Meditations & Meanderings – Page 3

Silence

Posted on November 15, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

I’ve shared a lot lately about my struggle with writing. Too many words. Not enough words. Thoughts not coming together or not fitting the time. But, those aren’t the only issues. This political season and the nature of our division (not a historical first, by the way, either politically or religiously) also highlight another reality for me: sometimes I feel like there’s no way to truly reflect what’s going on in my head, so I stay silent.

The first time this struggle hit me very tangibly this was years ago when we were in a rough ministry season. I had a lot of thoughts. (My children would emphasize this power of this by capitalizing Thoughts and adding some type of trademark or copyright character to it. I love that!) And I wanted to process and even publish those thoughts. But, I knew that doing so could cause major issues. The things I said could, and most likely would, be misunderstood by people who could easily use them against my husband, if not my whole family.

So, what did I do? I stayed silent.

Unfortunately, the silence didn’t limit itself to those particular thoughts. I began to feel like I couldn’t say meaningful enough things for holidays or special occasions. So, where I once wrote sweet birthday greetings or extensive blog posts celebrating my husband and children…I pulled back on my words. Eventually, even there, I became silent.

Most recently, I’ve been silent regarding politics. Honestly, this is not new. I hate politics. Always have. I do not like the arguments and the debates. I’ve never been the quick-witted type of person who can enjoy them, much less readily participate in them. If I have the time to come up with my perspective, I can word it well. But, when it’s challenged, I need time to process and evaluate before I respond.

The sharp-tongued political scene does not lend itself to the “release my thoughts and then step back and let people do with them as they will” approach. It is, by nature, a back-and-forth, debate-and-argue area. An arena where I don’t fit.

So I stay silent.

The problem is that my silence still speaks. It lends itself to people assuming I agree or disagree with them simply because of my race, gender, religious affiliation, or “station” in life. But the truth is so much more complex. People I love dearly have aligned themselves with Democrats, Republicans, and various third parties. Other precious ones can’t really get behind any of the above. I have mentioned before that I am, by nature, an empath. A mediator of sorts. I hate arguments and debates partially because I am better at seeing multiple sides of a situation than I am at arguing one side or the other. I like mediating and helping people come together. See each other. Learn to love one another despite differences.

But that often leaves me seeming wishy-washy and as if I have no convictions of my own.

The truth is that I have strong convictions. Convictions that don’t fit neatly into any box. Convictions that would probably make the debaters on all sides somewhat angry with me because I didn’t agree enough with any of them. I’m not wishy-washy. I’m just weird. And it’s hard to express my weirdness without causing problems.

So I stay silent.

I honestly don’t know how to fix this. There are times I wish I had said things during the weeks leading up to the election. Times I wish I’d stood up to the hate seething from all sides. Times I wish I’d been able to make comments that helped entrenched minds stop and think about what they were saying. Not because I felt like I was right and they were wrong. But because I wanted to help them process how their words were impacting others.

I wish most of all that I’d spoken up more against the venom spewed by those who claim the Name of Christ. Those who have pushed people away from Him because of their approach to the political season. (And yes, I personally know people who are now much more closed to the Gospel because of the behavior of Christians during the election season.)

But I felt like my words would just cause more arguing. So, I stayed silent.

You can ask my family — I misspeak a lot. I say the wrong thing. I cause pain with my words. I respond in misunderstanding. I make comments, realize that what I’ve said reveals my ignorance, and wish I could take it back. I delete comments on social media or in private chats, even though I know deleting them won’t change them. I often even refrain from trying to explain myself because I know it will come out wrong.

It feels better to stay silent.

Except that there is a message I hold that must go out. It will not be popular. It will be misunderstood. And I may not express or explain it well. I will probably use the same words that others have used — words that trigger pain for people who have been abused by those claiming the Name of Christ — because I don’t know what other words to use. And, as a result, I will feel as if I, too, am misusing His Name.

That fear holds me back and makes me want to stay silent even in this. But I cannot. It is not better to stay silent when I know the words of life. I know the Giver of life. I know the One who can cause all of His children, even those who disagree politically, to live in unity. And when I hold this knowledge back silently because I’m afraid of saying it wrong, again, I’m living in sin.

Ouch.

