Tag: faith

Posted in Faith Nuggets, Thoughts from Scripture

Remembered

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

My morning devotional reading is quite varied. I do a personal Bible reading as well as reading for Sunday school and Bible studies. I usually read a devotional, and I keep two additional books going, one for spiritual growth and another for general personal growth.

All of those things vary and rotate depending on what’s in front of me at the moment. But, a number of years ago, I decided to add something consistent to my devotional reading: the Psalms. Every morning, I read from the Psalms. Some years it has been one a day, while other years I’ve slowed down and spent a week on each Psalm. Sometimes I’ve just focused on reading the Psalms themselves while other times I’ve included coordinating devotionals or commentary reading.

Through it all, it still amazes me that year after year I can see new things. These songs and prayers have become very familiar to me, and yet I still can be surprised by them.

Take Psalm 111, for example. It’s a beautiful “Hallelujah!” song of praise. But, for some reason, this year the contrast between Psalm 111 and the preceding Psalms hit me like it’s never hit me before.

In case you’ve never noticed, some of the Psalms can be quite brutal. Even in my darkest of times or heaviest of moods, I squirm at the extremity of some of the prayers I read in this emotion-filled ancient hymnal. But the greatest jolt comes when those deep, dark, and sometimes ugly prayers are followed immediately by ecstatic songs of praise.

Many of the Psalms preceding Psalm 111 are those dark, heavy prayers. In past readings, I’ve often felt a sense of relief in arriving at Psalm 111 after sitting through the heaviness of some pretty extreme lament. This year, though, the opening “Hallelujah!” hit me with a jolt and made me sit up and take notice. When I did, I was taken off guard, not by the disconnect, but by the continuity of this praise on the heels of grief. By the way it merges so well with the deep laments of some of the preceding Psalms.

The key for me was verse four: “He has caused his wondrous works to be remembered. The Lord is gracious and compassionate.” (CSB)

His wondrous works. Remembered.

We often think of words like wondrous, wonderful, and awesome in strictly positive terms. With that mindset, reference to God’s amazing and wondrous works bring to mind His miraculous hand rescuing His people. The parting of the Red Sea. The provision of nourishment. Healings. Resurrections. And those are all very, very valid remembrances and are some of the exact works that would have come to mind when the ancient Israelites recited or sang Psalm 111 together.

But, his wondrous works are also seen in His judgment. Why? Because the “works of his hands are truth and justice; all his instructions are trustworthy. They are established forever and ever, enacted in truth and in uprightness.” (verses 7-8)

Even when His works aren’t positive but instead bring the pain of judgment and leave us feeling forgotten and abandoned — themes many of the preceding Psalms explore — His wondrous works are still perfect and good and trustworthy.

We remember His wondrous works and we praise in ecstatic joy. But we also remember His wondrous works to give us something to cling to when it feels like everything is falling apart around us. We remember so that, even when we feel forgotten and abandoned, we can know somewhere in the depths of our beings that we aren’t.

He causes His wondrous works, whether miraculous works or works of judgment, to be remembered so that we can know we, too, are always remembered by Him. Whether we can lift up shouts of delight and joyful songs of praise or are simply grasping for whatever we can find to just help us survive in our depths, we remember. And our remembering assures us that we are remembered.

Wherever you are today, may this remembrance be yours. He is true. He is trustworthy. And He remembers you.

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 Faith Nuggets, Thoughts, Thoughts from Scripture

What He Has Done

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Revisiting another old post…this is a reminder that I needed today.

Every morning, I copy a few verses of Scripture. I love copying. It slows me down and makes me really think about what I am reading. Recently, Psalm 92:4 was the verse that made me pause.

Psalm 92 is a psalm of praise, which is nothing unusual. Psalms such as these abound, not only in the book of Psalms but throughout Scripture. I often seek out these songs when I am struggling to praise. They help me focus and redirect.

But, something about verse four of this particular psalm helped me realize why I do sometimes struggle with praise. Take a look at the verse with me.

For You, O Lord, have made me glad by what You have done, I will sing for joy at the works of Your hands.

The psalmist is focusing on what God has done, again a common theme in psalms of praise. But, truly pondering this truth made me realize something about myself.

I too often focus on what God has not done.

Sadly, focusing on what He hasn’t done comes quite easily. And the more we do it, the more easily it comes. Why? Because we love to focus on prayer requests. And not just prayer requests, but specific prayer requests. Physical healing. Marital healing. Provision. Open doors. Salvation.

