Posted in Faith Nuggets, Thoughts from Life

Joyful & Triumphant Adoration

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I came across this old post this morning. Originally written over a decade ago around Christmas time, it still resonates with a reminder I need today. Every day. So thankful for the Spirit’s whispers to my heart, rather it’s from the words of others or from reminders of things He’s spoken to my heart in the past. 

As I opened my journal to write out my thoughts and prayers this morning, my heart felt heavy. At first I couldn’t even think what to write. Where should I begin? How could I turn it all over to the Lord?

In my heart and mind I felt the jumble of needs.

The spiritual weight of several people I love who have never surrendered to the Lord. Or those who have surrendered but are distant from Him now, hurting themselves and others with that distance.

The emotional weight of watching people dear to me struggle under grief, uncertainty, and need.

The mental weight of seeing my own schedule and todo list, wondering how to balance it all while still being available for my family and the ministry needs around me.

I just didn’t know how to begin to pour it all out before the Lord.

But we had music playing – instrumental Christmas music. The song running at the time was a piano version of “O Come All Ye Faithful.”

The first line ran through my mind as I listened:

O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant

All I could think to write was,

Joyful and triumphant? That’s not how I feel this morning, Lord. But I will still come adore You. For You alone truly are worthy.

Do you realize that He is not just worthy – He is faithful? Oh, so very, very faithful. Powerfully faithful. And in that moment, He showed that faithfulness to me.

Not many words followed on my journal page, but one powerful thought took control: the reminder that He can take any of the things weighing down on my heart and use them for His glory.

But, it doesn’t stop there. He doesn’t just take any of it. He takes all of it. Let that sink in a minute. There is no picking and choosing. There is no sense that He has to prioritize and only handle certain things for His glory. No, He has the power to take all of it – every single thing that weighs us down – and glorify Himself through it.

It still doesn’t stop there, though. He not only has the power and the ability. He not only can. He will. There is a certainty.

He will do it!!

Not some. All.

Maybe not the way I would choose or want. Maybe not in any way I can foresee. And maybe still not without heartache on our part. But, it will be the way that is, beyond a doubt, best. And He will be glorified.

What is weighing you down this week? What has you maxed out and overwhelmed. What has you in tears? What has you anxious and stressed?

Whatever it is, be assured that He will use it beautifully for His glory.

May I share something with you, my friends? I feel it now. The struggles are still there. But now the joy and triumph are too. Oh, what a mighty God we serve who can turn that around in a matter of seconds!

Will you come adore Him with me?

Posted in Thoughts from Life

The Work of Learning

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Let’s set a scene for a moment. Child comes in from school. Parent, grandparent or other adult is waiting, ready to start a conversation, hoping to discover how the school day went. Despite all of the hopes of the adult, the conversation frequently ends up being little more than a brief exchange, going something like this:

“What did you learn today?”
“Nothing.”

You just might be chuckling right now as you connect those words to familiar voices. You’ve probably overheard that exchange once or twice, if not had it yourself. It’s possible you’ve even been on both sides of the conversation. The adult sometimes pushes, hoping the child will dig a little deeper and realize that learning really has occurred. Other times, the adult simply chuckles, recognizing the truth that, even if the exchange remains exactly the same day after day after day, it will be obvious by the end of the year that the child did, in fact, learn a great deal through the course of the year.

Every single day, students receive information, engage with it, process it, and reinforce the learning of it through discussions, projects, and tests. Learning happens slowly but steadily, reinforced through the very system that they often assume is failing them because they don’t tangibly see what they learned that day, week, month, or year. Learning is work. It takes time. But our educational systems are designed to guide students through that lengthy process in such a way that they don’t even realizing the work is truly…well…working.

Now, I admit that not all of our educational systems are successful. That’s another discussion for another time and place. But the point is that learning happens for students whether they are consciously aware of it or not, simply because they are engaged in a system that helps them engage with the information presented to them. It is a system designed to equip the learning process.