I cannot stay silent.

My prayer is that I will learn to speak. I will learn to carry the words of the Spirit on my tongue and in my fingertips. That I won’t worry about what arguments or debates I spark by those words but will instead let the Spirit work His miracle through me, letting others see the love of Christ in me no matter how the words challenge and penetrate. Because I don’t want to give my opinion and my words. I want to give His.

I want to no longer be trapped in silence. Oh, Lord, let me become Your voice instead!

Editing

Posted on November 13, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

Lately, I’ve carried around thoughts that have been weighing on me for a while. Ideas that I’ve wanted to share but haven’t been sure how to. One day, the thoughts finally flowed. It worked. I was able to tap out hundreds of words. I won’t say it was easy, but it definitely didn’t feel like struggle and strain that had been plaguing me.

That is an oddity in my writing, to be honest. Some of it I can tap out quickly, edit quickly, and then post without concern. Some of it I can tap out quickly, but editing is a different story. It needs to sit and wait at least a day, and sometimes much more. A week or even a month or two. I process by blurting out my thoughts as quickly as they come, but then I am able to prayerfully review, asking the Lord for wisdom, guidance, and clarity as I edit and rewrite.

Some thoughts I tap out quickly then never publish. Others I labor over, starting and then stopping, somehow knowing when it’s finally solid. And then there are the times when the laborious approach means I never get around to finishing at all, which is what I’d feared would be the case with these recent thoughts. Sometimes that’s fine. Other times, it leads me to silence when I should be getting my thoughts out there.

In my younger years, I was a lot quicker to publish than I am these days. I wrote, edited, and then clicked that little button without much thought. Then I hit a stage of life where I doubted everything I wrote. So, even when I wrote and edited, I second guessed whether or not I should publish. More often than not, I never did, even with the most simple of posts.

I’m now coming back to the center of the pendulum swing, sometimes writing quickly and confidently and other times thinking and pondering a little more deeply. Obviously, I’m still learning. There are many things I say poorly. There are things I say that I shouldn’t. And other things that I should say but don’t. But I’m learning.

And I’m always editing. Always.

For today’s post, the question guiding both my writing and my editing is…what is the point? Why am I even writing this? (For the record, that sometimes shuts me down as well — I realize that I’m just jabbering with no real point.) I think the answer is this: our words are important. They matter. They should be shared. But they should all be shared carefully. Even the most mundane of statements needs to be held up against the backdrop of God’s Word.

It all needs editing.

I don’t always run a quick edit on my thoughts before they jump verbally from my mouth. I don’t always edit a text, Discord, or social media message before I hit enter. As a result, I often make huge mistakes despite innocent intentions. I cause hurt when I only wanted to help.

Editing doesn’t always solve that problem, but my goal is that I’ll learn more and more to heeding the Spirit’s guidance in editing every word I say or type. That I will listen to Him first. That I will be His conduit more than just someone who jabbers and writes.

Editing is the best avenue I know to accomplish that. It slows me down and makes me think.

Yes, I think that’s the point today. And it’s why you get this post today instead of the thoughts I’ve written but still need to process. Because editing is always important, and I want to be faithful to edit under the Lord’s guiding hand, whether I’m talking about editing or processing much deeper thoughts.

Faith Nuggets, Thoughts from Scripture

Able To Aid

Posted on November 6, 2024November 5, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

In full disclosure, I’ve been in a dry season when it comes to drawing from Scripture right now. I read faithfully. I process as best I can. But I’m struggling to draw out and engage with truths. In times like this, I find that going back and reviewing past journaling and writing is a huge help. It reminds me that this is just a phase and that sometimes I need to revisit old lessons and remember what I’ve forgotten. This just “happened” to be the old post I clicked on yesterday, and it was a reminder I so greatly needed in that moment. God is so faithful that He directs even my random clicks. I am thankful.

Some mornings as I sit down to process through my readings, I get sidetracked. This form of sidetracking isn’t by glancing at e-mails or Facebook, texting with a friend, or anything like that (although I confess that does happen far too often). In this particular instance, I’m referring to getting sidetracked by a verse that isn’t really part of the “point” for the day.

Then again, maybe it is. God has a funny way of doing that.

