by Ryan Smith | Jan 8, 2019
I wade into this territory delicately for two reasons.
One, I am a man. As a man, I recognize my experiences and perspectives are likely different from the majority of those reading this article. I ask in advance for grace regarding any unperceived lines I may cross. Second, I recognize this topic is highly personal and ingrained deeply in the conscious of my sisters in Christ. I hope to provide encouragement and peace – not anxiety. That being said, here we go:
Ladies, don’t be afraid to grow old.
As I consider the mass marketing strategies and walk past aisle after aisle of beauty “correction” products, I can’t help but feel a degree of hurt for my sisters in Christ. From an outside perspective, it seems much of what is daily put before you is a standard and expectation of physical appearance that can only be daunting to strive for.
Beyond that, it seems you are being continually pushed toward a fountain of youth that not only is a mirage, but seeks to orient you toward reversing the effects of age – a tide no person can swim against. Time only goes in one direction, and physically, so do we.
I hesitantly admit, it seems the majority of women I love, admire and respect are engaged in battle against a perceived enemy at work in their own bodies. My dear sisters, you must be tired.
If I may ask, who told you your wrinkles are wrong?
Who told you the younger, leaner, more colorful version of yourself was better – that it is to be coveted?
Who waters those seeds of discontent in your heart?
Proverbs 31 talks about a woman of true beauty – an ideal – one who fears the Lord. She is marked by unique traits which can be viewed in three categories of life: Relational, Volitional and Physical.
Relationally, she does good to her husband (v. 12), is generous and benevolent to the needy (v. 20), teaches with kindness (v. 26) and, as a result, is praised openly by her trusting husband and children (vv. 11, 28).
Volitionally, she is industrious (vv. 13, 14, 16, 19, 22, 24, 27), works diligently (vv. 15, 18, 27) and, as a result, dwells in security (vv. 21, 25).
Physically, she is strong (v. 17), dignified and joyfully confident (v. 25).
Notice, the physical aspect of the woman who is to be praised is the least mentioned. However, if we were to speculate what such a woman would look like, we might assume a few things:
As one who has children, her body probably bears a few scars, and her hair has likely grayed from weariness.
As one who is generous and benevolent, she probably is not clothed extravagantly or in excess.
As one who works with her hands and travels distances to buy and sell, she likely has some callouses, bunions and travel fatigue.
As one who stays up late and rises early, she probably has bags under her eyes and a functional hairdo.
Her joyful expressions over time result in well-worn wrinkles. Her hours of prayerful concern line her forehead.
She grows older – and she is beautiful.
A woman does not have to be married, have children, own a business, or even be old to be praised. She does not need messy hair, wrinkled crow’s feet and subdued clothing to be beautiful. But she also shouldn’t be afraid of these things.
Taking care of our bodies is important, and we should always present our capable best in whatever circumstance we find ourselves. The Bible has much to say about being a caring steward of our physical person.
But we must always remember that the way we display our bodies tells something to the world about what we believe. If we place the world’s voices, images and standards above God’s, it shows where we genuinely find value. If we continually chase youth, we may resent age, experience and accumulated work.
As a Christian man, when I see women vainly chasing an image of youth, it does not make me admire them – it makes me sad.
Ladies, wherever you are on your journey in life, don’t be ashamed of the path on which God has brought you and the scars that show you were there. Don’t be conformed to the idea that youth is the standard of beauty, but embrace the surpassing beauty of experience, wisdom, relational investment, volitional aptitude and physical strength.
We, your Christian brothers are rooting for you. Grow old with grace and dignity, and you will be truly clothed with beauty and adored by those who call you blessed.
“Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised” – Proverbs 31:30.
by Angela Sanders | Jan 1, 2019
Guess what. The kids will never be settled. Not completely.
Sure, some of the things I want for them will fall into place. They may have moments, even stretches, of happy, but I’m slowly learning that life is like one of those crazy tennis ball shooters, and it never turns off. They might dodge and volley successfully for a while, but they’re never going to get an extended rest.
No one does.
They’re going to get hit, and there’s not a single thing I can do about it. Now, you might think this realization would overwhelm or depress me, but it’s actually a bit of a relief. You see, I know what I have to do, and this truth makes the job a little easier.
