Category: Thoughts from Life

Posted in Thoughts from Life

What to Say

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I’ve been writing for a long time. Sometimes it’s easy to share my thoughts. Other times, they form easily in my head, but I struggle to get them out — to communicate them well.

Then there are those times when I honestly don’t know what to say. I feel that anything I have to contribute would be trite and make light of something that I really do take seriously. September 11 is always one of those days. Many years I’ve chosen to skip writing or posting on social media at all because I don’t know how to communicate anything relevant, and I fear that my “normal life” comments will be wrong somehow.

But even though I might not know what to say, I strongly remember the feelings. I remember the details. I remember the impact. I remember feeling odd because the events of that day and the days to follow impacted me strongly even though I didn’t personally know anyone who lost their life or lost a family member.

I remember. And I feel it.

And it dawned on me that maybe that’s what I have to say today. Maybe I have words of encouragement for others who keep silent on commemoration days. Or during hard situations. Or in the midst of heart-rending controversies. I see you. I understand. I get that you aren’t silent because you lack feelings or opinions. You’re not ignoring anything. Instead, you are bearing it silently because you do not want to diminish in any way. Or perhaps you are engaging more locally and personally, face to face with those around you. Maybe you are doing your best to invest in whatever way you can, but it’s just not as visible or eloquent or far-reaching as the investment of others.

That’s okay. It’s good even. We need it all. We need those who can be publicly eloquent, moving us and reminding us to never forget. We need those who shine a bold and bright light on evils that would prefer to grow in darkness. We need those who know what to say.

But we also need those who know when their silence is better. Who know when a hug for a neighbor is better than a post on social media. When a close action comes more naturally than a public statement.

My one request is this: whatever our form of expression, may it be real. Whether we do so in public protest or in quiet work, may we never cease to fight against injustice. May we lift up the crushed and oppressed, offer genuine and valid comfort for those in agony, and always put our actions behind our words, whether they are declared publicly or spoken softly.

May it always be real.

Posted in Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Scripture

Thoughts from Moses

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Do you ever look at certain stories in the Bible and wonder how in the world people can respond the way they do? I do. Moses’ behavior in Exodus 3-4 is one example. Here Moses is, standing in front of a bush that is on fire but not being destroyed, talking to Almighty God. And what does he do? He argues.

Well, at first he’s afraid, which is a very natural response. And he sees his own inadequacies in the face of a holy, awesome God. Again, not only natural, but very appropriate.

But, then Moses goes above and beyond the point of recognizing his inadequacies. He starts arguing to the point of informing God that He’s wrong. Ouch! It’s easy to condemn Moses for his behavior. But, I can’t help but want to dig deeper. Why would Moses go to such extremes?

I think the answer might lie in Exodus 2, in the hands of the fellow Hebrews Moses simply wanted to help.

Years later, after Moses had grown up, he went out to his own people and observed their forced labor. He saw an Egyptian striking a Hebrew, one of his people. Looking all around and seeing no one, he struck the Egyptian dead and hid him in the sand. The next day he went out and saw two Hebrews fighting. He asked the one in the wrong, “Why are you attacking your neighbor?”

“Who made you a commander and judge over us?” the man replied. “Are you planning to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?”

Then Moses became afraid and thought, “What I did is certainly known.”

When Pharaoh heard about this, he tried to kill Moses. But Moses fled from Pharaoh and went to live in the land of Midian, and sat down by a well. – Exodus 2:11-15

Keep in mind that Moses was called and preserved from birth for the purpose of being used by God to free the Israelites. He might not yet have known how to listen to God’s plan, but he already had a huge burden for the people of God.

Yet even from the very beginning, the people he wanted to help lashed out at him, rejecting his help. (And this would be repeated so very many times over the next forty years.) They may even have been the reason Pharaoh learned about the murder. Now, don’t get me wrong — I don’t believe Moses was in the right here in his choice to kill the Egyptian. I believe he let his passion rule, and God needed to get ahold of him and teach him a lot. Even so, being attacked by the very people he thought he was helping had to leave a wound.

A wound that seemed to still be bothersome forty years after Moses fled Egypt.