This week, the distraction was a passing devotional reference to a verse in Hebrews. It’s easy for me to get lazy and just ignore passing references like that, so years ago I determined to be intentional about looking up those references every time. Here’s what I read when I looked up this particular verse:

For since He Himself was tempted in that which He has suffered, He is able to come to the aid of those who are tempted. Hebrews 2:18 NASB (emphasis mine)

As I read these verses, I realized that I’ve always had an incomplete foundation when it comes to temptation. Had I ever stopped to process my understanding of how we are to biblically handle temptation, I would have realized that my foundation lacked something. But, until this week, I never gave it a second thought.

Here’s the foundation I’ve always had:

James 1 teaches that temptation is not of God, and I must flee it.
1 Corinthians 10:13 shows me that God will provide a way of escape from temptation.
I still fall to temptation, but the blood of Jesus covers me, and I can come before Him in repentance and receive forgiveness even when I do not take the way of escape.

But, looking at Hebrews 2, there’s something else I was missing. Another crucial truth: I don’t have to run away on my own strength. I don’t have to find the escape with my own clouded vision. Jesus is able (and therefore willing) to come to my aid!

That is so logical. It’s so clear. It’s nothing really new. Yet, how often do I act on it?

I confess, often when I’m struggling against temptation, I feel too weak to even look for the way of escape. But my precious Savior has not left me to do it on my own. He is ready and able to help. I just have to call on Him.

He is my way of escape.

We cannot fight temptation on our own. We do not have the strength. (If we did, we wouldn’t need Christ’s salvation.) Only with the Spirit living within us can we walk through the escape provided. But in the ugliness of our temptation, we don’t feel able or worthy or permitted to call upon the purity that is Jesus Christ.

But oh how opposite from truth that is!

No, we’re not worthy, even at our best. But able? It only takes a plea for help! Oh, and the most glorious part is that we’re not only permitted, we’re invited. Welcomed. Encouraged. Admonished. Instructed. Commanded, even, to call upon Jesus.

And how do we remember that in the throes of temptation? How do we fight the darkness enough to convince ourselves that we can call upon Jesus for aid? By memorizing this verse now (and maybe a few around it – the whole context is powerful!), putting it in our arsenal so the Spirit can bring it to our minds in the moment of weakness.

He is able to come to my aid. Oh what a glorious truth!

Faith Nuggets, Thoughts, Thoughts from Scripture

A Light to My Path

Posted on November 4, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

Over the course of the next week, I’ll wrap up another slow read through Psalm 119. So, this seemed to be an appropriate time for this reminder…and to republish this old post.

How many of us memorized Psalm 119:105 as children?

Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

I can hear the lessons that go along with it, too. “Remember children, if you follow God’s Word, your path will always be lit.”

Yet, as with many verses we snag and cling to, it’s so easy to miss the bigger context. Even though context has been drilled into my head, I still make that mistake. I jump on the familiar and miss the fullness of what’s being said.

It’s especially easy to do that with Psalm 119 because it’s a long chapter with so many great nuggets. But this psalm – actually one of my all-time favorites – is more than just a long chapter full of one-liners. In reality, Psalm 119 is a Hebrew acrostic celebrating Scripture.

Have you ever noticed the little heading above each section? Headings like “aleph” and “beth” – all the way through to “tav” at the end. Those are the letters of the Hebrew alphabet. Each of the eight-verse sections, when read in Hebrew, starts with a different letter of the alphabet. Each line in that section starts with the same letter. So, Psalm 119 is a poem celebrating God’s word – a beautiful poem with twenty-two stanzas.

Recently, I read back through this psalm again, two or three sections a day. This slow reading forced me, once again, to ponder the relationship between the lines, the connection and flow of the poem. Psalm 119:105, for instance, is the first verse of the “nun” stanza. This verse ties in with the next seven verses to create a single train of thought regarding Scripture.

105 Your word is a lamp to my feet
And a light to my path.
106 I have sworn and I will confirm it,
That I will keep Your righteous ordinances.
107 I am exceedingly afflicted;
Revive me, O Lord, according to Your word.
108 O accept the freewill offerings of my mouth, O Lord,
And teach me Your ordinances.
109 My life is continually in my hand,
Yet I do not forget Your law.
110 The wicked have laid a snare for me,
Yet I have not gone astray from Your precepts.
111 I have inherited Your testimonies forever,
For they are the joy of my heart.
112 I have inclined my heart to perform Your statutes
Forever, even to the end.

