Category: Thoughts from Life

Posted in Faith Nuggets, Psalm 23, Thoughts, Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Scripture

Relational Rest

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

This is another throwback article, one I originally wrote to kick off a four-part article series for a local publication. But I vividly remember processing through the thoughts that resulted in these articles. They shaped some of my earliest, foundational ideas about Sabbath rest. And I find them all to be a good reminder to revisit now and then, especially in busy seasons where rest has to be so much more intentional.

Life is tiring. Have you noticed? We hit the ground running and eventually forget what it means to stop. To rest.

I am convicted each time I see how seriously Scripture handles the Sabbath. This day of rest was instituted long before the law came into being. In fact, rest existed before sin corrupted the world and laid the burdens of exhaustion upon our backs. Rest is critical, and we must allow God to teach us how to rest.

God has been opening my mind to aspects of rest I have never before considered. Recently, He showed me that rest is relational. A quick glance at the Old Testament instructions about communal Sabbath practices shows how important relationship was in times of rest for the Israelites. But I needed a little extra help from the Holy Spirit to help me learn how to apply it to my life in today’s less communal society.

When I think of rest, I think of curling up all by myself with a good book and no distractions. You see, I am an introvert. I love being with people, but social interaction typically drains my energy. I need to recharge after I spend time with people. How in the world can rest be relational?

Fortunately, God is a patient teacher. He is willing to prove His truths to me, even when I am skeptical.

I remember an experience that hammered this truth home to me. I was heading out to a retreat, scheduled to spend three days with a group of amazing women, but all I could think of was the energy that would be required of me through the weekend. I went into it tired. How long would it take me to recover once it was all said and done?

I never expected to come away from that trip energized. Those women poured into me even as I poured into them. We respected one another’s needs, helped each other recharge, and lived out the beauty of Hebrews 3:13. We pooled our talents and passions, seeing productivity flow even out of our times of fun and relaxation. We rested together in ways we never could have done individually.

For the first time in my life, I saw that even introverts cannot experience the fullness of rest without support and encouragement from fellow believers. Rest really is relational.

Scripture supports this in a profound manner. Consider Psalm 23. This beloved passage wraps me in peace every time I read it. I have always thought of it as a personal passage, but recently I was confronted with a startling truth: David was a shepherd. He knew sheep. And, he knew that sheep do not do well at all on their own. They rest when they are surrounded by the safety of their flock and the protection of their shepherd.

We are God’s sheep. We need to draw upon the presence of one another, encouraging each other daily that we may truly find rest.

This article was originally written for Arkansas Baptist News.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

Permission

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I love giving permission to other people. Permission to go light on themselves. Permission to relax. Permission to do fun things just for the fun of it. Permission to not be busy all the time. Permission to do things that I’ve wanted to do at times but didn’t feel like I had permission to do.

Sometimes, especially during my growing up years, that permission was withheld by others and their expectations of me, whether they intended to withhold it or not. As an adult, there have been times when I felt the lack of permission from others, but it’s more frequently been a burden I’ve placed on myself.

I don’t give myself the same permissions I give to others.

It hit me hard this morning as I processed what the day needed to look like compared to how tired I felt. Somewhere in the middle of that whole stack was my sense of writing responsibility.

Writing is a joy and a need for me, but it does also sometimes weigh on me as a responsibility. When I don’t write regularly, those muscles weaken and writing becomes harder. And I haven’t written a whole lot over the last few weeks because of a busy month and a need to shuffle other things into my writing time. So, this morning, it felt more like a responsibility than a joy. More like a demand than a need or desire.

As I weighed the options of the day and tried to figure out where to fit writing in, knowing it would be even harder later in the week, the first thought that came to my mind was Give yourself permission.

It stopped me in my tracks, both physically and mentally.

Permission? Permission to what? Not write? That’s what I’ve been doing a lot of lately, and it has to stop somewhere. So, what permission do I need to give myself?

As I pondered, I realized, first of all, that I had an idea to write about. So I definitely would be writing today! It’s critical to take advantage of those ideas! But, secondly, I realized that some of my fear about skipping writing revolves around a balance of permission. I don’t feel that I can give myself permission to relax on my responsibilities because I will resist jumping back on them.

So, that’s the first permission. The permission to go easy on myself now and be firm with myself later.