A wound that had settled in so firmly that he seemed to honestly believe Almighty God, the great I AM, didn’t really know what He was talking about.

Obviously, Scripture doesn’t explicitly say, “Moses didn’t believe God because he’d been deeply hurt by the Hebrews before, and he didn’t think it was possible for them to accept him as their leader no matter what I AM said.” But I’ve seen what the wounds from a friend can do.

I’ve seen someone express passion and excitement because God was working and it was visible. The delight in being a part of that work was so tangible! But, doubt began to creep in. Then an attack came. Not from the world, but from a friend. From a beloved fellow Christian. And the wound struck so deep that it overcame the passion and excitement. Delight turned into confusion and an insatiable urge to just escape. Walk away from all of the work. Walk away from being used by God. Hide and never feel that hurt again.

I’ve not just seen that hurt in others. I’ve felt it myself, so very strongly. It’s a deep wound.

Cherished loved ones can hurt us. Those who should be our allies can derail us. Friends can deceive and incapacitate us. The most tragic reality is that the actions of fellow believers can convince us that the all-powerful, almighty, unfailing, all-knowing, loving God who called us doesn’t know what He’s talking about. Yes, we can and do respond just like Moses did. Ouch.

And more often than not, they aren’t doing it intentionally. They’re just acting out of a focus on self instead of on God and others. It’s easy to do. We’ve all been there, especially when we’re struggling with something. Think about the Israelites. Their problem wasn’t really with Moses. It was with their oppressors. They were tired. Weighted down. And lashing out at the most available person — who just happened to be the person who wanted to help them.

No wonder Scripture tells us so many times to encourage one another. To build one another up. To be a community of unity. Of nourishment. Of exhortation. Yes, to call out sin in one another, but never, ever, ever to tear one another down. Because we have to be reminded to look beyond ourselves. We don’t remember on our own.

God’s enemy wants to divide us. He wants to isolate us. He wants to cause disunity among us. Because when he does, he can cause us to doubt God’s calling. He can drive us to argue that we’re not enough. And when we’re alone, we’re not enough. But when we’re together, serving our Lord God in the unifying power of His Spirit, nothing can stop us.

Which option will we choose?

Posted in Thoughts from Life, What I'm Learning

Frogging

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I recently started knitting a sweater. This is a big deal for me. Most of my knitting attempts have been things like dish cloths or squares that I’d eventually assemble into a blanket. Or a simple lace shawl. All things with very clear-cut pattern instructions. Nothing big or major.

Then I saw a sweater pattern in one of my daughter’s pattern books, and I fell in love. I also realized that the pattern would let me use some yarn that had been in my stockpile for years. It’s so very soft, and I’d long wanted to use it for a sweater. But, I was about a skein short for any of the sweater patterns I’d found. This pattern allowed me to mix that yarn with a couple of other colors. Perfect!

Right.

Following a full pattern for building a sweater is very different from reading a pattern chart to create a fun design in a square. Or even from learning a sequence that creates a lace pattern and allows increases and decreases. Following this type of pattern requires knowing that M1 means “make one” and then knowing what your options are for “making” a stitch where one currently doesn’t exist. It means knowing how to knit short row and what DS both stands for and means.

Are you lost yet? I know the feeling!

Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned the color work. I’ve done knitting where you change colors between rows. But, knitting where you work back and forth between two colors to create a pattern? Yeah, this is a first for me.

But, I was determined to give this a shot, so I got started. My first time through, I had a lot of snags and pulls before I ever got through the the first ten rows of stitches. So, I pulled it out and started again. The second try looked much better, but then I realized I did not, in fact, make my short rows correctly, and there were holes that shouldn’t be there. No worries. I knew a way to fix that…later.

I finally got to the color work section, and I discovered that it was much easier — and more fun — than expected! Unfortunately, I got to the end of the nine rows of that small color working section, only to realize I had miscounted a small section in the front…on the very first row. I though I’d been paying attention the whole time to make sure the pattern was working right. But, I’d missed that one part. Two dozen stitches or less. But enough. And front and center on the neckline.