Then we graduate and the system changes. We have avenues for learning how to meet the demands of our jobs. And we have demands that insist we learn even when there are not systems in place to help us with the learning. Tax season insists that we learn how to file properly. Life management requires that we learn how to keep up with cleaning and maintenance of our homes and vehicles.

But, there is so much more to learn than just how to do our jobs or pay our taxes or maintain homes and vehicles. A wide range of personal growth awaits us throughout our adult years. It’s just so easy to miss that growth because we lack the automatic systems that present the information we need before guiding us through a pattern of reinforcement.

So, we have to create those systems ourselves. We have to build habits of taking in, processing, and engaging with new information. And we have to make ourselves push through, even as they days, weeks, and months pass with us feeling like that child who has learned “nothing” in school. Just like that child, we don’t see the increments of growth. We’ll only discover it when we look back after a year or two, or maybe even ten, and see how we are different now. How our understanding has grown. How our patterns have changed. How our hobbies or habits or skills are more developed.

Friends, that’s hard work.

But it’s worthwhile work. It’s worth it to have a huge “to be read” stack of personal growth books. It’s beneficial to make yourself journal something every single day even if it’s hard to pinpoint what stood out. It’s progress when you keep practicing, keeping pounding, keep persevering even when you don’t benefit or progress from your effort.

It’s worth it because you’re learning something, even when it feels like nothing. Yes, it’s hard work. Yes, it seems as pointless as sitting in a classroom often did when you were a student. But, at the end of the year, you’ll be able to look back and see that somewhere along the way you really did learn. You grew. You improved. You advanced. You progressed.

That’s the hard work of learning. And it’s worthwhile. So, what have you learned today?

Posted in Thoughts from Life

Upstream

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Have you ever watched fish in a river or stream swim against the current? It’s truly fascinating, especially in those moments when they swim but seem to make no progress.

It’s how I feel so very often. Like I’m pumping those fins but not getting anywhere. I’m trying to make progress in learning and growing and serving in the kingdom of God, but I fill as if I’m going nowhere and simply exhausting myself in the process.

I don’t know much about the science behind why fish swim against the current, but I can think of a few reasons why it would make sense. In some locations, if fish flowed with the current, they would eventually wash out to sea where they would die in an environment unsuited to them. And we all know the fascinating behavior of salmon who swim upstream to spawn in the same place where they themselves were spawned.

Despite my ignorance of the science behind why these fish behave the way they do, I know one thing for certain. They behave the way God designed them to behave. He created them with this natural drive to swim against the current. If He did it, it is good.

Do I trust that truth for myself as well? Do I trust that all of my struggles in life, in learning, and in serving are still in His hand? That He is guiding and strengthening and working in me even when it feels that I’m flapping away and make zero progress?

Do I trust that, no matter what, His engagement in my life is good?

I don’t really have a biblical reason to compare myself to a fish swimming against the current. It’s simply a reflection of how I feel sometimes. When I see a fish swimming with all its might and going nowhere, I identify with this living illustration from nature.

But there are truths that I do have biblical reason to believe. I share the yoke with Him, and His yoke is easy. His burden is light on my shoulders. Yes, even in the middle of the current. Even when I’m flapping my fins and feeling like I’m going nowhere.

I’m in that season right now where it feels like I’m not making any progress. But my heavenly Father is constant, and His Spirit is still whispering truths to my heart and mind. He is still growing me and drawing me closer to Himself, even when it feels like I am not truly making progress.

So, I’ll keep flapping those fins. I’ll keep swimming. And I’ll trust the progress to His faithfulness.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

So Many Words

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I’ve struggled in writing lately. A few weeks ago, I had a couple of days when the words just flowed. They weren’t ready to be published, and I still don’t know where they’ll go, but they poured out of me through my fingers.

Then they stopped.

Some days I’d write and then delete because it just wouldn’t all come together. The thoughts were there, but the ability to communicate them failed me. Other days there was just nothing. No thought. No inspiration. No nothing.

