Category: Thoughts from Others

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 Advent, Thoughts from Others

Advent Week 3: Frankincense for Remembering

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Our Advent focus at church continues with the three gifts of Christmas, this week focusing on frankincense. The primary question brought up in this week’s sermon (which you can find here) connected the idea of worship and incense: what “smells” like worship in our lives?

Smell is a very powerful trigger. In an instant, a single odor can take us from joy to anxiety, from depression to comfort. Smell incites physical responses such as allergies or migraines. It triggers emotions. It prompts memories. It activates cravings. It provides warnings and feeds anticipation.

Some people are more sensitive to scents than others. I fall in the “more” category. Things like perfumes or tobacco of any sort can quickly trigger an allergic response or migraine — or both — for me. On the other hand, scents that don’t cause a negative impact can fill me with excitement!

I don’t know that I ever tire of the smell of cinnamon. It’s comfort and health and pleasure and joy and so many other emotions I can’t even name.
The smell of rain after a dry spell is a lifelong treasure.
The smell of snow always makes me smile.
The smell of meat cooking, of a wood fire, of leather, of a new book…

I could go on and on.

As I think about the power of smells and ponder the question of what “smells” like worship in my life, I realize that the things I do — and even my very presence — can have as strong of an impact on others as certain smells.

I’ve always wanted to have a positive impact on people, to be considered a positive presence in their lives. But, I’ve always wrestled with the feeling that I’m the opposite. Growing up, I believed that others didn’t truly like being around me. They just felt obligated for one reason or another (I could always come up with a reason), and if they were left to their preferences, I wouldn’t be wanted. While I do know that was true in some situations, much of that revolved around my own insecurities, and those insecurities have persisted into adulthood.

But as I ponder this question more, I realize that the anxiety I felt about other people stemmed from the fact that my approach was wrong. I am not here to have a positive impact on people. I’m here for one reason and one reason only: to point others to Jesus. That’s it.

The “smell” of my presence in this world should be the “smell” of Jesus.

I know for a fact that I don’t do that well. I’m a perfectionist, and so my “smell” is often that of making sure all of the details line up. My “smell” too frequently makes others feel that they don’t measure up, despite the fact that I’m the one who feels inadequate in most situations. My “smell” is caught up in the here and now. In the details. In things being “right.”

While in some situations the details are important, they are always secondary to Jesus. Always. And that’s what my life should reflect.

I should radiate worship. The love of Christ. The joy of His presence. The comfort of His grace. The power of His forgiveness. The reality of His pure judgment (and never mine!) that is so entwined with everlasting, unfailing love that the two can never be separated. Those things are the smell of worship. The smell of Christ Jesus.

To be honest, I’m not overly enamored by the smell of frankincense. It’s not bad. It doesn’t cause a migraine or trigger my allergies or incite negative emotions. It’s just not a favorite smell. But, I love the idea that, in Old Testament texts, it’s shown as the smell of worship. It was included in almost every worship-based sacrifice, as well as being part of the unique incense blend laid out by God for use in the tabernacle. When the Israelites smelled frankincense, they would think of worship. Every time.

That’s how I want to live my life, as a person who makes others think of worship. Of the presence of Christ. But how do I get there?

By establishing my own reminders to focus on worship throughout each day. The smell of frankincense might not do the trick for me as it did for the Israelites, but there are many other things that can remind me. My job is to let those triggers do their work. To not be numb to them, as we can often become numb to certain sights and smells. To actively respond in worship whenever I encounter the reminders.

I can only draw others to Christ when I am faithfully focusing on Him myself.

Lord, make me like frankincense!

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

Sacrificial Rest

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

 Such a timely reminder, as we are, once again, deep into the holiday season and all of the interactions it can bring!

The holiday season is upon us! As an introverted homebody, sometimes the busyness of this season throws me for a loop. I do love it. I love the decorations and the celebrations. I enjoy the parties and the events, even if I sometimes have to pry myself out of the warm house to attend them.

But I also need rest. And I am not quite sure I like the next lesson God has been teaching me about rest. You see, in addition to learning that rest is relational and expected, I am also learning that rest is sacrificial.

I have always been pretty selfish about rest. My opinion has always been that I need it, and I need it my way or it doesn’t count. But when my husband and I had a conversation about a couple of passages of Scripture, I found my selfishness challenged.