I had to frog it all. Again. (And I had to look up why pulling out work is called “frogging.” I’d heard it for years but never understood it, and for some reason it suddenly became very important to know. Apparently, it’s because when you mumble, “Rip it! Rip it!” as you are pulling out stitches, it sounds like “ribbit.” Sounds like as fun of an explanation as any!)

I frogged it. I restarted. Again. And I managed to make a nice, even starting chain. And a lovely ribbed neckline. And to create short rows with only a few gaps that will need to be closed instead of a lot. And then somehow mess up my count on an increase row. I was so frustrated at that point that I was ready to give up because I’m not great at frogging multiple rows without having to pull everything out and start again. Fortunately, my daughter came to my rescue and quickly got me back to a good spot.

Which let me get back to solid progress. And mostly correct counts on my increase rows (nothing that couldn’t easily be adjusted in the next row). And color work that I’m very proud of, both on the front and the back. And consistent tension on my even stitches.

Now, I’m well on my way to actually making my first sweater — one that I will hopefully be comfortable wearing because it looks decent!

Granted, I have a long way to go. But I’m getting there! And I’m learning so much through the repetition of frogging and restarting, getting a little more practice with new skills.

Having to ditch hard work is frustrating. Going back to square one because of yet another mistake is disheartening. But, when we keep trying, even after having to frog it all, we learn that we’ve grown. We see that trying again is paying off.

May we never be derailed by the frogging necessary in life, frustrating though it may be. May we instead embrace the learning and growing, recognizing that we are better because of the froggy moments in our lives.

Posted in Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Scripture

Words

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Have you ever stopped to really think about how we use words?

You might think that this would come naturally to a writer. That I would be deeply attentive to every word I use and its nuance. But, that’s not really true. I am as nonchalant about words as the next person, using vocabulary, phrases, and grammatical structures habitually, without stopping to really process whether or not I am truly communicating my thoughts well.

In fact, I did it in that last sentence. Think about the word “habitually” — or even “habit.” It is often used in a manner which indicates an action taken without thought. Do I really not think about how I use my words? That’s a ridiculous notion, to be honest. Although sometimes I do speak before I think — we all do that at times — typically even the “habitual” words and phrases I use are intentional choices to attempt to communicate well.

So, even though we might think that having a habit means the ability to do something so naturally that we don’t even think about it, the truth is that we don’t actually use the word “habit” that way.

Just to diverge for a moment, the top definition in Webster’s dictionary for habit is “a settled tendency or usual manner of behavior,” followed by the second definition, which includes, “an acquired mode of behavior that has become nearly or completely involuntary,” “addiction,” and “a behavior pattern acquired by frequent repetition or physiologic exposure that shows itself in regularity or increased facility of performance.” Oh, and if you keep looking, you’ll see older definitions related to clothing, appearance, or even the action of dressing oneself!1

If you’re anything like me, the next time you use the word “habit” out of habit, you’re probably going to stop yourself and think, “Wait, did I really use that word well?”

That, my friends, is the point. What we say matters. But, it’s not just the words we use or the tones and attitudes we present when we use those words. It’s also the way other people understand our words.

That’s a heavy burden to bear, I know. If I talk about doing something habitually, and another person interprets that to mean that I can do it without truly thinking or processing, they may feel that they will never be able to succeed in that area. But, if they think of it as a behavior I’ve acquired or that is typical for me, they may realize that even a habit takes work and effort. Even after being accustomed to doing it. Together, I and the person to whom I am speaking are jointly responsible for making sure that we understand one another and are communicating with clarity.

And guess what? We’ll never, ever, ever do that perfectly!

Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to be a downer there. But it’s the truth. So, if it is the truth, what do we do about it?

I could give you a whole list of good communication techniques, but you can search for those yourself just as easily. I could talk to you about building healthy relationships, but trying to accomplish that in a few hundred words would make something that is exceedingly important feel very trite.

Instead, I’ll share with you what’s on my bedroom wall. It’s a beautiful calligraphy print of Psalm 19:14, which reads, “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, Lord, my rock and my Redeemer.” (CSB)

Does that answer all our questions? Give us solid vocabulary to rely on that everyone will understand with complete clarity? Ensure that we never say a misunderstood thing ever again?