For a writer, that feels bad, something to be overcome. No writer wants to admit to writer’s block, and suggestions abound for working out of a place of blocked creativity or flow.

I wonder sometimes, though, if that is our problem. Whether we are writers or artists or engineers or researchers or teachers or whatever, we spend so much time and effort trying to resist blocked paths. I can’t help but wonder if that very effort ends up contributing to the creation of the blocked paths we so greatly fear. If we experience a void, it is something to escape, never something to lean into and experience.

Could that keep us from discovering new avenues of creativity? Could the fact that I am constantly reaching for so many words be the very thing that keeps me from listening for the words I really need? The words that will take me to the next lesson? The next exploration? The next discovery? The next thoughts to share?

Years ago, the music trio Phillips, Craig, and Dean released a song entitled “Let My Words Be Few.” The lyrics are suitably simple, focused on awe and love for Jesus and the recognition that sometimes basking in His presence is better than many words. I remember chuckling a bit when I first heard the song because it was coming from three pastors. These men rely heavily on their ability to communicate with words. Words make up the core of their professions, both through music and in the pulpit. Without words, they would have quite the struggle on their hands. Yet they recognized that sometimes their words needed to be few.

I miss that truth so very often. Apps like Grammarly fuss at me regularly because of my love for adjectives and adverbs. I like to illustrate and intensify, even when it isn’t necessary. Much of what I say could easily be expressed in half as many words, but why do that when you can make words so pretty? So many words exist. Shouldn’t I try to use as many of them as possible?

That inclination, though, can get me bogged down in words. And then when the words don’t flow, when a thought comes through in a couple of short paragraphs or doesn’t even come at all, I feel as if I’m failing. I’m blocked. And that’s bad, right?

Right??

Perhaps not.

Maybe instead of being a bad time, it’s a time to lean into. Maybe it’s a challenge of trust. If I need words, whether for my own healthy processing or for my livelihood, perhaps the void of words is a signal I’m not listening to the Author of words. The one who gives me the ability to use those words.

Perhaps He’s calling me to listen better.

Am I will to say here I am and listen, with or without words?

Posted in Uncategorized

Ingrained

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Every morning, I get on the treadmill. Well, that’s the plan, anyway. Some weeks are better than others, but I know it does help when I walk. So, even on the days when I know I have to get out the door early, even ten to fifteen minutes on the treadmill can make a difference.

Recently, on one of those short mornings, I didn’t really have enough time to listen to an audio book or lecture, so I turned on some music to help spur me on. Because it was going to be a short walk, I got warmed up, then pumped up the intensity for my quick walk. Which meant I had to focus really hard on my breathing. Guess what you can’t really do when you’re needing to focus on breathing during a high intensity workout? Yep, sing along to your favorite songs.

So, I decided to just mouth the words.

Um, guess what I do when I’m mouthing a song? I take a deep breath as if I’m actually singing, but then since I’m not really singing, I hold it instead of letting it out steadily.

Guess what isn’t a good idea when you’re doing a short, high intensity walk on the treadmill? Holding your breath for any length of time.

Oops!

I tried to stop holding my breath. I tried mouthing the words while still focusing on controlled breathing. It just wouldn’t work. I could not mouth the words to the song and breathe correctly at the same time. I’m not great at breath control under any circumstances, whether in exercising or singing. It’s something I’m trying to actively improve. But in this situation, I was downright horrible. I couldn’t do something as simple as move my lips while still managing my breathing.

That is the mark of a behavior that is very deeply ingrained, and we often have no idea how deeply it is ingrained — or even that we do it — until we try to do something that goes against the nature of the action.

A lot can be said about challenging poor behavior that is deeply ingrained, and there is a place for that. But the whole experience actually pushed my thoughts in the opposite direction. What good behaviors do I want to have that deeply ingrained?