I don’t know about the rest of you parents, moms in particular, but I’ve been waiting twenty-three years for the ache in my heart to subside, the one that began when my oldest was born, the one that ebbs and flows with my children’s successes and failures, health and illness, joy and sadness. Dreading the squeeze of adrenaline that has followed every one of my babies’ cries, children’s tears, teenagers’ pained expressions, and young adults’ vulnerable texts, I’ve poured much to most of my time and energy into heading them off, not even hoping for awesome, just normal, so my weary heart can rest.
That’s no way to live.
First of all, it’s wrong. My time and energy? It belongs to God—all of it—and I have sacrificed way too much of it on the altar of the life I imagined for my children, something God may never even have had in mind for them.
Now, God’s been faithful to use what I have given Him to advance His Kingdom, and I’m grateful, but I can’t help wondering what He might have done through me if my attention hadn’t been quite as divided, if I’d had His glory in mind when making parenting decisions all along instead of just more recently. Whatever He might have done, I’m sure He accomplished it in other ways, but I hate that I missed out on opportunities to participate. Even more, I hate that I missed out on opportunities to express my devotion and gratitude to the Father for all He’s done for me.
Second, it’s a bad example to set for my children, whose greatest good is achieved when God is glorified and His Kingdom, their inheritance as born-again believers, grows.
God’s receiving the praise and worship He deserves for being Who He is and doing what He’s done is more important than anything else. Anything. Of course, I’ve known all along it was more important than my own happiness and have done my best to prove that. However, it’s also more important than my children’s happiness, and I know my words and actions to this point haven’t always conveyed that truth.
Well, today, that changes. Todd and I are empty nesters now, so it might seem like a moot point, but it’s not. Once a parent, always a parent. For the rest of their lives, I will be making decisions that affect my children—their children, too, if that’s what God has in mind for them—and I’m going to spend that time giving God His due, no matter the cost.
I thought I might feel a little anxious about this resolution, but I’m really not. I know and truly believe that God is working all things together for my family’s good because we all love Him and have been called according to His purpose (Rom. 8:28). What’s more, He’s not a God of confusion (1 Cor. 14:33). If something is His will for me, then it’s His will for my loved ones, too.
Like I said before, the kids are never going to settle anyway. If they suffer as a result of my obedience, at least the sting will count for something good and lasting. At most, it will deepen their faith.
by Brian Hobbs | Dec 27, 2018
In 2018, many well-known and significant people died.
From Billy Graham to Aretha Franklin to George and Barbara Bush to John McCain to Stan Lee to Stephen Hawking to Charles Krauthammer, the year featured a wide array of notable deaths.
Each of these individuals was recognized with a significant amounts of news coverage, and rightly so.
I wonder, though, if in 2018, you also had to say goodbye to someone you loved. Perhaps it was a parent, a cousin, a longtime friend. Many people I know had to deal with death in 2018, and often it was someone that the media did not notice. But this person was and is a treasure to you and many others.
If so, it’s you I am thinking about and writing to today. As we collectively grieve the loss of titanic figures like President Bush, we also can grieve with those who experienced an up-close loss this year. In fact, it was during President Bush’s passing and funeral we saw that family members, including his son George W. Bush, who experienced the loss on an intensely personal level.
If you are in a season of grief, don’t feel pressured to “just move on” or find distraction. Embrace the opportunity to mourn; to remember; to hope.
In my years or reading, I have not found very many good books on grief. There are, of course, well-known books like C.S. Lewis’ “A Grief Observed” and Granger Westberg’s “Good Grief.”
Yet I find that three things speak to me most during times of grief: music, poetry and finally, God’s Word.
Perhaps one of these verses from Scripture could bless you as they have me in times of loss.
- God blesses those people who grieve. They will find comfort (Matthew 5:4)
- The Lord is near to those who are discouraged; he saves those who have lost all hope (Psalm 34:18)
- He sets on high those who are lowly, and those who mourn are lifted to safety (Job 5:11)
- We know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28)
- The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me (Psalm 23)
- Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?” (John 14:25-26)
Please know that I am very sorry for your loss, and that I pray the God of all comfort—the God Who Is There—will give you peace now and always.
by Amy Spear | Dec 20, 2018
Getting in the car with three little kids is a lot harder than one might think. So many things to grab and remember as you are trying to walk out the door.