Nope. Not by a long shot.

But it does rightly direct our intentions. If my goal is to communicate flawlessly with you, I will fail. I’ll pick a wrong word or unwittingly say something that is a trigger for you. But, our amazing God, our Father, Lord, Rock, and Redeemer, knows us all. He knows our hearts. He knows not just what we say, but what we mean. And we can trust Him to bridge the gaps between us.

But only if our goal is first and foremost to be acceptable to Him.

That’s how I want to think, speak, write, and communicate. In a way that makes Him smile. That deepens my relationship with Him. That then, in turn, helps you see His love and pleasure as well. I forget that goal sometimes, which is why I have the verse on my wall, right by the door. I see it every day. I am reminded every day. Even so, I still miss it so often. But I want to keep growing. Keep learning. Keep practicing.

And maybe, before too much longer, that kind of communication will truly be my habit.

1. Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, s.v. “habit,” accessed August 17, 2026, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/habit.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

What is Finished?

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

When I first sat down to start fleshing out this thought, I had just put three dish cloths in the laundry.

It seems like such an odd statement. What’s the big deal about washing three dish cloths?

Well, let me tell you a bit of a story.

I love handmade dish cloths. There’s something about washing dishes with that particular texture that just works. Some do work better than others, to be sure. The cutesy knit cloths with cows and dogs and dragons and dinos that I made when the kids were younger work fine, but the best ones are those with stronger texture variations that allow for soft but effective scrubbing.

Those cutesy cloths eventually wore out, and I realized it was time — probably well past time — to make a new batch of cloths. It took me a while, but I finally got around to starting the project. I had a couple of partially used cones of cotton yarn that didn’t have enough left for integrating into other projects, so that made yarn choice easy. The next step was to choose patterns. It didn’t matter if they were knit or crochet. I simply wanted them to be cute, but also functional, while being quick and easy to make. I found about a dozen patterns to try and dove in. Several times I’d start a pattern, get about a fourth of the way in, then decide that I didn’t like the feel or look or size or that the pattern would require too much attention. But I kept trying, knowing I’d get it figured it out.

I finally settled on two. My favorite, a texturally delightful knit basket weave was quick, simple, and could easily be adjusted to a variety of sizes. The other pattern was also quick, easy (unless I tried to alternate colors like I did with the first attempt at that pattern; beautiful results, but slow work!), and perfect for wiping counters.

Colors settled. Patterns chosen. Finally, I was ready to start creating my stash.

But, here’s the catch. The whole planning process took several weeks. And, I’m not super quick at knitting or crocheting. And, the first basket weave cloth I made I had to undo because I’d over-adjusted the size and made it too small. You see where this is going. This “quick and easy” plan to replace my dish cloths was turning out to be quite slow.

Which lead to another issue. I’m a finisher. So, of course, I wanted to finish all of the dish cloths before running them through the wash and integrating them into our daily usage. Very practical, right? Plan well, implement the plan, get it completed, then apply it. That’s how life should be.

Except, it’s not.

Life isn’t that clean. Or tidy. Or smooth. Life doesn’t let us focus on a thing, whatever that thing may be, and bring it to completion before throwing us a curve ball or introducing a new thing that needs to be tackled. Sometimes we have to live with small steps, rejoicing in the segments instead of waiting for the big finish.

Of course, that leaves a new challenge. What really does it mean to be finished? Where is that victory line we’re aiming toward? How many boxes really have to be checked off to indicate that we’ve made it? Are we finished when we’ve reached our original goal? Are we finished when we’re functional?

Or are we ever truly finished?

That’s a hard question for me in the grand scheme of life. It’s a rather philosophical one, and processing philosophical questions is not a big strength of mine. I prefer to tackle questions I can truly answer. And projects I can truly finish.

But since life isn’t that clean, I’m trying to use my little projects to practice tackling the big philosophical question, starting with running three completed dish cloths through the laundry so we could go ahead and start replacing the worn out ones. I eventually finished three more. In the meantime, I started other projects, some small and some large. Some would be finished quickly. On another, I set a one-year goal, knowing it would take me a while.

The finish line that I so dearly love may be hard to define. But that should never stop me from starting. Or from implementing along the way.