Can you see the image of a heavily burdened child of God as you read these verses? He’s attacked and overwhelmed by enemies. But, God’s Word alone keeps him on the path. God’s Word strengthens his heart. God’s Word prevents him from allowing his troubles to derail him.

When I consider verse 105 in this context, I realize that it does not say that God’s Word is a lamp to our feet on a well-trodden, familiar path that just looks a little strange in the half-light of dusk.

No, this is a strange path filled with uncertainty. Doubt haunts every step. Will our feet land in safety? Or is there a trap? Will we trip on something? Or will be continue on with solid footing?

Oh, and it’s dark all around us. So very dark. The only true light we have is from God’s Word. Period.

But here’s the best part: God’s Word is enough. More than enough, in fact. His Word is the only light we need to keep us from going astray from His precepts.

May we never stop with our childhood memories of well-known Scripture. May we instead dig ever deeper, discovering the power of gems like Psalm 119:105.

Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Scripture

The Place of Impact

Posted on November 1, 2024November 1, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

If you’ve ever sought out advice about how to read the Bible, you’ve probably received a wide variety of recommendations. Some will suggest that you should read the Bible straight through from cover to cover every single year. Or, if not cover to cover, then in chronological order. But, definitely the whole thing. Every year.

Others suggest that if you read that quickly, you’ll miss details. So, you should focus in on individual books of the Bible and take as long as you need to explore them from year to year. It might be three, five, or more years before you get through the whole Bible, but the close focus is more important than getting all the way through.

As with much advice passed around in life, advice about how to approach Bible reading is frequently presented as one or the other with no in-between. There’s a right way and a wrong way. Which one are you going to pick?

If I’ve learned anything about advice over the years, it’s that the real solution is rarely black and white. It almost never falls to one extreme or the other. The best spot is somewhere in the middle. With Scripture reading, it’s a both-and approach. Get the big picture and get the details. We need both.

Recently, though, I realized that even that is not complete advice simply because it’s not a one-time thing. It’s not a situation of reading the Bible through one year to get the big picture, then slowing down from then on to get the details. It’s important to go back and forth. Get the big picture, get the details, then apply the details back onto the big picture again. And repeat. Again and again and again.

This reality was highlighted for me when preparing to teach a lesson from Philippians 3. All of it. Crammed into one short lesson.

Now, I love Philippians. It’s such a practical epistle, giving solid instruction. It’s also so…cheerful. It makes me smile and reminds me that healthy community is possible. But, let me tell you, there is a lot packed into that short epistle. And as I studied, I was overwhelmed by it all. I know Philippians well, having studied it deeply on multiple occasions. I have explored the big picture. I’ve focused on the details. I’ve studied and explored and learned so very much.

In this particular instance, though, that knowledge was working against me. I spent the entire week trying to figure out how to summarize the details of a whole chapter and do it in a way that was coherent and meaningful for a youth Sunday school lesson. I never could quite get it. It wasn’t until Sunday morning, day of the lesson, that I finally had my “aha” moment. I finally remembered to step back again. To take in the context of the whole epistle. To see where chapter 3 fit into the overall flow.

(To be completely transparent, I’m pretty sure the Spirit had been whispering that to me all week, but I’m pretty hard-headed sometimes and don’t listen well.)

As soon as I stepped back, the patterns showed up. I began to see how the various parts of chapter three all intertwined. No, we didn’t have time for the details. But we had time for a meaningful lesson.

I don’t say all of this to give my own brand of advice. I share this to remind us to wash all advice, especially advice on walking with Christ, through the lens of experience. Activity. Actually doing the walking while following the leadership of the Holy Spirit. A novel concept, I know.

We often don’t know what we’re missing in our studies of Scripture until we are pressed to share what we’ve learned with other people. Likewise, we don’t really see what’s missing in a lot of our pat spiritual answers until we’ve had to drag our methods, beliefs, and preconceived ideas through the realities of life. And sometimes those realities are a little messy — muddy, even.