Keys, purse, phone, at least two pairs of shoes because you know they don’t have them, sippy cups, binky, diaper bag, snacks— OK, well that’s all I can carry—oh yeah, my drink! Needing that extra hand, you sit your cup down, for one moment, to forget it the second it leaves your grasp.
Then off you go, and BAM! It’s gone! “Oh man! I really wanted that!” Too late now. As you see it fly down the road into the gutter.
Well, a coke is one thing, but what about my husband’s mini iPad!? Wade had just bought himself a new iPad, and as he was walking out the house, with kids in tow, he sat his new toy on the hood of his car. With dread in his heart a few hours later, realizing what he had done, he set out to find if what he feared was true. After searching for a long while, he finds his new toy in a busy intersection, smashed to pieces!
He was mad, to say the least. Mad it was wasted money, mad it couldn’t be fixed, mad he hadn’t really got to enjoy it at all, but mostly just mad at himself for being so careless!
We all get this way from time to time; careless about what we are doing. We get distracted only to find out, after the fact, what a mess we made. At those times do you beat yourself up? Do you let it ruin your day because of a careless mistake?
Could you offer grace? Yes, grace to yourself for making a mistake? Seems like an odd request, but forgiving ourselves appears to be really hard. We don’t like to mess up. It makes us feel stupid, inadequate and forgetful.
My son verbally calls himself a “dummy” when he messes up. Angry that he, once again messed up, he begins to self-condemn. He moves from making a simple mistake to calling himself the mistake!
As adults I think we do this in more subtle ways. Yet, our self-talk, name calling, and self-defeat, is destructive all the same.
If we let our mistakes control our thinking of who we are, we have already been defeated. We might as well pack our bags and just head to the couch with a gallon of ice cream.
God offers us grace. We offer grace to others. Let’s try to offer grace to ourselves every once in a while.
“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” (2 Cor. 12:9).
God made each of us and loves us so much that He sent His one and only Son to die on the cross for our sins, our mistakes (John 3:16). Yes, we need to repent of our sin and call on Him to forgive us. But once we do, let’s remember that He cast them as far as the east is to the west (Psalm 103:12). Therefore, we can move past those mistakes and move forward to what God has in store for us!
Ultimately, we are weak individuals who will make mistakes, a lot of mistakes! Let’s lighten up on ourselves and offer some grace!
by Angela Sanders | Dec 18, 2018
“Don’t wish away time,” Grandmother used to say, so I’ve tried my very best not to.
I didn’t wish away the newlywed stage, but let conversation with Todd wander, gave laughter time to bubble up, and studied my new husband’s face until I had it memorized.
I didn’t wish away the baby stage, but rocked and sang, cooed and cuddled, and worked hard for those great big belly laughs.
I didn’t wish away childhood, but indulged our children’s silliness, asked open-ended questions, and gave them time to explore and express their imaginations.
I didn’t wish away the teen years, but gave them a chance to process, encouraged the development of their skill sets, and waited for their unique personalities to fully bloom.
I’m so thankful for Grandmother’s wisdom.
Life isn’t all roses and sunshine, though, and Todd and I have shouldered our share of strife.
Family stress. Financial strain. Career challenges. Poor health. These seasons, I did wish away—with all my heart and way too much of my mind.
Grandmother also used to say, “This too shall pass,” and, thankfully, it did.
Trouble is, by the time family stress was over, Todd and I weren’t alone anymore. By the time we experienced some financial relief, that sweet baby smell had faded. By the time certain career challenges had been hurdled, games of make-believe were just a memory, and when the shadow of illness lifted, our teens had already grown and flown.
Truth? If I could do it all over again, I would, even if it meant more suffering. This time, though, I’d fret less and trust God more so I could fully enjoy the moments I meant to treasure.
We don’t get do-over’s, friends, and tomorrow isn’t promised. Be wise.