I want to pray that way. I want prayer to be so much a part of my life that I can’t not pray. Sadly, that’s not true of me. I pray regularly. I pray throughout the day. I lift up breath prayers very often. But I still fall prey to distractions that redirect my mind away from prayer. Worry. Problem solving. Hashing over a conversation. Allowing random thoughts to distract. I pray, but…

The same is true of praise.

And speaking before I stop to think (or pray) over whether or not there are better things to say or if silence would be even better.

And so many other habits and behaviors that distract me from being the person I hunger to be.

We all know that habits can be formed through practice. Deeply ingrained behaviors go even further than habits, growing from behaviors persistently developed through practice, intentionality, and focus until they become so natural we don’t even think about them. Despite what the time management gurus might tell you, very few things in life progress to ingrained behaviors. Even breathing. Although the act of breathing might be natural to me (maybe because it’s a bit essential for life!), it’s still a bit overwhelming to think about how much I’ll have to intentionally practice if I want to breathe properly while singing and exercising — and do it without truly thinking about it.

This breathing challenge reminded me just how powerful ingrained behaviors are once they are established. And it reminded me that I have the ability to become a person of habitual prayer and praise — a person whose ingrained behaviors truly do point the world to Christ. If I’m willing to do the work.

If that’s the person I want to be, then the effort to create those behaviors is beyond worthwhile. It’s vital. And every single day of practice gets me that much closer to truly ingraining them into my innermost being.

So today, I’m consciously practicing. And tomorrow. And the next day. I’ll neglect it some days, I’m sure. I’ll get distracted at times. I’ll be downright discouraged other times. But I have determined to remind myself daily to practice again and again and again. And years from now, I’ll one day look up and discover that I can’t not pray. Or praise. Or point people to Christ.

That’s the person I want to be.

Posted in Thoughts from Scripture

Why Can’t You?

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

“If I can do it, anyone can do it!”

The words are meant to encourage. To motivate. To make something seem not so hard. I’ve been on the frustrated receiving end of those words. I’ve also been guilty of saying them.

I’m not known for my grace and coordination. I remember my father frequently informing me that coordination strikes every ten seconds, and one of these days it would hit me! It doesn’t very often, for the record. But, that means that if a task requires coordination, I assume that if I can do it, anyone can. (Cue driving a stick shift. My father tried to teach me. He’s one of the most patient men I know, despite his teasing about my lack of coordination. But he did give up on teaching me to manage the clutch. He successfully taught me how to drive an automatic — and how to parallel park, thank you very much. But it was several years later, well after I was a confident driver, that my future husband finally taught me how to drive his five-speed truck.)

If I can do it, anyone can do it…right?

A book I was reading this morning made reference to Hebrews 4:14-16. Even though I knew what the passage said, I’m trying to make a habit of always rereading Scripture references brought up in books or articles I’m reading, paying attention to context and depth. So, I turned to the passage and read the familiar verses.
14 Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens—Jesus the Son of God—let us hold fast to our confession. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has been tempted in every way as we are, yet without sin. 16 Therefore, let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need. (CSB)

I suddenly felt slapped in the face. Shame spread over me, tears sprung to my eyes, and I couldn’t even bring myself to go back to the book I’d been reading. Why this visceral reaction? Because the voice I heard in my head was not one of encouragement, reminding me of the amazing loveliness of our High Priest. Instead it was an ugly voice.

“If He could do it, why can’t you? You claim to have His power, but you fall to your weaknesses. You succumb to temptation. You are never without sin. No boldness for you!”

Ouch! I knew it wasn’t truth. I really did. And yet, how often is this our go-to thought? As we discuss passages that talk about righteousness and our place before a holy God, we are much quicker to think of ourselves as sinners who just barely scraped our way in because of the grace of God than we are to think of ourselves as children of God who can approach the throne of grace with boldness.

You think I’m wrong? Listen to our music. Our prayers. Our discussions in Bible studies and Sunday school. The way we never, ever want to refer to ourselves as righteous. It’s only Jesus who is righteous. We deserve nothing because we can accomplish nothing.