My one-week experience of studying Philippians 3 for a Sunday school lesson was a small drop in the bucket of my overall life. But, that experience very much exemplifies how I need to pattern my life as a follower of Christ. The big picture view of Christian experience, idealistic though it may be, is very critical to our growth. The nitty gritty details — represented by our focus on how the Word and our faith speaks into today’s challenges, needs, and struggles — are also critical. Both grow us. They hone our listening skills and help us see Christ at work all around us, at every turn. In all honesty, though, they tend to limit us to a combination of idealism and very specific, personal application.

If we’re going to impact the world around us and give our neighbors a vision of Christ’s love for them, we have to move beyond both idealism and personal application. Fortunately, when we allow the Holy Spirit to be active and alive within us, He has the ability to merge the two and communicate the powerful love of God to those around us in a way that speaks to their own idealism and personal needs. He can handle using our growth to speak into the messy realities of the lives around us.

That’s where I want to live. In the place where both my big picture idealism and detailed experiences can truly be used by the Spirit to impact the life of another.

Thoughts from Kids

Giving Life

Posted on October 30, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

I’m struggling to find words. Not ideas. Just the words to share those ideas in a way that is kind and loving and not grumpy or angry. I’ve written and rewritten. Edited and tweaked. Debated.

You see, I have a component to my personality that can sometimes be beneficial, but other times it’s a bit of a nuisance. I can easily see multiple perspectives of a story. I can understand, and even empathize with, two sides of an argument — yes, even when my own opinions fall heavily on one side or the other. While I can’t always envision how our actions and words will ripple into the future (my husband is a genius at that!), I can see multiple responses to situations happening in the moment. And in this moment, that vision is breaking my heart. And I want to share it so other people can understand. But can I? Here’s my attempt, feeble though it may be.

We’re heading into the time of year when stories of generosity will flood our media. We’ll be drawn to the heartwarming tales of people whose lives were impacted by extravagant gifts as well as to the people or organizations that make those gifts happen.

We as Christians love to not only hear these stories but to also find a way to be a part of these stories. We want to show how we are being the generous hands and feet of Jesus. On the one hand, it’s not a bad thing to be active participants in these stories. But there’s another side to this tale that we also need to consider, and that’s the side of the everyday people who are watching as we broadly and boldly declare our generous acts for all to see.

We need to consider the grocery store cashier or restaurant server who is hoping and begging for enough hours to simply pay their bills. They have no clue how they’ll go beyond that and be able to give gifts to their loved ones. But, they watch as the church crowd floods their workplaces, still dressed in our Sunday best and talking about the sweet time we had blessing gifts to be sent out to the uttermost parts of the world. But, even as we talk about our own generosity, we’ve already turned off our Christ-like attitudes to the people serving us. We are rude. We are demanding. And we are the opposite of generous. They watch as we come into their stores or to their teller windows harried and grumpy. They deliver our packages or take our customer service complaints. We end up taking out our frustration on them because they are…there. They’re just faces waiting to meet our needs or voices on the other end of the phone call to hear our complaints. It’s not that we’d ever admit to seeing them as sub-human. It’s just that we don’t stop and think of them as individuals with their own joys and hurts and struggles and passions. They’re just there to take care of our immediate needs, and then we move on and they keep on. As a result, we’re not careful with how we handle their hearts.

The thing is, they see us. They hear our conversations and see the news flashes about how we’ve delivered Thanksgiving meals to the poor, packed Christmas shoe boxes, fulfilled Angel Tree wishes, and more. They see how we broadcast our giving. They see the pretties we put on picture-perfect social media. The stories that go up in shining lights because they make us feel good. (Matthew 6 kind of punches me in the gut right here.) But then they feel the brunt of our reality. Our harried lives. Our stresses and strains. Our hurts that twist our actions. All of which we end up taking out on them.

It’s may not be intentional on our part. It’s just…life.

But maybe that’s my point. My heart is aching because of the way we live life. It’s aching because we are so concerned that other people know we’re participating in the socially acceptable modes of alms-giving that it distracts us from the act of giving life to others. Because what better gift could there be?