This moment? It too shall pass.
by Angela Sanders | Nov 20, 2018
It’s been three months. Three slow, surreal months since my mother-in-law, my God-given Naomi, passed from this life and stepped into her eternal reward. Final bills have been paid. Most keepsakes have been distributed, and that which can be left until spring has been tucked away until everyone is ready to pick up where we left off.
It’s time now to huddle up and focus on the holidays and each other.
Things will be different this year, of course. The shopping list will be shorter. There will be gaping holes in our schedule, and laughter of a certain timbre and intensity will be noticeably absent, to name a few.
It will hurt. Deeply.
But I know this: God will be there, carrying us, comforting us, and teaching us things humans only learn by walking paths none of us want to travel.
Here are a few things I’ve learned so far:
God’s grace really is sufficient.
Anyone who knows me knows that medical things freak me out. I’m the mom who couldn’t even take her kids to get their immunizations by herself because she would faint, so the idea of walking Brenda through her cancer journey was intimidating at best, a living nightmare at worst. The first time I stepped into the cancer center, my cheeks went prickly cold and my ears began to ring. I’ll never forget telling God there was no way I could do this even for a day, much less for an indeterminable stretch of time. In answer, He granted me an acute awareness of His presence that not only kept me from fainting that day, but enabled me to smile and crack jokes that eased everyone else’s tension.
Six long years later, I helped dress Brenda’s ulcerations, stayed in the room as the hospice nurse bathed her fragile body distorted by the cancer that was eating her up, and assisted her with more private needs. On her last day, I knelt in front of her, her forehead boring into mine as she fought nausea, a bucket between us. Her tiny arms hanging heavily on my shoulder, I inhaled her feverish exhale and absorbed the vibration of her every moan. As my emotional and physical strength cracked and shattered, God replaced it with His and made me what I needed to be.
Death itself is a non-event.
In the months leading up to her physical death, Todd and I spent a lot of time and energy anticipating Brenda’s final moments. Wanting those moments to be the very best they could possibly be for her, we shared our hearts early, read Scripture over her, over-communicated details to one another, and juggled schedules to make sure we didn’t miss the difficult, but fruitful struggle we’d built up in our imaginations. It never happened.
When Brenda’s time came, her soul simply stepped out of her body into eternity like anyone steps from one room into another, the transition imperceptible but for the absence of her labored breath. And that was it. A split second, and she was free. No struggle. No pain. Just peace. When it was over, I actually felt a little silly for dreading it and wondered whether Brenda would have chosen the agony of prolonged resistance if she’d known all along what a non-event her moment of passing would turn out to be on this side.
Fear of anything but God is pointless.
Illness is scary, cancer in particular. There are worse afflictions, I’m sure, but cancer seems to be the beast with whom we are most familiar, the one whose shadow haunts the healthy. Because we know what it does to people, we dread hearing that word from a doctor’s lips. When you do, everything that seemed scary before fades into the background, not gone, but diminished in light of the news you just received. Suddenly, getting cancer before it gets you becomes the number one goal.
Except it can’t get you. Sure, cancer can take your strength, your mind, your body, but it can’t get YOU, the soul that lives on after the battle is over, no matter the outcome. This being true, the decision a person makes concerning the Gospel of Jesus Christ is more important than any decision they make concerning treatment options. Thankfully, Brenda put her faith in a crucified and resurrected Jesus, the sinless Son of God, for salvation from the consequences of sin when she was a young teenager. She wasn’t perfect by any stretch and would have been the first to admit that, but she always knew, deep down, that she was a permanently adopted child of Almighty God.
As tyrannical as Brenda’s illness proved to be, devouring her body before our very eyes, the lion Cancer turned kitten in the end, weaker than the hope Brenda had found in Jesus, limited in its reach as she slipped right out of its clutches, and small before the great big God that ultimately delivered His child safely home.
In a few weeks, they’ll lay a headstone on Brenda’s grave that reads, “See you soon!” at the bottom, a promise from us to her. Thanks to what I’ve learned through recent events, that’s a welcome thought now rather than the sort-of scary one it used to be, and I can run into the unmapped in-between, whatever it holds, with confidence and joy.
This holiday season, my thanksgiving will be better informed, and my worship of the King born to set us free will be more genuine and heartfelt. Yes, things will be different this year, but some of those changes will be good.