In Acts 16:13, we see Paul heading down to the riverside in hopes of meeting people gathered there to pray. I have never though much about that action until Doug made a thought-provoking observation. He pointed out that Paul’s trip outside the city on the Sabbath was a sacrificial act. It was outside his norm. It was outside the parameters of rest he had been taught during his formative years.

Paul made a sacrifice.

So, where was he when he made this sacrifice? He was in Philippi. He was making the contacts that would eventually result in the Philippian church. The same Philippian church that brought him incredible joy, according to verses like Philippians 1:3. In fact, it could be argued from Scripture that this particular church provided Paul’s greatest source of strength and encouragement.

But it all started with a sacrifice.

One of my favorite verses is Hebrews 3:13.

But encourage each other daily, while it is still called today, so that none of you is hardened by sin’s deception. (CSB)

I have always loved the idea of encouragement among believers. But, as I look at Paul’s sacrificial investment in the Philippian church – and the return it brought – I see Hebrews 3:13 in a new light. I see that we receive our greatest encouragement, strength, and support when we are willing to sacrifice for one another, even in rest.

Now, sacrificial rest does require care because it still must be rest. It cannot become just another source of busyness. But, what would happen if we were willing to put aside our selfish conceptions of rest and determine instead to rest in fellowship with our fellow believers?

As the busy schedule presses in, I pray God will show me exactly how to rest sacrificially – and that He will allow even my rest to bear the fruit of joy and encouragement for others.

This is part three of the Rest series, originally published in Arkansas Baptist News.

Posted in Thoughts from Others, Thoughts from Prayer

Advent Week 1: Cultivating Joy

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

At our church this year, we greeted the first Sunday in Advent with the theme of joy.

Joy isn’t typically where the Advent discussions, sermons, or candle lighting begin. It’s typically a theme that comes later in the season. But, as my husband prayed about it, that’s where he felt led to start. Not only was it a fitting starting point, it also gave us the perfect opportunity to make “Joy to the World” our first congregational worship song of the season. What could be better?

The whole sermon was good, but one point really hit home for me: joy must be cultivated, and that cultivation takes time. I’ve been pondering this thought ever since hearing it and scrawling it in my sermon notes.

The concept of cultivated joy shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of us. While happiness and joy do manifest in similar ways, happiness can come in an instant — and disappear just as quickly. Joy, while its seeds are often most easily planted during times of happiness, takes more effort. More intentionality. More deliberate and focused attention.

In fact, I think, for this very reason, joy might be a bit harder to truly cultivate in times of exuberant happiness. It’s hard during times of grief, as well. I’d much rather go into a season of grief with my joy deeply rooted than to try to grow it during that time. But in seasons of great happiness, I often neglect to invest in joy. It’s so easy to just be happy.

Of course, in the in-between times, we often just work through the motions and don’t pay much attention to the cultivation needs then, either. Life is fine. We have happy moments and sad moments. We try to grow spiritually and move through the things God sets before us. But, just as in moments of happiness and seasons of grief, we don’t work to cultivate joy.

At least, I frequently don’t.

Here’s the thing I’ve learned about myself. When I’m not actively cultivating joy, I still cultivate other things. Things that don’t take as much effort. That feel like less work. That aren’t as exhausting.

But the payoff is atrocious. Because those things that are easier to cultivate are devastating for my soul when they are not paired with joy.

Don’t get me wrong, they are not bad in and of themselves. There are negative things that are easy to cultivate as well, but those are obvious. We should know not to cultivate selfishness and bitterness and anger and hate.

But there are other things that seem good and healthy. It’s not bad to cultivate a sense of self and the care that goes along with it. It’s not bad to cultivate the empathy that is such an inherent part of my personality. (I know that can be harder for those who do not have an empathetic personality, so this is definitely very personal to me.) Cultivating skills and habits and hobbies are all very good.

But, when I cultivate those things without incorporating joy — or any of the fruit of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, per Galatians 5:22-23) — they can all foster the selfishness that I do not ever want to intentionally cultivate.

Yes, devastating is definitely an appropriate word.

I’m far too guilty of that, though. And that truth is what hit me yesterday during the sermon. Over the past few years, I have attempted to heal from hurts, grow in Christ, and notice the needs of others. I’ve sought to regain a sense of peace and calm even in seasons of loneliness and aches.

But somewhere along the way, I think I stopped actively cultivating joy. I tried to ride on what already existed without nourishing it so it would continue. Eventually, it began to dry up. The sad thing is that I didn’t really notice. I was so caught up in those moments where there was a lack of happiness that I didn’t pay attention to the fact that my joy — the joy of belonging to my precious Lord and Savior and being held in His miraculous arms and guided by His perfect wisdom and protected by His amazing and vast greatness — was fading from lack of attention.