And it shows in our other conversations, as well. Oddly enough, looking at one another and saying, “If I can do it, anyone can do it,” is more a reflection of our own frailty and lack than it is of believing in one another. We think so lowly of ourselves that we firmly believe that we can only accomplish things that are unbelievably easy.

And so, when we come to the holy, precious, truthful Word of God and see the hard things we’re called to do in the power of the Spirit, we falter. We remind ourselves that we’re not Jesus, so we can’t go boldly before His throne of grace.

We neglect the truth, the very point, of passages like this. Jesus gets it! He knows right where we are! He’s been there, knows exactly what is needed to navigate this exact struggle, this exact weakness, this exact journey of grief. And because He succeeded, He knows just what we need to get through it. So, instead of looking at us and saying, “If I can do it, anyone can,” He looks at us and says, “You can’t do this on your own. You need Me. My mercy. My grace. The very things I had at my disposal when I took on Your weakness. And I am giving you what no one else can: full and open access to all of it. All you have to do is come to Me and desire it. Ask for it. Receive it from My hand.”

Where are you struggling? Where are you weak? What are you failing to do no matter how hard you try? What are you seeming to do successfully on the surface while recognizing deep down that the cost is too high for you to keep it up?

Why can’t you just do it? Because you, like me, have fallen prey to the lie that you have no right to go boldly before the throne of grace. But Jesus says otherwise.

Let’s go boldly before His throne today.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

Messy & Real

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I’m struggling today.

I want to publish something, especially after not getting anything up in the chaos that has been our past week. But, I’m tired, words aren’t flowing very well, and I’m not even doing a great job of processing old stuff to edit. In all honesty, none of that stuff feels “real” for today. It was real and genuine at one time, and it will be again. But not today.

Here’s the deal: I like things neat and tidy. Orderly. Give me a good routine, a nicely ordered checklist, a structured week, and a place for everything with everything in its place, and you’ll have a happy Ann.

So, just out of curiosity, how often has even one full day been nice and tidy for you? Yeah, me neither. It might be desirable, but it’s not ever real. We try to make it reality, though, don’t we? Especially those of us who are ordered, structured people. Whether on a blog, via social media, or even on Sunday mornings when we head to church, we like to give others these neat and tidy snapshots of our lives. Lessons learned and wrapped up in a bow. Thoughts that are complete and full and structured. Smiles that say we’re fine and blessed and everything is going great!

On the one hand, that’s what I want to give today. It’s what I wanted to give last week, too. I knew the week was going to be chaotic, messy, and exhausting, so I intended to have multiple posts scheduled and ready to go, posts that reflected those structured thoughts or tied up lessons or abundant blessings. (Don’t get me wrong, I do have structured thoughts and solid lessons learned and abundant blessings. But, they are never that simple and straightforward.) Instead, I ran out of time. So, I ended up sharing nothing.

Then I sat down this morning to remedy last week’s neglect, and I hit a wall. I didn’t know what to share, either in fresh writing or in edits of my backlog. I don’t have a whole lot of brain power this morning after the exhaustion of last week, so I figured I’d just find something to share that says, “Hey, I’m back!”

Except I want to be real.

I want to be seen. I want to be known. I want to share what I’m experiencing and learning. But I often find myself wishing that I could be seen and known without revealing that my real life is messy and untidy, despite my best inclinations. I want real life to be that neat, tidy, bow-on-the-top package so that I can be honest and be orderly all at the same time. (For the record, I can’t even tie a pretty bow on a gift, so that mental image does make me laugh a bit!)

But it’s not. I cannot be known and seen without admitting the mess. I cannot honestly share genuine thoughts this morning without admitting that I’m just plain tired. Oh, I can find something I’ve written in the past and tidy it up for you, but it will not reflect me right now.