So, today, I’ll celebrate those three dish cloths. I’ll celebrate that I did actually finish that project. And I’ll keep pushing through life trusting that the One who gave me this desire to finish will guide me for His glory.

That’s answer enough for today.

Posted in Meditations & Meanderings, Thoughts from Life, Uncategorized

Just Do Something?

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

When you’re stuck, unable to figure out what to do next, sometimes the best thing to do is…something. Anything. Just move. Break out of the lethargy. Just do something. There’s something to this when we lack a solid vision of what’s next or are struggling with creativity that seems to have gone AWOL. The act of just taking action, no matter what that action may be, can kick us into gear.

Kind of like that 5-speed that won’t start no matter how many times you turn the key. But, give it a good push or start it rolling down a hill, then pop it into gear, and it will fire right up as pretty as you please! It’s quite the fun trick!

If we look around, though, I think we might find ourselves surrounded by people who have chosen to do something instead of doing the one thing they are supposed to be doing. These aren’t the people who are stuck. Uncertain. Struggling to figure things out. These are the people who know what it is they are supposed to be doing but are hesitant to jump out and do it.

On the one hand, it’s completely understandable. Often the things we know we should do are more than a little frightening. They represent change. We can’t see the big picture. Sometimes we can’t see past the very first step, and we’re afraid of falling flat on our face with the second one.

So, we decide to test the waters. We do this little thing over here to try to build up our courage. We do that little thing over there to try to nudge our creativity. We’re doing something, right? We’re trying to get ourselves motivated to do what we know we’ve been called to do. That’s good, right? Maybe even enough for now?

I have news for you. For myself. For all of us. It’s not enough.

Why? Because it’s not what God has called us to do.

Just doing something is a step to keep us active when we don’t know what to do next. But the honest truth is that most of us know what we’re supposed to do next. We might not have a grand vision or a five-year plan. We might not know how this step of obedience is going to play out in the grand scheme of things. But we know what we’re supposed to do next.

Write that note.
Have that conversation.
Apply for that job.
Go to that doctor’s appointment.
Volunteer for that event.
Audition for that role.
Make that gift.
Take that lesson.
Put your house on the market.
Plan that move.

Write and publish that blog post. (Getting personal now.)

I could go on and on and on. For some of us it’s a big thing. We know that the next step is a life-changing one that will leave us on the brink of the unknown. For others of us, the next step seems very tiny. It won’t take us more than a few minutes. Yet we put it off because we know the consequences could be bigger than we can possibly foresee.

But, we’re not obedient.

Today, if you are in a spot where you really and truly don’t know what you’re supposed to do next, then I encourage you to just do something. But I imagine that the vast majority of us are in a very different place. We know a next step. We’re just avoiding it.

If that’s you, don’t just do something. Do that thing.

Step out. Be obedient. Take the plunge. And know that the God who gave you the instruction already has every step covered. He’s got you, even if you can’t see Him. He’ll keep you going. He’ll show you the next thing in His perfect timing. As long as you will go ahead and take that step today.

Let’s do our things together today, shall we?

Posted in Faith Nuggets, Thoughts from Life

Choosing Our Light

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Today I am struggling with a lot of angsty thoughts that I can’t really communicate well…or kindly, to be honest. But, this old post fits and feels relevant. So, instead of a brand new angsty post, I’ll share these old thoughts and then add a few new ones at the end.

This morning, we awoke to a bright, cloudless sky. Our home has many windows that let in the bright sunshine on clear days, so on days like this we frequently don’t even have to turn on interior lights. The sunshine streaming in through the windows might not be as bright and strong as our electric lights, but it’s sufficient.

This afternoon, clouds are moving in ahead of anticipated weekend storms. As the clouds build, we alternate between bright sunshine and darkening shade. In some rooms, we’re turning on lights to counteract the game of peekaboo the sun seems to be playing.

When a storm system actually arrives, though, I expect a very different story. The front will solidly entrench itself, and heavy storm clouds will block the sun. In our home, we’ll have to use the lights that do not receive much use during a sunny stretch.