As a result, my attempts to find healing and growth and empathy have fallen flat and left me disillusioned, the bearer of a perpetual ache over the pain in this world.

Joy changes that. It doesn’t remove the hurt. But it reminds us who ultimate holds the hurt. It works the Lord’s healing in a way that nothing else can. It allows us to see lessons of growth in places we never would have thought to look.

I must get back to cultivating joy.

Where do I start? Well, my wise husband mentioned three things in his sermon (which you can watch here, if you so desire): embrace and share forgiveness, be a conduit for the love of Christ, and invest the time cultivation requires rather than expecting it to just happen.

Obviously, that’s not an exhaustive list because the cultivation of joy is an ongoing, lifelong process. But it’s a powerful starting point. I’m ready to get back to cultivating.

Posted in Thoughts from Others

Before the Experience

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

There is a wise bit of advice often given to writers: write what you know. Obviously, knowledge of a topic can come either from experience or research, and there is a very solid place for research. (My amazing hubby’s research for his dissertation, for instance, is giving him a great deal of understanding!). But when it comes to writing about walking through life, it has often seemed to me that research without experience can lead to a sense of untested idealism. Advice is tied up in a neat package, but it leaves readers in the trenches feeling like failures because their experience doesn’t fit into the neat package that a writer presents.

I’m a practical person, so I tend to get frustrated by those who write out of a sense of idealism. This is why I have long felt that I need to have experience before I write. I need to be able to say, “I’ve been there!” Experience shines a light into corners that research never reaches, granting a sense of companionship and camaraderie between the writer and the reader. Because of this conviction, I’ve put certain topics on the shelf, convinced that I really don’t have a solid leg to stand on when it comes to writing on those topics, no matter how passionate I was about them and how much I’d studied them.

Then along came the story of an author I follow, and suddenly my conviction waffled.
Don’t get me wrong — I still don’t like untried idealism. But…well, let me tell you about Shelly Miller, and you’ll understand what I mean.

I first “met” Shelly Miller through her book Rhythms of Rest: Finding the Spirit of Sabbath in a Busy World. I’d been studying Sabbath as my family attempted to begin incorporating it into the fabric of our weekly lives, and Rhythms of Rest provided another source of insight. I found Shelly to be real and accessible, her insights presented from the perspective of one who had pushed through the complications of observing Sabbath in a culture that, well, didn’t. And, to top it all off, she knew what it meant to figure out Sabbath from within the world of ministry. All in all, Rhythms of Rest was obviously a book that stemmed from experience. I could trust Shelly to tell me like it was, not spout of some idealistic nonsense that a homeschooling pastor’s wife like me could never implement.

In late 2019, I started noticing references to a new book by Shelly Miller, one that would come out in 2020. It was entitled Searching for Certainty: Finding God in the Disruptions of Life. I immediately put it on my wish list. I knew the Millers had experienced their ups and downs, their times of struggle and uncertainty. I knew, once again, that I could trust her.

That was proven a few months later when Shelly was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of cancer. Suddenly, the book she’d already written — the one that was just waiting to process through the steps necessary to get it to publication — was coming back to strengthen her. She found herself revisiting all that she had explored, studied, and researched to compile this book, almost afraid that it wouldn’t hold up to a real disruption. But it did. All that she’d studied was now proving true in her life, and she was drawing real comfort from the truths she’d written about.

Don’t get me wrong…she’d known before what it meant to find God in disruptions and uncertainties. But she was now experiencing a disruption greater than any she’d experienced before. And the truths were still holding up. God had prepared her. She thought she was sharing with her readers. Instead, she was storing up truths for what she and her family were about to face.

How powerful that the last book she’d ever get to write would also hold the very truths that she’d have to lean on to get her through her final months on earth.

So the question comes to me: Do I trust my God to be big enough to teach me truths before the experience, truths that will hold firm during the experience?

You see, there is research and study and experience. Then there is God. There’s a God who can teach us what we need before we need it. There’s a God who can build in us and prepare us and strengthen us. There’s training and growth that comes from experience, and then there’s training and growth that comes simply because we’re daily immersing ourselves in the Word, allowing ourselves to be taught by the Spirit, and dwelling in the presence of a holy, omniscient God who loves us and desires to equip us in every way.

That’s the God I want to serve.

The God who can teach me through it all.

