From Where Do We Speak?

Okay, so it seems like an obvious question. But we've all heard about men thinking with a specific body part instead of their mind. Well, the same thing goes for how we speak. No, not with that body part. Our heart! Are we speaking from our heart, or our hurt? Are we really speaking the words of love and encouragement that we know are bubbling from deep inside our heart? Or are we speaking words of judgement and hate oozing from our hurt?

When I started writing my latest book I included humiliating stories of abuse and lust and the confusing journey or trying to feel wanted and loved. I wrote the typical disclaimer that usually reads, 'The names and identifying characters of actual people have been changed.' Only mine said, 'Any similarities or characters in this book that resemble actual people is intentional. I want you to read about yourself on these pages and squirm just like I did living through it.' Then I had to go back and hit the delete button. That is not what I want my book to convey; humiliation and condemnation. I was speaking from my hurt.

I want the book to be from my heart. I want to help people find healing and peace in their walk through this sometimes paralyzing world. I want to tell people that God is so in love with them and if I can wear His grace, anyone can. That is my heart. But my hurts want to judge and make examples out of other peoples mistakes and miseries. Miseries that very well could have been my own. Mistakes that pale in comparison with so many I've made myself. But that's the problem with speaking from our hurts. They are usually louder than the love and forgiveness and hope in our hearts. If I speak from my wounds, my words will be bitter. If I speak from my heart, God can make them sweet.

Do you have a specific hurt (or hurts) that seem to make you say things you really don't want to? Do your words sometimes (or a lot of times) cause division when you really seek connection?

Daddy, we lift our hearts to you right now and speak restoration over the areas we desire change, but end up injuring with our words instead. Strengthen our hearts that they may speak louder than our pain. We love you so much, Lord! Thank you for helping others to see us as we are in our hearts, and not as we've spoken from our wounds. So be it.


Little Girl, Little Sword

I watched 'The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian' last night and was overwhelmed by the message it burned in my heart. (If you haven't seen the movie you might not want to read this until you do.) The scene that stole control of my emotions and left me whimpering like a puppy who just realized he ate all his food and his master will not be home for hours, was the screen shot at the end of the movie. We see young Lucy appear before an army, alone. She is standing there, in total peace, as she pulls out her tiny dagger and stands ready to fight.

My husband and I laughed because she looked so cute and pathetic just standing there with her miniature weapon. She is just a little girl with a little sword, who can't possibly take on the massive war that is raging before her. Then Aslan appeared. That was all it took. He opened his mouth and roared with a breath that devoured Lucy's enemies. End scene. But the end of the battle did not end the ache I felt lit in the depths of my heart. As I watched Lucy face an evil she knew she could not defeat, I felt as if I was watching myself. That I am merely a little girl, with nothing more than a metal nail file clutched in my palm, trying to win a fight with impossible odds. But the odds are not impossible for me. They are impossible for my enemies.

Lucy stood, then Aslan conquered. That was it. She trusted in the end result because she trusted in her protector. I see myself on a flickering screen before me and wonder if I have the courage to accept my own understanding of God. I know with him all things are possible, but am I willing to stand before evil and really know that my God will defeat it. To just stand there. To wait on God. This is what it takes to trust unconditionally. To stand in front of an army. Then God. That's it. Then God. I am alone, then God saves me. I am afraid, then God calms the waters. Then God restores my soul. Then God makes a way. Then God. Period.