I also realized that I most commonly give myself permission to skip the most life-giving responsibilities. Probably because I feel a little guilty indulging in them anyway when they aren’t immediately practical. So, the second permission is allowing myself to set aside other things now and then. Even the practical.

That’s what I’m doing today. I’d intended to skip writing and do tomorrow’s chores today since we’ll be otherwise occupied most of tomorrow. Instead, I’m giving myself permission to write what’s in my head. Then I’ll give myself permission to reconsider the chore list for the week and determine what can slide. I’ll give myself permission to be firm with myself later in the week if needed.

Permission is like that. It’s nourishing, whether it is giving us a bit of leeway or holding us accountable. It teaches us, grows us, heals us, frees us, sets our boundaries, and paves the way for a healthy life.

Permission will look different for you than it will look for me. It will also look different coming from those around us than it will coming from ourselves. And, there will be times when we will need to give ourselves permission specifically because others withhold it when they shouldn’t. Or we’ll need to see the need to grant our permission to those around us.

My prayer today is that I will grow in my understanding of responsible, life-giving permission. That I will know when to give it to myself and to others.

And for the moment, I will write.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

I Love Your Home

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I needed this reminder right now. Some of the clutter of our home had gotten out of control (we’re working to tame it again), and in the process I definitely lost my love for home.

Most of you are probably looking at the title and thinking, “But you’ve never seen my home!” And you’re right. I haven’t. But I love it. Why? Because it’s part of you. It reflects your personality and passions in so many ways.

I used to be ashamed of my home. I’m not a great housekeeper, and I can’t really decorate. If you walk into my home at any given time, there will be clutter. Despite my love for organization, my house will be unorganized. You might arrive on a day when the bathrooms have been cleaned recently or the trash cans emptied. But, it might also have been a few days since either was done. And the fact that housework gets done at all is a testimony to the willingness of my children to participate in household chores.

So, for those who love a spic and span, well-organized house, I’ll give you fair warning: You won’t find that within these doors. But, you’re welcome anyway, because it would give you a chance to get to know my family a little better as you walk in and see the combination of our personalities poured into our living space.

That’s what I’d find in your home, too, isn’t it? Personality reflected in your space? And that, my friend, is why I love your home, even if I’ve never seen it.

I remember one year when my family joined hundreds of other Arkansans for a one-day mission trip to southwest Arkansas. My daughters and I, joined by three others, spent four and a half hours prayer walking one portion of the town. The thing that stood out to me the most was how closed up all of the houses were. Closed windows. No screen doors – just closed, solid doors. Closed garages, even when the occupants were home. Back yards closed off by privacy fences, such that even if the residents were playing together in the back yard, it was impossible to see.

It brought me face to face with the reality of our culture today: so many of us rarely see the inside of one another’s homes. We rarely get the chance to know one another on that level. And I am as guilty of that as the next person. I live much of my life behind closed doors as well. Although I’m always happy to welcome others into my home, I don’t go out of my way to make sure they know my home is open.

Because our homes reflect our personalities, our closed homes reflect our tendency to close ourselves off from one another. We hole up inside ourselves and hide what we consider to be a mess. We don’t want others to see our clutter – whether it be physical, emotional, or spiritual. We want to be particular about what we share.

Honestly, as an introvert, it makes me a bit nervous to think of living with an open home, because I need my protected space. And, there will be times when I must close my doors and focus on just my family. But, I want to be more open. I want to welcome others in more readily. I want others to see the real me.

And I want you to know that I love the real you. Yes, I really do love your home!

Posted in Thoughts from Life

Silence

Posted on 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!

Posted in Thoughts from Life, What I Do

Editing

Posted on 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.

Posted in Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Scripture

The Place of Impact

Posted on 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.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

Obedience

Posted on 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.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

Rain

Posted on 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.

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

Purpose Enough

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I’ve done it all my life. When I hit a bump in the road, a struggle, a discouragement, or a time of suffering, I ask why. I think knowing the reason will help me cope. Make it worthwhile. Help me truly reach for joy in the suffering.

More than that, doesn’t seeing a reason help with my testimony to others? “Look what God is doing!” I could say — if I only knew what God actually was doing.

But what happens when a reason is not given?