And yet, in many cases, we’re giving the opposite. We’re giving hopelessness. We’re removing the chance for so many people to see the goodness of God because we’re focused on our heartwarming stories instead of on speaking love into their everyday stories of hurt. They don’t see God’s goodness lavished on them. They just see that they’re not worthy of it. They perceive that God only wants to give when it makes for a good story, and they’ll never be a good enough story.

Ouch.

I’m not saying that we should stop our generosity. When we are able to give gifts this time of year, they do make a difference, as they do when we help meet needs of teachers and students at the beginning of a school year or take action to help alleviate the massive food insecurity that exists right around us.

But I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we would put more energy into daily life-giving than into making sure our community knows what kind of gift-giving we’ve chosen this year. What would happen if we were to bestow kindness upon the store clerk who rings up the gifts we’re purchasing? What would happen if we were able to deliver a Thanksgiving meal without making the recipient feel the shame that comes from needing it in the first place?

What if instead of trying to engage in elaborate, life-changing events, we were to change the way we live our daily lives? Could it be that we wouldn’t need the elaborate because the daily, mundane activities would make the difference? It would be without fanfare. It might not even make for a feel-good story to share. But it could give life. What better gift exists?

Thoughts from Life

Obedience

Posted on October 25, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

Have you ever stopped to question why disobedience happens? Why do children disobey their parents? Why do employees disobey their bosses? Why have God’s people disobeyed Him throughout history?

We all like to fall back on the simple answers of rebellion and pride. And those are relevant answers. And for some people, that really is the crux of the matter. They don’t want anyone telling them what to do. But often even those reasons spring out of something deeper.

Obedience is scary.

Obedience requires us to trust that what someone else tells us to do is the right thing. That if it all falls apart, they will be there to bear the weight of the failure.

And obeying God? On the one hand, that should be easier because He’s perfect and infallible. He sees all and knows all. But He’s also unseen and incomprehensible. Sometimes His instructions don’t seem to make sense and we second guess whether we even heard Him right or not. I mean, we have the Bible and can see the miracles there, but does that really translate to now? Does He still really work that way?

It’s not just the big things, either. Today I’m struggling with something as simple as writing. I find myself wanting to do just about anything else. I feel like He’s given me the instruction to write. But since I have tried to reinstate the habit of writing, I’ve struggled so much with knowing what to write. Or, when I do have an idea, I struggle with being able to translate the thoughts in my head into something communicable.

And what happens on the days when I just can’t? When I can’t come up with anything to write? Or what if I write something that is just…wrong? Or something that discourages when I intend to encourage? Or something that comes from a place of naiveté or ignorance? What if I’m incapable of obedience because of all of the road blocks I’ve hit when I’ve tried to do these things in the past? What if I get it all wrong?

And that’s just writing. Something simple and, in the grand scheme of things, pretty benign since I write for my own simple blog with no more than a handful of followers. If something that tame is scary, how much more so are the “big” things.

Obedience is scary.

But the truth is that trusting in myself is even scarier. I will definitely get it all wrong on my own. I need instruction and guidance.

That’s why obedience is the epitome of faith. It is acting on the trust that God really does know what He’s talking about. But, it’s also trusting that He is powerful enough not only to command but also to communicate.

I know my hearing is faulty. I know I struggle with wisdom. But, God is big enough to make His will known, even if it means getting through to someone as hard of hearing and doubtful as I am.

He can do it. And I can trust Him.

Yes, obedience is scary. But when I’m in the hands of my loving, almighty God, it’s the safest place to be because He has promised to guide me. When I remember that, I can even place my fear in His hands. Because He promised to take that, too.

Thoughts, What I Do

When I Don’t Know What to Do

Posted on October 18, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

It’s always amazing to me how, even as we grow, we face similar struggles at each level of growth. There are new dynamics, and old lessons means we have different tools to use as we work through the struggles than we might have in earlier seasons. But, the struggles carry a similarity, allowing us to need reminders of what we’ve learned in the past.

Today is a good example for me. This is another old post, one from over eight years ago. But it was a timely reminder today, one I needed in facing some of the struggles around me right now. I’m thankful both for reminders of growth and reminders of the tools I have in place to handle the things I’m facing today.

Have you ever been pulled from a place of belonging into a phase of uncertainty? From a place of confidence in your skills to a moment of feeling as if you really have nothing to offer? What do you do in those moments?