Sometimes that’s okay. Sometimes it’s better to wait until I can give something that’s a little more complete and whole, a little tidier, and a little more coherent. Sometimes you don’t need to see the mess.

But sometimes you do. Because the honest truth is that life is messy for all of us. And we’re all learning and growing through that mess. And if all we ever share is the pretty — and complete — packages, then we’re not being real or honest with one another. And as a result, we’re not encouraging one another.

So, here’s me being messy and untidy. Here’s me letting you know that after a week that was exhausting and chaotic — although also really good — I don’t have a lot to give or even a lot of ability to receive. But I’m here. And today is a “real” day. And that real day is part of what contributes to the learning and growing, the thoughts I can share and the lessons I’ve learned.

If you’re in the middle of messiness or exhaustion or chaos, know you’re not alone. And know that this is part of real life. This is part of growing. This is part of truly living. Part of the puzzle pieces that come together to give us thoughts and lessons learned. Part of what enables us to encourage and strengthen one another in the journey.

That’s what I have today — the realization that even in the mess and exhaustion, there is something to share. When I struggle, I still have to try. Wherever you are today, I hope you can find the encouragement to do the same.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

About Me

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Yesterday I wrote over a thousand words before I ever started writing an actual blog post. I have no idea what I will do with what I wrote first. It doesn’t really fit anywhere right now. It’s just there.

Today I wrote another 1800 words before starting this blog post. It doesn’t fit with yesterday’s writing, I don’t think, so it’s not like I can put it all together. It could be the introduction to a book. Maybe. If I can figure out how to flesh out the rest of the idea. But I don’t know. It’s just there. It’s just thoughts that poured out of my head randomly, exploding from a place that has been buried for a long time.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I vividly remember being ten years old standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes while mentally writing an instruction manual for washing dishes. (Yes, please laugh. It’s hilarious.) Later, I kept a notebook where I hand wrote portions of stories that filled my head.

But I could never go anywhere with the stories. I had bits and pieces, but nothing real that I could truly form into a plot or a point. Having heard “real” writers talk about how their stories almost wrote themselves, I figured I wasn’t a “real” writer. I was just a wannabe writer. A fake. No need to waste time on such nonsense if I wasn’t a real writer.

And yet, there have been times in my life when the words really did flow. I didn’t always know what to do with them, just as I have no idea what to do with the words that have pounded out through my fingers over the past couple of days. But, I’ve been most healthy as a person — and had the strongest inclination that maybe I am a writer after all — when I’ve let the words just come. When I’ve written them whether I knew what to do with them or not.

The problem is that I like to be productive. To have a purpose for what I do. If the words have no place, why should I waste my time writing them?

But, when I’ve tried to only write what has seemed productive, the writing has dried up, leaving me in seasons where I couldn’t write my own thoughts. Where I had no voice. Where I wondered if I even had thoughts at all any more. Those seasons left me feeling dry and dead and silent and so very far from being seen or understood.

A lesson I’m very, very, very slowly learning is that sometimes productivity has nothing to do with the usefulness of what I produce. Sometimes it has to do with just being good for me, even if it does absolutely nothing for anyone else. Sometimes that really is productive.

That’s hard for me. I’m a people pleaser by nature. And, after all, doesn’t Scripture warn us against thinking too highly of ourselves? So, it’s definitely hard to believe that I should spend any time on an activity that might never do anything for anyone else. How can that be godly? How does that grow the kingdom? How does that even compute?

And yet, I am better today for having written those 2800 words yesterday and today, as well as the words that I know I’ll turn into blog posts. I am healthier. Which means I am more capable of investing in other people. These are realities, but I have to figure out a way to convince myself of their validity day after day after day. Otherwise, I won’t keep writing the random thousand words here and there. And if I don’t keep doing that, I won’t be able to keep writing blog posts. Or processing the thoughts I have in my head that make me who I am and help me engage well with others.

Sometimes it is about me. I don’t like it. I struggle with it. But it’s the truth.