For so long, Christians in the United States have lived much as we do in our home. We’ve been content with the light of the cloudless or partly cloudy skies of morality, rarely seeing the need to turn on our lights of Christ-likeness. Why? Because we mistakenly equate Christianity and morality or being good Americans, thinking that light is enough.

Clouds of trouble do cover the sun briefly, and we turn on our lights for a while, taking a stand for godliness. But, because the storm has not yet arrived in all of its ferocity, we inevitably turn off our lights of godliness when the sun of morality emerges from the clouds again.

Recently, a political decision was made that has once again blocked the light of morality. While many Christians are in full-fledged panic mode over this decision, the reality is that this is just another bout of cloudiness – maybe even a thunder-shower – ahead of the real storm front.

But, what if we as Christians responded to this shower differently? What if we chose to turn on our lights of godliness once and for all? What if we decided to stop relying on the intermittent light of so-called morality and made a move to operate instead in the consistent and full light of godliness?

It’s a frightening thought for American Christians, to be honest. Such an action would mark us even more profoundly than morality ever did, perhaps even expediting our progress toward persecution.

But, it would also establish us firmly in a light that can never be dimmed.

The light of morality, grounded in a false belief that man is inherently good, was destined to be extinguished. Scripture reminds us that all goodness is bound up in Christ – man is sinful, not good. Without Christ, even the most moral of Americans will eventually bow to the lie of equality.

Do I like the decision that was made? No. Has it robbed reason to rejoice? Again, no. On the contrary, it has actually given me reason to rejoice. Why? Because now a few more Christians will choose to move from the fading light of morality into the never-failing light of godliness. They will grow closer to Christ through it. They will become stronger witnesses for Him because of it. And more of the lost and dying in this world will come to saving faith as a result of it.

And that, my friends, is why I rejoice, even in the face of those inevitable storm clouds.

This morning as I reread this old post, I’m struggling with the fact that the lost and dying in our country currently feel utterly hated by Christians. And it’s all because so many American Christians are claiming a political light instead of the Light of Christ.

I do not remember what political decision was handed down at the time I initially wrote this post. I could easily look it up based on the original publication date, but the fact of the decision would distract from the truth here: many who claim the Name of Christ are once again basking in a false light, and in the process so many who desperately need the love of Christ instead want nothing to do with Him. Because of us. Oh, how that breaks my heart! Utterly and completely!

Friends, I’m not saying we can’t have political preferences. But when will we realize that those preferences have to take a back seat to our allegiance to Christ? When will we start living in the true Light and share that Light and His love with those in desperate need of it? When will we realize that circumstances will never give us true light? That our preferences are a false light? Only Jesus is Light. ONLY JESUS. Let’s let Him and His love be our only light!

Posted in Faith Nuggets, Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Others

My Certainty

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Oh my word, how I needed this reminder this morning! Once again, I am thankful for the record of what God has taught me in the past so I can continue to move forward in growth. And finding certainty in Him is definitely an area where He keeps pushing me to dive deeper and grow more.

Uncertainty. Don’t you just love it. Never knowing what’s around the next bend? Not being able to plan and anticipate?

Okay, if that excited you and made you say, “Yes! I do love it!” then I will go ahead and admit something right now – I don’t understand you. I may still love you, and I will probably try to draw on your strength and excitement when I’m overwhelmed by uncertainty. But I just cannot understand you.

No, I do not always have to have all of the answers, nor do I insist on a crystal clear path at all times. Admittedly, surprises are fun, and the unexpected keeps life interesting and exciting. But that’s not the same as uncertainty.

Uncertainty is knowing that there is something around the corner – and possibly even knowing what it is – but not really being able to predict how it will impact life. If I know that something uncertain is ahead of me, I want to at least have the chance to do something productive to prepare for the uncertainty.

It’s like knowing that tornado season is coming around. I’m an Arkansan, which means tornado season is a given. I do not know when storms will come, but I know they will. And although I cannot guarantee my family’s safety during a tornado, I can do practical, productive things to prepare. I can make sure that we all know where to go to take cover quickly and smoothly. I can make sure necessities are easy to grab. I can prepare.