Hold Loosely

Last week, a sermon illustration reminded me of the importance of holding everything so very loosely. Allowing God to give and take away for His glory. It was not a new concept. I’ve heard it time and time again – and tried to live by it diligently. Yet, while standing in the middle of a long stretch of time in which my confidence has been challenged again and again, God knew I needed the reminder to hold loosely to everything.

So, what do you do when you don’t know what to do? You hold loosely. Surrender. Trust.

Admittedly, I don’t do any of that easily. Especially when my confidence is being stripped. When I feel like I don’t really have a place. When it seems as if I’m not doing anything well – or that I’m outright failing.

But the Lord never promised it would come easily. In fact, He promised suffering. He promised struggle. He promised challenge.

And He promised Himself right in the middle of it.

He Does Best When I Can’t

I know this all seems much more spiritual than practical. But, in truth, it’s very practical. Because what I do – every single aspect of what I do – is riddled with insecurity. I never experience a day when I don’t feel like I am failing in at least one area of life – being a wife or a mom or a pastor’s wife or a teacher or an editor or an employee or a whatever-else-I’m-doing-at-the-moment. Or all of the above.

Only when I hold it all loosely is the Holy Spirit capable of performing the jobs through me. And only then do I see success.

That makes “holding loosely” a very practical part of what I do. Even if it’s a part I forget regularly and have to be reminded of.

Hold loosely, my friend. Be ready to let Christ be the success, not you.

And be ready to remind me of this very thing tomorrow, because I’ll need it!

Faith Nuggets, Thoughts, Thoughts from Scripture

In

Posted on October 16, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

Some time ago, I was praying over some particularly challenging needs. As I prayed, one of my go-to passages popped into mind: Philippians 4:4-8. But, somehow, I didn’t get far past “rejoice in the Lord.”

Actually, I got hung up on one word: in.

It’s easy to fly over that phrase and not truly stop to ponder what it means. “Rejoice in the Lord.”

Okay, Lord, let me see what I can be thankful for right now. It’s hard, because I’m overwhelmed by the circumstances, but I’ll try. Maybe. Yes…here goes. Oh, Lord, HELP!!!!

Unfortunately, that’s usually how it sounds when I try to start my prayer with thankfulness. But, here’s the problem. I’m still focused on circumstances. I’m just trying to find some way to be thankful for them.

And there’s another problem. Thanksgiving is not actually what this phrase commands. The whole thankfulness instruction comes later in the “in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving” part. For now, it is simply “rejoice in the Lord.”

So many times I get stuck on word “rejoice.” I stop there and wonder why it is so hard to obey that simple command.

I confess I have to laugh a bit as I process through this. Why? Because this is a grammar issue more than a heart or mind issue. And as an editor, I’m all about grammar! Will you bear with me for a moment while we look at this phrase through an editor’s eyes?

For those of you who aren’t too fond of grammar, let me try to give a quick, simple explanation. We have two grammatical components to deal with here. First, we have an imperative. An imperative is a command, often encapsulated in a single word. Second, we see a prepositional phrase. A preposition is a word that lends a sense of direction, like in, of, for, to, under, over, etc. It is followed by a noun called the object of the preposition, telling you to whom or what the direction relates (under the table). Together, they make up the prepositional phrase.

The thing about a preposition is that, unlike a single-word imperative, the whole phrase is what’s actually important. A preposition on its own doesn’t mean much until you add the object. The single word leaves you waiting for more. The whole phrase put together is what gives a sense of meaning.

So, what’s in this verse?

Rejoice (imperative) in (preposition) the Lord (object of the preposition).

What happens if we don’t stop with the imperative, but continue on to the prepositional phrase? What if we make sure we move on to in the Lord without getting stuck on rejoice?

I know what happens to me. I get a refocus. I find myself in the center of Him instead of in the center of my circumstances. I am moved. Transformed. Lifted. The circumstances don’t change, but I do. And it makes all the difference.

When I rejoice in the Lord, the following commands come much more easily:
– let your gentle spirit be known to all men
– pray with thanksgiving
– think on these things

Yes, it’s all a natural progression, but only if I start by truly rejoicing in the Lord.