When the answers we expect don’t come quickly, we pray harder. And we focus more and more on the reality that the healing is not coming. The marriage still fell apart. We were forced to make alternate decisions because the provision or open doors we expected were not there. And that loved one is still hardened to Christ Jesus.

Yes, it is very easy to notice all of the things He has not done.

It is much harder to stop, step back, and acknowledge what He has done, especially in the midst of disappointment over seemingly unanswered prayer. But that, my friends, is exactly what we must do.

What has God done around you this week? How has He shown His might? His power? His love? His creativity? His sense of humor? His majesty? His grace? His mercy? His protectiveness? His jealousy? His desire for a relationship with you?

How has He sought your attention? How has He reminded you of His Word? How has He used others around you to reveal Himself?

Once you start looking, you will be amazed by the infinite ways He has shown Himself this week. The incredible evidences of His handiwork will be overwhelming.

And, amazingly, the more you notice what He has done, the easier it will become – until one day you wake up and realize there is little, if anything, He hasn’t done.

Posted in Thoughts from Prayer

The Love of God

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I pray.

I have a prayer list. I also pray and journal through my daily Bible reading, seeking to listen to what the Spirit is saying to me through the Word of God.

I lift up short prayers during the day as needs or thoughts come to me.

Which obviously means that I do listen. I listen for His guidance about who and what to lift up to Him. I listen for nudges to send someone a text of encouragement. I listen for His teaching and correction, because I desperately want to be growing in righteousness and purity.

But lately I’ve been convicted of something. I’ve realized that I don’t listen for His affirmation. For His words of love. For His expression of delight in His creation.

Don’t get me wrong, I hunger for it. I’d love to know deep down in the core of my soul that He loves me. Truly loves me. That I am beloved and treasured by Him. That I bring Him delight as His creation.

Yes, I know Scripture states this to be true and therefore I should simply believe it. But it’s a lot easier to focus on all of the ways I need to improve. I’m a perfectionist who deals with the glaring reality of my imperfections. So, it’s much easier to hear words of correction whispered to my heart. It’s harder to take that particular truth of Scripture — one I’m quick to assure anyone and everyone else of — and make it my own personal reality.

In order to know this truth deep down in my soul, I first have to listen for it. Listening for affirmation takes a whole lot more time and energy than listening for correction and teaching. For nudges of action. Listening for truth that will change the core of my being, that will adjust how I think about myself, takes effort. It goes against the words I’ve told myself all of my life (and even what others have said to and about me). That I am just one of the many, very ordinary, and no one worth attention. That I fail so easily. That it’s enough that God would let me have salvation at all.

And yes, it is enough. But the problem is that my lack of listening often leads me to perceive salvation as a distant mercy that I just happen to be caught up in rather than an act of personal, intimate love.

Typing it out makes me see how ridiculous it is, and I would always encourage anyone else to walk away from such thoughts! And yet, I still act like this is how God sees me.

It’s not that I see God Himself as distant, because I hear His voice regularly. But I convince myself that His love is distant because I don’t hear His words of love easily. I want Him to make me better. Purer. More righteous. Being obedient is more important than feeling loved, right? If I can be “more” then I will be able to believe that He really does love me and has all along. These are the wrong and unbiblical thoughts I have to confess all the time in order to grow in the intimate knowledge of His love.

Yes, I pray.

But at some point my prayers have to intersect with the truth of a God who loves. Personally. Intimately. Passionately. And my listening has to be slow, deliberate, and intentional enough to hear Him say those words to me. Imperfect me who feels so undelightful.

I need to hear His delight.

I’m a work in progress. But I’m growing. And the more I grow in the knowledge of His love, the more those other prayers I pray will be overwhelming filled with His love. That is where I’m meant to be.

Posted in Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Scripture

The Heart of a Friend

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Some days, my heart is just heavy.

A part of me wants to just bury my head in the sand and ignore all of the yuck. But, in doing so, I end up trading sadness for naiveté, and that won’t do me any good either. My best choice is to sit with my heavy heart and ask God to speak into it.

And when I choose to sit with Him, He does speak, so very faithfully. He shows me Himself and His own heart while also showing me the areas in which my heart does not align with His. He shows me where, as I grow to better see and identify with His heart of love for those in this world who do not yet know Him, I’ve also been growing in bitterness toward those who are blocking that love. Those whose words and actions drive souls away from our Savior instead of toward Him.

He’s shown me that none of them are to be my enemies.

The things He’s shown me have led me to ponder what it means to have the heart of a friend. The heart of someone who grieves over another’s pain. The heart of someone who is pained by injustice. The heart of someone who aches over the reality that so many in this world are caught up in the hands of evil. The heart of someone who takes all of those realities to the Lord God Almighty, seeking His perspective, His heart, and His miraculous path to both justice and mercy.

