tragedy fell on our nation, God reminded us of the great things He promised to do (Hab. 3:2). For the times bitterness and forgiveness seeped into our stone hearts, God gave us new ones of flesh (Ez. 36:26). For the times our prayers seemed to bounce off the walls, the Spirit interceded for us with His celestial groans (Rom. 8:26-27).
Satan, you have done everything you can to take the message of hope and rebirth from us this Christmas. But you must know something; you will lose. Christmas is not yours to take. The Gospel message of hope and life is not yours to give or take away. The precious baby that we celebrate on this day has defeated you. Your efforts are waning; your resources are depleting, and your victory is destroyed all because of the nail pierced hands of One greater than you.
You will not take our Christmas. Death loses. Cancer loses. Hate loses. Suicide loses. Divorce, Anger, Injustice, Starvation, Tears, Bitterness and Pain lose. You lose. The God of all victory, all majesty, all truth, all salvation, triumphs over you and this is the day that we rejoice!
Satan, as I sit with my family this Christmas Eve and my Dad reads the Christmas story from Luke, I will think of you for a moment. I will collect in my mind and heart all the things that have happened this year, good and bad. I will briefly mourn over the loss, but as my Dad reads Luke 2:10-11 I will remember my Savior.
“But the angel said to them, ‘Don’t be afraid, for look, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people: Today in the City of David a Savior was born for you, who is the Messiah, the Lord.’”
You will not take my Christmas.
Sincerely,
A Child of God