Thoughts from Life

Rain

Posted on October 14, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

As I look out the window this morning, I see bright sunshine. I do enjoy sunshine. I need it after a long stretch of clouds and gloom. But, right now we have a bit too much of it. We’ve gone long stretches with all sunshine and no rain, and there is no rain in the forecast. In fact, they are saying we may go the whole month without a drop.

If I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that I’m grieving the lack of rain.

You see, I love rain. Not necessarily the dark and gloom, especially if it’s just cloudy with no rain falling. On those days, I’d rather have sunshine. But as long as it’s dripping and wet, the gloom doesn’t bother me. I’ll turn on those extra lights while I wait for the sun, but the truth is that it will take me long time to get tired of the rain. And I’m almost always sad to see it go, even when we’ve had too much and I know we don’t need more.

My love for rain probably comes from spending many of my growing up years in a desert climate. As the last of the winter rains dwindled away and the spring sun came out, the hills around us would erupt in a beautiful array of colors as poppies, irises (especially the dark purple, almost black Gilead iris that only grows in those hills), and other wildflowers overtook the landscape. But, they never lasted long. Within a couple of weeks, the flowers were dead and any grass that had sprouted up was already starting to turn brown.

As much as I loved wildflower season, I also knew what it meant. We’d have at least eight, and possibly as many as ten, months of complete dryness. Not a single drop of rain. Not even a hint of a cloud. The sky would go from brilliant blue to dusty brown. As summer progressed and the land completely dried out, massive dust storms would roll over us as thick as winter fog.

When the rains finally returned sometime between October and December, the first shower would often look more like mud than rain as it washed the dust out of the air. We didn’t care, though. We’d be out in it, dancing and laughing as we welcomed each drop. Those first rains meant cleansing. They meant that we could breathe. They meant a few months of relief from the heat. They meant blue skies and green hills, at least for a couple of weeks before cold set in and chased the grass away again.

And to this day, I welcome rain with relish.

That’s not what everyone feels when they look out the window and see rain. Some people see the gloom and desperately need the sun, even knowing that the rain is necessary. Some people are hounded with memories, not of dancing in the welcome rain, but of the destruction that so often comes with the rain. Havoc wreaked by storm lines or hurricanes, as we’ve seen horrific evidence of lately. Crops destroyed by too much rain or by hard rain at hard times. Dangerous flash floods from a sudden rainburst.

Or, perhaps the memories are less general and more personal. Ruined plans. Getting in trouble because of not having an outlet to release energy when trapped indoors by the weather.

The thing that brings me such joy can also bring incredible pain. I’ve been there. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived with the consequences. And I so very much understand that those experiences cause some people to dread even the thought of rain, no matter how much it’s needed.

Joy and grief are like that. They intermingle but they also fight for top billing in our hearts. Sometimes the joy wins, while other times the grief is overwhelming. And in the process, we feel our own feelings and wonder how someone else can possibly feel differently. How can someone else hate rain so much when it’s so life-giving? How can someone else long for rain when the sun shining from a cloudless sky is so nourishing?

More confusing of all is when all of those feelings clash in our own hearts. When we desperately need the cleansing rain but just as desperately need the light of the sun. When our circumstances are washing out the dirt and yuck in our hearts but what we achingly hunger for is to just be clean and light and happy again.

We live in a fallen world that needs both clouds and sun, rain and dry. Neither is perfect, but both are good. Scripture tells us that nature itself groans as it waits for the perfection to be restored. For it all to be good without any mix of bad. But we’re not there yet. So, we have to learn what it means to live with it all.

We have to learn to embrace what we love while ministering to those who ache in those same moments. We have to learn to both laugh and cry with one another without sacrificing our own joy and tears.

There’s no easy answer to it. Today as I stare out at the sunshine, I admit that my soul is feeling parched along with the dry ground. But, even while I pray for an unexpected soaking rain, both for the ground and for my soul, I’m rejoicing over the light shining on both. That intermingling of joy and grief. That knowledge that God is growing me with His light, even when I feel parched. The truth that, when the rains come and there are others who feel like they are drowning, I can empathize with and pray for them even as they can for my parched soul today.

And one day, we’ll rejoice in the perfection, all receiving nourishing together. That’s the day I long for.