While on the one hand, I need to be willing to admit when what I’ve said, taught, or written has been rife with idealism (because, trust me, I’ve been guilty of that!). But, sometimes I need to go ahead and say it, then prove that God is who He says He is when the time comes for the lessons to be tested.

Posted in Thoughts from Kids, Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Others

Beautiful Ages

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

A picture popped up in my Facebook memories. One of my all-time favorites, actually. It pops up every year and I think I reshare it every year, even though it’s now well over a decade old.

The setting is a small town where we used to live. We lived on one edge of town and the post office was at the other end, but the town was small enough that even our littlest could make the trek with us.

On this particular spring day, he didn’t have to. His sisters decided that they wanted to give him and our life-sized stuffed emperor penguin Napoleon a ride in our son’s beloved little red wagon.

In the picture, my precious girls, aged 9 and 7 at the time, face away from the camera, one pulling the wagon and one pushing. (The joint effort wasn’t necessary, but that’s where they wanted to be.) Their 4-year-old brother sits in the wagon facing the camera, proudly holding Napoleon and grinning from ear to ear.

The picture is a beautiful representation of those days. My children fought and argued like any siblings, but they also adored each other. And the girls absolutely loved doing things for their brother. The image didn’t capture a rare sweet moment like some pictures do. Instead, it captured that season of our family’s life. Each year it pops back up in my Facebook feed and reminds me of the beauty of that season.

And yes, some days I miss it. It was not always easy. It was not always glorious, and there were days I wanted to move forward or move on or just be in a different place. But it was still good, and I loved my children being that age.

Here’s the thing, though. I love my children now, too. They are grown. That littlest one in the wagon is now the tallest and is joining his sisters in the adventure of adulthood.

All three of my children have hit some really, really hard days, and my heart grieves the pain they’ve had to journey through. But even though I wish I could protect them from the pain, I still cherish what they’ve learned to make them who they are today. And even though I sometimes miss the baby days or the wagon-pulling days or the lap-snuggling days or the read aloud on the couch days, I wouldn’t give up the grown-up days I’m enjoying now just to go back to the old times.

They are all beautiful ages.

Interestingly, there are some other posts that have popped up in my social media feeds that have also shared the glory and beauty of past ages. They are the posts that talk about how wonderful and beautiful childhood was for this generation or that. They accomplish this by declaring the current age to be ugly. They declare that children today will never be good enough or fulfilled enough or healthy enough or happy enough or whatever enough because they live in the wrong age.

Here’s the sad part about this perspective. It would be just like saying that my children are not good enough because they aren’t still 9, 7, and 4. They aren’t still pulling, pushing, and riding a little red wagon through a town they haven’t lived in for years.

This mindset declares that, because of things outside of their control, my children aren’t enough.

As parents, we tend to verbally mourn the loss of the “little” years without celebrating what we’ve gained in the “big” years.

As generations, we talk about how wonderful we had it when we were kids without celebrating the wonderful things that the new generation has that we didn’t.

Yes, I had a freedom to be outside and unrestricted. But I also lost connection with some potentially lifelong friends because I moved and they moved and we lost track of physical mailing addresses. My kids have more restrictions in some ways, but they have friends all around the globe that they interact with every single day.

They will never truly grasp the beauty of my childhood, but I will honestly never experience the beauty of theirs. And it’s okay. Good even. Because there are positives and negatives in every generation. There is beauty in every single age.

Infancy. Childhood. Teen years. Adulthood.

The 50s, the 80s, the 2020s.

Instead of bemoaning what is gone and belittling what is present, what if we were to extol the beauty of it all? What if we were to spend as much time exploring the good as slamming the bad?

We might just find that there’s a whole lot more beauty than we ever imagined possible. Yes, even today.

Posted in Thoughts from Others, What Works for Me

Relational Instruction

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Last week, I shared the first of two thoughts inspired by a stranger’s random comment. The first had to do with how we learn. The second is more about how we teach – or maybe more how we share advice.

What About Ideals?

When the Facebook stranger offered his one-word instruction regarding my family’s library visit, he gave me instruction without having any knowledge of me or my family. He instructed based on his ideals, not based on relationship.

While I do agree that we must hold firmly to certain ideals, I have learned that the number of firm ideals is, in all honesty, much smaller than I might like to believe. There are biblical truths that must govern every action. Then there are the lesser things.