This is where I struggle. This is where I’m convicted. Portions of the Sermon on the Mount speak into that conviction:

You have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I tell you, don’t resist an evildoer. On the contrary, if anyone slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also. As for the one who wants to sue you and take away your shirt, let him have your coat as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two. Give to the one who asks you, and don’t turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

You have heard that it was said, Love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven. For he causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward will you have? Don’t even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what are you doing out of the ordinary? Don’t even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.
Matthew 5: 38-48 (CSB)

As I read this recently, a question popped into my head: If my dearest friend had a need, how would I want to meet it? I would want to go over and above. I would want to lavish not only the need but any extra possible. I might not always be able to, but I want to. That’s my heart.

What if I viewed everyone that way? What if I made that the practical application of these verses from Matthew 5? To go above and beyond in my care and concern for all I come in contact with?

Much of the heaviness on my heart has been there for years now as I’ve watched people on all political sides sling mud on social media with such vitriol as they slam anyone who doesn’t love their favorite politician (or worse, does love “the other guy”). This is nothing new. It’s been going on for decades. It’s just so much more visible and available with social media.

It was there as I watched the hatred flow from all sides during the pandemic. It’s there every time a non-Christian publicly acts like, well, a non-Christian and Christians yell about being persecuted.

Every time someone else does something we don’t like, we use it as an opportunity to gripe, complain, degrade, and label. We forget that we’re supposed to be different. We forget that when we join in the flow of anger and hatred, we are not doing anything out of the ordinary. We are no different from the “Gentiles” we so greatly hate.

And yet, we’re commanded to be “perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

To treat all people as we would treat our dearest friend. To pray for them. To serve them. To love them.

Some days, I struggle to love those who hate Christ. Other days I struggle to love those who claim Christ but show hatred to their fellow man. Some days I just struggle to love them all. But Jesus Christ, Almighty Creator of all things, the one who loved so enormously that He gave His life for all of us, commands me to be like Him.

That’s my hunger, to obey and love like He did. Not to try to voice my opinion in an argument or get other people to think like me or make sure to let them know how wrong they are. Instead, to pray that they, too, will know His love. That they will see His heart. That they will hunger for His presence.

I’m far from perfect yet. But that’s my goal. And I’m so thankful for the love of the One who can so fill me with Himself that He can help me reach that goal.

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

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 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 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 Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Scripture

The Choice

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul. Psalm 94:19 (NASB)

This was the first verse on my mind this morning. I felt the anxiety tighten its band around me, even though I had no idea where it was coming from or what specific thing was causing it. So, I breathed this verse and asked the Lord to whisper to me the truths of His consolations. The things I sometimes don’t automatically remember when I’m in the middle of anxiety.

When the anxiety hits, instead of the consolations I usually see the circumstances. And never the good parts, no matter how numerous they might be. I only see the negative parts of our circumstances. The struggles. The discouragements. The places where we are lacking. I know this shouldn’t be my focus, but it can be hard to redirect. To actually enumerate the consolations of our amazing, victorious, loving God.

When I look in Scripture, I see many who were stuck in their circumstances. Abraham in the waiting. Jacob in his bondage to Laban. Joseph in slavery and prison. David in being pursued, first by Saul, then by one challenge after another. The Israelites in slavery and exile. The prophets in abuse and rejection of the people. And on and on and on.

But what I don’t see is evidence of rejection by God. They might have felt forsaken and abandoned by God, forgotten in their mire. But they weren’t. They just needed a different perspective.

This is what the psalmist recognized when penning the words of Psalm 94. Perspective was everything, and that perspective revolved around choosing to remember and receive God’s consolations. The truth about God.

That’s where I am today. The specific circumstances that weigh down on my heart and mind change through the years. But they are always there, in one form or another. They impact my heart, my mind, and even my health. They have wounded my husband and our children. We have often felt completely powerless to change them or to even protect our children.

Yet God is calling me to remember His consolations, no matter what today’s circumstances are. He’s calling me to remember who He is. His goodness. His truth. His purposes. His love. Circumstances may or may not reflect those things in the moment. But, He is above circumstances, and circumstances don’t change Truth.

The problem is not with the reality of God. The problem lies in the choice before me today. Before all of us in the throes of a struggle. Will we choose His consolations?

It’s hard work, and it’s easy to grow weary. But today I will choose His consolations.

I can’t speak for tomorrow or the next day, only for today. And today I will choose and pray that they really do delight this anxious soul.

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.