Sometimes it’s about you, too. Sometimes you need to do things solely for the sake of your own health. Your own growth. Your own pleasure, even. Because when you do, you are learning who God made you to be. You’re learning the gifts He placed in you. You’re honing them and developing them. Even if in this moment it feels selfish and all about you, it’s actually about so much more. It really is about honoring God with every single part of who you are.

I’m going to forget this. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but probably next week. Next month. A year from now. I’ll forget it. And I’ll need to be reminded. I won’t want to be reminded, but I’ll need it.

So today, while I’m aware and accepting this truth, I’m saying it.

What truth do you need to say out loud today? What do you need to record? What will you need reminded of next week? I’ll be glad to help. Because this is how both of us will grow. Are you in?

Posted in Thoughts from Scripture

Growing

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I am growing. It’s a natural part of life. We should always be growing mentally, emotionally, spiritually…in many ways. Growth is life, and we should seek it, even when it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world.

Over the years, though, I’ve learned a truth about growth. Just about the time you think you’ve made good progress and you can claim a measure of maturity in an area, something comes along to show you just how much you have left to learn. This is most especially true when it comes to spiritual growth. The Holy Spirit is such an amazing teacher, isn’t He? He gives us just what we need each step of the way to learn the next lesson. But, on the flip side, this means that we don’t see the fullness of the growing challenge ahead of us. We see the next step or two. Not the full hill. He’s patient with us and kind to us and helps us not feel so overwhelmed on the journey. But, we still have to recognize that our growth won’t stop with the next lesson learned.

Recently I was preparing a Bible study lesson/discussion on 1 Corinthians 1:10-25, the next passage in the guide I was working through for this particular group time. I went in with a general theme to work from, but mostly I did what I normally do when exploring a passage for personal study or teaching. I started reading through the passage repeatedly, asking the Lord to show me where He wanted me to go with the discussion time.

Sometimes I pray that prayer very specifically in hopes that He’ll give me just what I’m supposed to share in the Bible study or discussion time. But I know better. He never stops there. He also always gives me my own little private training session. Or discipline session. Or kick in the behind. Whatever you want to call it. It’s real. And it’s not always fun.

But it’s always good and necessary.

In this particular instance, I was doing a little research on Corinth, learning about the Corinthians’ love for a good debate and their societal tendency to elevate those who were the most eloquent in said debates. I jokingly thought to myself how poor of a fit I’d have been in Corinth. I hate debates and arguments. I want to just make a statement that will help both sides understand each other and move on. Agree to disagree, people. It’s okay! You can have different views and still get along. Let’s make it happen!

I processed through this passage, expecting to make my mental observation about not wanting to move to first-century Corinth and move on. But no. The Lord gave me that nudge that said, “Let’s take a look at this for a minute.”

Uh-oh.

The hinge point was verses 22-23: “For the Jews ask for signs and the Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles.”

And the thought came to my mind: What is your goal when you try to bring peace to an argument? Is it to bring peace? Or to proclaim Christ?

Oof. I knew immediately that this thought was not one for building a lesson or laying the groundwork for a discussion. This was for me. This was to wake me up to my own priorities. I hunger to stop conflict. To make things feel better and help people see eye to eye. That’s enough, right? Nope. Not if my calling, my whole purpose in life, is to point people to Jesus Christ. If that’s my purpose, then it’s not about this side or that. It’s about Jesus. Period. A no-brainer, right? And yet, it was still a lesson I needed to be taught.

This is the reality of spiritual growth. It can come from unexpected directions at unexpected times. It can catch us right in the middle of a moment when our focus is on something completely different. It can catch us by surprise. But, if we’re listening, we always know when that moment hits. We suddenly see something very clearly and wonder that we didn’t know it all along. And then we are confronted with the challenge of implementing this new understanding in our lives.

That’s growth. It’s not huge or magic or like a bolt of lightning striking us with an epiphany. It doesn’t always “preach.” It doesn’t even have to be specifically while we’re studying Scripture. I’ve had these nudges in the middle of cooking a meal, teaching my children, or driving down the road.