How we learn is a much lesser thing. And, it is something learned through relationship. Through interaction. I am still discovering how my children learn best. I am still working to teach them according to their strengths, while teaching them also to challenge themselves in their weaknesses.

My husband’s teaching is an even better example. He has served in ministry for over twenty years, and it has been fascinating to watch him tailor his teaching method to each new congregation. He may have taught the same lessons over the years, but he has rarely taught them the same way. Why? Because his audiences – his congregations – have differed. As a result, he has always taken the time to get to know each congregation as much as possible in order to teach according to their strengths.

Relationships are key to teaching and learning.

The stranger who replied to my comment has no relationship with my family. Yet, I also have no relationship with him. Just as he cannot know how to best teach my family, I cannot know how he best learns.

Yet, I wonder how many times I’ve imparted advice in the same way. Without relationship.

These thoughts do not simply apply to parenting and how I raise/teach my children. They apply to life. How do we interact with others who learn and grow in gloriously different ways? How often do we attempt to corral others into our patterns? And how often do we instruct without first building relationship?

Instead of continuing to be agitated, I’m now rather thankful to this complete stranger, because he made me think. I won’t be changing my habits and restricting my children (or myself!) to non-fiction only. But, I will be more careful to stop and think before I speak. To get to know before I instruct. And to delight in the ways God created us to be gloriously individual!

Posted in Around the Web, Thoughts from Others

The Impact of Story

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

My job opens the door for me to interact with some fantastic people. Last fall, I had the privilege of interviewing Warren Walsh, Editorial Director for YWAM Publishing, for a pair of Family Magazine articles. This morning, the first of these articles was republished online.

The stories Warren shared express so beautifully the reason I believe strongly in the ability of story to impact lives. This article also shares a fantastic opportunity for ministry this Christmas – one dear to the heart of my family.

Read and enjoy!

***************************************

Prison Heroes 101

Stories are the mother tongue and currency of our hearts. This is the stuff with which we do the business transaction of life. It’s worldview. – Warren Walsh

For decades, YWAM Publishing has worked to produce and distribute resources that stir Christians to actively impact their world for Christ. But recently, a door has opened for YWAM to directly partner with their readers to minister in a powerful way through the Prison Heroes 101 project. YWAM Publishing Editorial Director Warren Walsh shares that, in all his years at YWAM, he has “never seen a project that has as much traction as this one does.”

What exactly is the Prison Heroes 101? What does it accomplish? Why is it such a powerful and successful project? And how is it relevant to the HEDUA audience? Family Magazine had the privilege of sitting down with Warren Walsh to discuss these very questions.

Please click here to read the rest of the article.

Posted in Thoughts from Others, What Works for Me

The Beauty of Story

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Some time ago, I commented on someone else’s Facebook post. It was an innocent comment about letting my children grab books from the library. I made the comment and forgot about it. But, months – yes, months – later, I was drawn back to the post when a complete stranger replied to my comment. It was a simple response:

“Non-fiction.”

That’s all it said. But the meaning was very clear. I would be a bad mother if I allowed my children to choose a new fiction favorite. I would be a bad teacher if I dared think they could learn from fiction.

Yes, I read all of that into this stranger’s simple response. Why? Because I’d heard the argument many, many times before.

Beyond What We Love

A quick response popped into my head. I wanted to make some comment about how sad it was that this stranger had never had the joy of learning from a fictional story. But, something stopped me. And as I took a moment to breathe and think, my irritation was replaced with sadness as two thoughts came to my mind.

Today, I want to share the first of those thoughts.

It is true that learning through story – whether fiction or non-fiction – can be incredibly joyful. But this stranger’s comment led me to realize just how often we dismiss forms of teaching that are not natural to us, simply because we do not learn well through them.

Several dear friends of mine greatly dislike fiction. It holds no allure for them. In fact, their minds simply do not process through story. Yet, they still recognize story as a powerful teaching tool. I, on the other hand, struggle with non-fiction that is not story-based. My mind needs a picture to take raw facts and turn them into something meaningful. Yet, I know that there is great value in learning to process factual information. So, I challenge myself to read non-fiction.

Learning happens in so many ways, yet we often get so caught up in our own learning preferences that we neglect – or even deny – all others. Then we criticize those who do not learn our way.

Every single time I have a “what works for me” thought, I am instantly reminded that it will not automatically work for my husband or my children or my dearest of friends or my fellow church members or my co-workers. If we all learned the same way, how boring would that be?!

So, what works for me? Learning through story and through narrative while stretching and challenging myself through non-fiction.

What works for you?