I’ve been there. Instead of, “Look what God is doing,” I have to fall back on, “God is in control and He does love me, even if I don’t feel it right now.” That’s harder. So much harder. Especially when the pain goes on and on and on or when I hear the questions of why God would allow suffering in the first place.

I confess, the lack of being able to see God’s hand — an inability to see how He could be glorified through the situation or how the question of pain and suffering even fits with a glorious, loving God — has distracted me from resting in Him many times. I believed I needed evidence. But so many times, He has withheld that evidence from me.

Instead, He’s given Himself, which is actually the exact provision I truly need to process through the struggle.

Therefore, since Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves also with the same understanding—because the one who suffers in the flesh is finished with sin—in order to live the remaining time in the flesh no longer for human desires, but for God’s will. 1 Peter 4:1-2 (CSB)

What if, contrary to what we often try to argue, God doesn’t send suffering so that He can turn around and glorify Himself through some grand, magnificent miracle? What if, instead, He takes the suffering that is already here, that this world is utterly steeped in, and uses it? Redeems it by driving us to cease from our sin? To continue to grow in righteousness? To become more like Him?

When we endure suffering faithfully, when we truly push through those times of pain and heartache and choose to trust God even in the middle of them, those fleshly lusts lose their allure, don’t they? We realize what is truly precious, and we cling to it, turning away from the sin that once ensnared us.

Yet how many times do we forget that truth when we are standing in the midst of a struggle? We ask for purpose for our suffering, a lesser gift, instead of seeking His righteousness to grow in us.

I would love to be free from suffering. I would love to completely remove the suffering from everyone around me. It’s bad. It’s not what God intended, and I imagine it grieves His heart. I hunger for the day when He fulfills His promise to make all things new. The day when suffering will be completely gone.

In the meantime, though, I hunger for righteousness. Even while I remain in this world of suffering, I want to become the type of person who thinks with joy of the day when both will be done away with and we will live in perfection with Christ our Savior. With God our Almighty Father and Creator.

No matter what the suffering, may that truth return to my memory and be purpose enough for me.

The Christian Standard Bible. Copyright © 2017 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. Christian Standard Bible®, and CSB® are federally registered trademarks of Holman Bible Publishers, all rights reserved.
Posted in Thoughts from Life

Words

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Have you ever found yourself boldly stating something as fact, only to discover shortly after that you weren’t quite right?

Or have you ever processed back on a concept you taught or shared or lived out with confidence that you have since learned to view in greater depth…and therefore differently?

Today I’m struggling, not because I don’t have any ideas to write about, but because I’m increasingly aware of the weight of sharing those words.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not under any illusions that I’m this huge influencer or anything. It’s not that. But, the truth is that words or ideas shared with even one other person can have an impact. Can cause a ripple. Can either nourish or infect.

I’m not an expert in much of anything. I have experience in many things, but I’m living proof of the idea that the more you learn, the more you discover there is to learn. Things I used to proclaim boldly are now a little less solid in my own mind. It’s not because I’ve changed my mind or become wishy-washy. It’s because I’ve learned more and discovered that nothing is as clear-cut and simple as I once thought it was.

I love writing about, talking about, and teaching from Scripture. But I know that there have been times I’ve taught poorly. I’ve spoken wrongly. I’ve written with an overly simplistic or overly superior approach. I want to instead share from a place of grace. A place of learning. A place of recognizing that I don’t know it all and still have much to learn.

I’ve either started or hashed out several ideas in my writing time in recent weeks. I have a stash of ideas, half-written posts, or rough drafts from other writing days. Sometimes I’m afraid to post them. Afraid that I’m wrong or that I’ll make someone mad or that I’ll push buttons that don’t need to be pushed.

Other times, I sense that the thoughts are incomplete. That I haven’t really brought them to fruition and haven’t made a solid point. Still other times, I have a distinct sense that my timing is bad and that I just need to wait before clicking publish.

The wisest people I know are those who are careful about what they say. This doesn’t mean they are always right or that they never make mistakes. But they are careful. And they own their mistakes.

That’s how I want to be. Wise.

So, I prayerfully continue to sit on some of my words. To wait before I share. Not just on the blog, but on social media and hopefully in person as well. (That one’s harder, because in a real conversation I speak so much more quickly than I speak! Ouch!)

Because above all, I want my words to point others to Christ. I want them to be full of truth, honorable, kind, and humble. That is my prayer.