Growth is listening. It’s being aware when the Spirit says, “Let’s take this further.” It’s recognizing that the Lord Jesus Christ knows each of us better than anyone. He knows what we know and what we have yet to learn. He knows what we’re going through and what we’ll be facing next week. He knows what we need to pay attention to. And He will tell us.

And when we listen, we grow. It’s not always pleasant. It’s not always fun. It sometimes hurts.

But it’s always, always good.

Posted in Family

Together

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I recently ran across something I wrote more than a few years ago, back when we believed empty nesting was still a long way off…

A couple of weeks ago, we headed out for a much-needed and highly anticipated family getaway. We left early on a Thursday morning because our mouth-watering, start-vacation-off-right, pancake and omelet breakfast treat was an hour away in the destination city of Hot Springs. It was a delight to hear the proclamations of, “Wow, that’s just good,” and see the expressions of delight as the kids tasted phenomenal apple pancakes, delectable omelets, fresh-squeezed orange juice, local sausage, thick bacon, and delightful apple butter. Before climbing back into the car to head on to our cabin twenty miles away, we walked off our fullness by browsing the shops that were open at such an early hour, and I once again delighted in the responses of my children as we entered a cute shop with pottery and carvings and jewelry. We ended up having to drag them out, even after they’d made small purchases and thought they were done looking. They kept finding new treasures they’d missed!

And then there was the cabin on the lake. A glorious retreat into peace and quiet and fresh air and beautiful views. A treasure for each and every one of us. Some of the time, we interacted. Walking around the park. Hiking a trail. Skipping rocks at the lake. Closing out each day with s’mores or warm beverages and a game of some sort. Other times, we did our own thing. Curling up with books either in separate rooms or scattered around the cabin’s living room. Wandering around outdoors. Sitting out on the porch with a cup of something or other, watching the rain fall.

But even when we did our own thing, we were together.

And that’s what I love about our family. We love being together. Oh, we frequently go our separate ways out of necessity, but we all like coming back together. We enjoy sharing things with one another. Laughing together. Discussing with one another. Speaking in movie or book quotes and pursuing philosophic contemplations together.

Just being together. Whether we’re interacting or doing our own thing.

Life is very different now. Our oldest lives two hours away. Our middle is choosing to spend her summer break from college here at home, but it’s temporary. She and our youngest will pack up and head to college together this fall. Our time of everyday physical, geographic togetherness has come to an end.

But here’s the sweet part. All five of us still really like doing life together. Sharing in the everyday, even when we’re not under the same roof. It has had to change forms, now looking like a Discord server where we enjoy random discussions about all sorts of topics. Now looking like taking the opportunity to enjoy one another’s company in groups of two or three, only occasionally getting all five of us together. Now looking like playing online games instead of gathering around a table once a week for game night.

When I think of families I’ve known through the years, the consistent reality is that the happiest of those families are those who enjoy being together, whether they have plans or are just being. And there is a distinct common thread that runs through all of the families who enjoy one another. They are all intentional about their togetherness.

Togetherness doesn’t happen by accident. Neither does the desire to be together. Both must be intentionally chosen. Actively cultivated. Even stubbornly pursued through the times when togetherness is not the pleasure and bliss we enjoyed during that memorable cabin vacation.

Sometimes togetherness is hard. Sometimes we get on one another’s nerves or wish for someone else — anyone else — to be with. (And yes, there are many times when we need to be with other people, but that’s another topic for another day.) But the good only comes when we choose the work. The discipline. The intentional interaction.

Togetherness may not be so easily accomplished these days. But my prayer is that we will never lose the joy of our togetherness, even if it has to be enjoyed through creative means. I also pray that our children are able to take that joy into their own adult lives. That they are able to cultivate and celebrate togetherness with whatever community or family God blesses them with.

Because it’s a beautiful thing to enjoy life…together.