The problem comes when I see uncertainty on the horizon and cannot do a thing about it. I can’t prepare. I can’t plan. I can only wait. Wait in the uncertainty.

That’s exactly where the Lord puts me from time to time. Why? Because I’m finding my certainty in activity. In preparation. In doing something. What does He want instead?

He wants to be my certainty.

Oswald Chambers says it quite well in My Utmost from His Highest.

Certainty is the mark of a common-sense life; gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways…

Ouch. I tried to argue with that rationale this week. I hoped that I could look at 1 John 3:2, the focal verse for the devotional, and determine that Chambers was out of context with his deductions. But no, he wasn’t. And I was stuck.

I had been living a common-sense life. The Lord was – and is – calling me to a life filled with Him. A life in which my only certainty is Himself. Not circumstances. Not preparation. Not clear answers or firm direction.

Just Himself.

Where is your certainty today? If it is anywhere but in Christ Himself, He will push you into circumstances that challenge your common-sense life. And it hurts. But it’s worth it.

Will you join me in “gracious uncertainty”? Together, let’s make our Lord and Savior our only certainty.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

The Thoughts that Don’t Make It

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I’m sitting here this morning perusing my notes, in-progress thoughts, and rough drafts, wondering if I should start from scratch with today’s post or prepare something I’ve already started.

Some of the thoughts have been here a while. Months. Others are recent, but I need them to gel a bit to make sure that I’m saying things clearly. Sometimes I can sit down and go from idea to publication in an hour or so with no problem. But most of the things I’m skimming through this morning are thoughts that, for whatever reason, don’t fit into that mold. They were jotted down as incomplete ideas that needed to be pondered or fleshed out, but just haven’t made it to completion yet.

Some were thoughts hammered out in emotional times. Whether it was negative or positive emotions, my emotional writing frequently doesn’t make sense until I can pull back and separate the thoughts from the emotions. Sometimes, though, that makes it impossible to ever complete the thoughts, because emotional memories are strong.

Some will eventually find their way to publication. Others never will. I’ll never get them to work. And that’s okay. Because it’s not really the completion that matters in every situation. Sometimes thoughts are there to give birth to learning in other areas. They lead to other ideas and different growth — to things that I can share later. But it’s important to jot the thoughts down, because otherwise I’ll forget them. After all, if it’s not written down, it usually doesn’t happen! At least, that’s the way it is for my extremely visual brain.

The point is, I struggle sometimes to know which thoughts should be pushed through and which ones should never be publicly read. It’s important for us to learn to be vulnerable. To be real. But, there is wisdom in vulnerability. There must still be boundaries and guidelines for when and how to share parts of ourselves. And there are some things that will never be published on a public blog, even if the blog is rarely seen by more than a handful of people.

The key is to recognize which thoughts fit into which category. But there’s also the need to recognize my own mental acuity each time I try to make such a decision. Am I in touch with wisdom enough to know whether or not something needs to be published? Am I deciding from a place of insecurity or discernment? Some days I have more clarity than others. Am I willing to admit when I’m experiencing a day that lacks clarity?

Today is a day when I don’t really have much to say. But, it’s been a bit of a weird week, and my routine is thrown off. So, as I stumble through trying to make the most of each day, I recognize that it’s not a great day to process unpublished rough drafts or incomplete thoughts to see if they are worth publishing. It may not be a day conducive to fresh writing, but it’s also not really a great day for going back through old posts to see if they are worth republishing. It is instead a day to just be honest about where I am and move on.

I’m encouraged, though, because even on a day like today I’m trying. I’m not sharing a lovely life lesson or a glimpse from Scripture. But I’m still writing. I’m still doing. And I am continuing to build on habits and rhythms that will make it easier next time to either review well, write well, or just do like today and keep up the practice.

Not every thought makes it. But every thought has a purpose, even if it’s just to grow me toward the next thought. I’ll take it.

Posted in Thoughts from Books, Thoughts from Life

The Place of Joy

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Do you have a happy place?

This question was mulling around in my mind one morning as I read a chapter in Longing for Joy by Alastair Stern. The first few chapters have had the potential to be a wee bit discouraging as the author explains that joy cannot be intentionally chosen, found, or created. It is instead rather elusive and seems somewhat haphazard.

