Driving to church yesterday morning I said to my husband, “You know, it seems like the closer I get to Jesus the more wretched I realize I am”. From the outside it looks like my life is gift wrapped in a sweet white box with a pretty, red satin bow. This box is what stops an unbeliever, someone who doesn’t believe they can be used by God, from looking inside.

For an unbeliever it looks so easy for someone like me to believe and follow Jesus.

Yes, I was single for a long time and pretty much cried through every moment of it, but now I’m married.

And sure my husband had a very dramatic heart transplant two years ago, but he lived, and now we’re having a baby.

No, I don’t have any addictions that invaded my life and tried to destroy me.

My life looks like it’s been perfectly gift wrapped, and a gift wrapped life makes it much easier to believe that there’s a God who can use you than a life that’s scattered about with no direction.

Even I think this way about others.

Every morning I turn on my computer to blog posts and Facebook updates showing me a lot of gift wrapped lives. Then I think to myself, “Well of course she’s successful or has a perfect marriage and good kids and a flourishing ministry. Her parents were missionaries, she went to Bible college, and now her husband’s a pastor.”

I, too, am an unbeliever. I don’t believe that my life can ever resemble such “goodness” because it’s not gift wrapped as neatly as theirs.

This is what stops an unbeliever from moving forward. 

But what we don’t see is what is on the inside. We don’t bother to lift the lid on that perfectly wrapped box and take a peak into the battles that take place deep inside.

They are the battles of the soul.

I think that when a woman’s heart gets pricked by Jesus for the first time the enemy’s first defense is to swoop in and persuade her to look around and compare herself to all the pretty, red satin bows she sees. Then he tells her that she could never be worthy enough of someone like Jesus because she used to do or still does x, y, and z.

What she doesn’t know is that once upon a time, before I was close to Jesus, I had my own set of x, y, and z’s. But those are the things that He changed first, and that’s why you no longer see them.

As a woman’s heart changes usually the outside behaviors are the first to change, too. You no longer cuss or party or go out with the bad boys. Your life gets put in a box, and the past becomes a secret for you to open to only those who you want to see inside.

But it’s the soul stuff that takes a lot longer to change. This is the stuff inside the box like pride and envy and laziness and malice. It’s the stuff that is easy to hide from most people. It’s the stuff that Jesus usually takes a lifetime to change so that we learn to rely on Him. 

What stops an unbeliever is not believing that everyone has an inside to their box, and God uses them despite of it.

Today’s Challenge: See if you are looking around at everyone else’s “boxes” and believing that you can’t be used by God because yours isn’t as neatly packaged. Ask God to protect you from this lie and show you that you can be used by Him regardless of what your life has been like.  

Have you ever struggled with thinking you cannot be used by God because of your past? 

My new eBook, Fall for Him,  was written from believing that I could be used by God. And not just the parts of me tied up nicely with a bow – all of me.  The book will be released in October, so sign up for email updates so that you don’t miss any of the details! Also, download a chapter overview here and look for a free chapter coming soon!

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Hear It, Use It

The Better Mom

 

 

This month is Blog Month at Compassion, and I am participating by sharing my stories about child sponsorship.

Have you ever truly questioned how you could make a difference to a child thousands of miles away? If so, then my story today is for you. I am writing a letter to God, really asking Him for forgiveness, for ever questioning the difference not that I make, but that He is able to make through me.

Please consider becoming a child sponsor. I had the opportunity to see my sponsored child face-to-face, and I can assure you, your sponsorship does make a difference.

Dear God,

It’s been almost a year since you sent me on that trip to Burkina Faso, West Africa where she lives. I was scared to death to go, and even though I cried and begged you not to send me you wanted me to be there anyway.

Months before when I sat on that sofa at church looking through hundreds of pictures of children who need you desperately, I never knew that the child I finally landed on would teach me so much about you. I knew I wanted to sponsor a girl, and I knew I wanted her to be older. It seems like everyone wants the little kids, but I wanted someone who I could at least help for a few more years.

There she was. She was beautiful.

That day in Burkina, it was the Thursday of our trip, I waited to meet her at the Compassion site where she attends. She had a big test, and I didn’t know if I would get to meet her at all. Finally they went to get her on the moped. When she drove up I could no longer hold back the tears. I cried. The picture of the girl was now in front of me.

It was hard for us to talk. I gave her some things that I had brought for her including a hot pink t-shirt. She barely smiled. I didn’t know what she was thinking.

The next night as I walked through the village with our team, I felt a tap on my shoulder. There she was –  wearing the hot pink t-shirt.

Few events in life does a person think about every. single. day. literally. for months on end. Maybe tragedies or something traumatic.

But everyday this child comes to my mind. And everyday I wonder if I really make a difference.

You’ve prompted my heart to write her, and for some reason I have not been faithful. I don’t know why. I guess it’s easy to think that there’s now over 5000 miles between us and many days since we met, so what difference is one letter going to make?

Maybe it’s simple laziness or self-consumption. I don’t know.

Your voice was not enough for me, though. You knew there would need to be more to convince me that my letters do matter, and fortunately you did not let me get away with whatever the reason I didn’t write. 

So you sent my Compassion child back to me – in a picture that my friend took just a few weeks ago.

My friend was in Burkina Faso on a short-term mission trip just like the one I took back in November. As she walked through the village a girl came up to her with a picture in her hand – a picture of me. In the only way she could communicate she held up the picture to ask my friend if she knew me.

My letters do matter, after all, God. She was carrying my picture through her village. 

I am sorry for not being faithful with the gift of writing this child regularly like you told me to do so many times.

I am sorry for making it about me and my influence and for not remembering that it is not me at all. It is what you do through me.

I am sorry for not simply being an outpoured vessel to bring hope to a young girl who needs you so desperately.

God, my letters matter not because they are written from my hand, but because they are written from yours.

Thank you for the opportunity to sponsor this child. Thank you for what she has taught me about you. Please continue to bless my Compassion child by drawing her closer to you through the power of the Holy Spirit. Bless her with good health and safety, too. Protect her from the enemy.

And Lord, hear the cries of all the other children who are waiting for sponsors. Please speak to each person who reads this story and show her what you want her to do to help.

Thank you, Jesus, for my child. 

Have you ever considered sponsoring a child through Compassion? What questions do you have? If you do sponsor a child, what can you tell us about sponsorship?

Interested in sponsoring a child? Click here: Sponsor a Child