What is the good of longing for it if it may or may not ever come to us?

And yet, oddly enough, the very nature of the discussion gives such hope. On that particular morning, I was reading chapter five, aptly entitled “Longing.” Woven throughout the chapter were descriptions of moments that seemed so full of joy and yet were also full of longing. Of an awareness that, no matter how amazing the moment, the joy was fleeting. Or incomplete. Or somehow lacking.

It all clicked in my heart and mind with an understanding, a greater appreciation for the moments and places of joy I’ve experienced throughout my life, and a realization that the longing — the incompletion even in those amazing moments — was all part of the amazing nature of joy. The reminder that there is still coming a time when our joy will be complete.

I’ve never longed more for the presence of God than in those places of incomplete joy, and it’s an amazing feeling.

In the early chapters of Longing for Joy, the author hints at the idea that, although we cannot choose joy on our own, we can cultivate a life that will welcome joy when it comes. That idea, combined with the awakened understanding of the longing that beautifully rests hand in hand with joy, made me realize something: my favorite spaces are the spaces where I can truly process joy. My happy places.

Oddly enough, they are the places where joy helps me process everything else, too.

I’m a nomad, so there aren’t many specific physical places where I feel at home. Home is life with Doug. Home is being able to continue to share life with my children, even as they transition into adulthood. But, there are still physical and geographic places that give me nourishment.

One of the earliest favorites place I can remember was a low, backless, stone bench on a hillside. The bench sat in the back yard of the house next to ours, one used by our mission group as a guest house or meeting place. Since it was typically unoccupied, it was easy for me to slip over there and enjoy the quiet. I could look out over the valley below us and up to the next hill where the ruins of an old crusader castle nestled at the top. That hill and the one next to it gave way to another valley in-between. Sometimes, when the air was clear, I could see more hills and valleys through the gap. In the haze of summer, I could barely see past those two hills. Still other times, fog rolled through the gap and across the valleys, looking like a cozy blanket.

It was my happy place growing up, and whenever I think of it I can’t help but smile. But, this morning I had an odd realization about my happy place: I wasn’t usually happy when I went there. I most often went when I was hurt or angry. When I just wanted to be alone or when I felt as if the weight of loneliness would suffocate me. When I was longing for life to slow down or aching for time to move more quickly. It was a place of tears. Of grieving. Of venting. Of longing and aching. Only very rarely did I go when I was happy and wanted to express joy. Usually I went because I longed for joy to find and rescue me.

And yet, although I know I had places of joy before then, that is the place my mind always returns to when I think of a foundational place of joy.

How can that be possible?

It took that chapter on longing to help me realize that joy often comes when we allow ourselves to process all of our emotions. There was nothing awesome about that stone bench. It was, in fact, quite uncomfortable to sit there for any length of time. And though I did love the view, it wasn’t perfect or extraordinary. Even so, that bench and the view it overlooked represented the space where I went to let everything go. Where I truly stopped to analyze my thoughts and feelings. Where I was most likely to be honest with myself.

It was the place where joy most easily found me during my growing up years, either helping me process my crazy thoughts and emotions or embracing me after I released them.

I haven’t been back to that spot in nearly 30 years, but I’ve found others like it. And now I realize what it is that makes those spaces special. Now I see that they are spaces that give me permission to stop and process. To take all of my thoughts and feelings, both good and bad, and let them soar in openness and honesty. To really see myself and determine what’s good and what’s not so good. To let myself feel. To let myself be. And to make myself hear what the Spirit is speaking into my emotions and circumstances.

In the middle of it all, I get a glimpse of what joy looks like. I see what I’m truly longing for. I understand what it is I’m seeking. And I can equip myself to go back and live a life that cultivates space for joy and gives permission to the longing for it.

There’s no magic formula for a place that produces joy. But there is a space for me that makes joy more tangible, even when all I take in with me is sorrow and ache. It’s a beautiful place to be.

Note: The image is a painting my mom did for me, showing the crusader castle mentioned above. It hangs above the mantle in our living room, reminding me of my favorite view from my growing up years, seen both from that stone bench and from my bedroom window.