Last week I asked women to write and tell us what they really want from their men. I’d anticipated your answers, made a list of things I thought you’d say, outlined what I wanted to write about. But you surprised me by both what you did and didn’t say. Every one of you included somewhere on your list, this one thing… What every woman really wants…. Spiritual Leadership

Dear sons,

I have been writing to the women in your life for a long time now.

Words about their need to find all their hope and soul-satisfaction from Jesus.  About how to then turn around and pour the love they find in Him back into you, with skill and on purpose.

I hope you’ve noticed the effort your women are making to love you well, to love you the way you want to be loved— with respect and friendliness and with an awareness of who you are.

Now it’s your turn to listen.

Because the imperfect-but-trying women in your life have needs too. And because sometimes we women talk too long and too much about things even we don’t understand.

I think we’ve made something simple sound impossible.

And I’m hoping you catch a glimpse of a way to be who your are meant to be in a way that works for you.

Three Ways To Be A Spiritual Leader:

1.  Initiate

What your women are hoping for more than anything else, is so simple it’s almost laughable. They want you to understand their need to be led. Not dominated. Not preached at. Just gently and consistently led back to centering their hearts on Jesus. They’ve grown weary from feeling like they’re always the ones to lead the way back to God.

They want you to say:

“Let’s go to church tomorrow…”

“This morning I was reading in my Bible…”

“That message really spoke to me about…”

To a woman, that is spiritual leadership. When you take the initiative, when you make the suggestion, when you say it first… something inside of her falls more deeply in love with you. A woman admires a man who alerts her to focus on God. Respect grows, not because you’re perfect, but because you recognize who is and you love her enough to point her back to Jesus.

2.  Remind

Your women are smart. They know better than to think you can meet their every need and want and expectation. They know what you sense- that they’re needy, achingly so. It is the plague of every woman. And your women know that only Jesus can fill that emptiness.

Still, we forget... every day we forget.

And that’s when a woman becomes crabby or whiny or short-tempered or demanding.

What a woman really needs from you is simply a reminder. Bring the conversation back to Jesus. Remind her that He is taking care of her. Point out His faithfulness in her past. That He will not fail her now. That He loves her more than she can possibly know.

If you do this, and you’re nice about it, you will see immediate relief. She’ll sigh. Her shoulders will relax. She’ll nod her head and look up to you and be filled with gratitude. Because she knows… and agrees… and forgot. Again.

 3.  Pray

This is the big one. The hard one. Yet the one thing every woman will recognize as the ultimate spiritual leadership. You don’t have to pray long. You don’t have to pray first thing every morning or last thing every night. All you really need to do is grab her hand when she’s worried or frightened or feeling something she shouldn’t. Just hold her close and bring her to the Father. Out loud. By doing that you are showing your wife or girlfriend that you love her enough to bring her to the One who can fix everything. Yes, you are strong, yes you can solve most things… but by leading her into the presence of the One who is fully in charge, she sees you as the ultimate loving leader. Her relief and peace of heart will be palpable.

That, my dear sons, is what spiritual leadership looks like.

You don’t have to be eloquent or perfect. No theology degree required. All you need is an awareness of Jesus and the boldness to bring the woman you love to Him.

So simple. So very hard to actually do.

But I guarantee you this- if you will do these three things:

If you will initiate and remind and pray with her… she will respond.

She can’t help it. A woman’s feelings of love and attraction are so tied to her feelings of respect that she cannot separate the two. And nothing elicits the respect of a Jesus-following woman like a man who is bold enough to grab her hand and say, with Paul,

“Follow me, as I follow Christ.”

(1Cor 11:1)

May God give you the boldness to lead her closer to Himself.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. Girls, your comments are fueling these posts. Can you tell me how your husband or boyfriend leads you spiritually?

And men, is there something we should know? Can you help us learn how to approach this often intimidating subject with grace? We're learning... all of us. To hear directly from you men would be an incredible help.

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Dear girls, As I write these words from the other side of the world, most of you are sleeping. You’ve spent the day working hard, trying hard, wishing life wasn’t so hard.

And now you’re at rest.

Except maybe those of you who are mothers of babies… or waiting up for teenagers…or those of you who woke up worried about someone and now you’re praying, please God, won’t You intervene…

Tonight and most of the day tomorrow Phil and I will be teaching parents how to be Intentional about raising this next generation to be passionate about following Jesus. We’re in Germany, invited to the Black Forest Academy  to teach teachers and parents and people who are already committed, fully-after-God servants and leaders. I am honored and humbled and more than a little in awe to be here.

Last night we had dinner with a young couple we’ve known for a long time. As we caught up on the years since we’ve seen them and talked about some decisions they’re facing and worrying through, Luke repeated one of those nuggets of wisdom that seems so simple and then echoes for a long time. He was referring to something his father said, something I believe needs to be…

Lesson #3 about worry:

You need to take yourself less seriously... and take Jesus more seriously.  

This wise dad wasn’t suggesting their decisions didn’t matter. He wasn’t saying don’t plan. He didn’t even mean to minimize the pressures. He was simply taking a hard-earned, long view of life and trying to help his son see the big picture— the one where Jesus obscures all those worries.

And I wonder if those words might be for you today. And for me.

Because they sound a lot like these…

“So, I tell you, don’t worry about everyday life— whether you have enough food, drink, and clothes. Doesn’t life consist of more than food and clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t need to plant or harvest or put food in barns because your heavenly Father feeds them. And you are far more valuable to him than they are. Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?

And why worry about your clothes? Look at the lilies and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and gone tomorrow, won’t he more surely care for you? You have so little faith!

So don’t worry about having enough food or drink or clothing. Why be like the pagans who are so deeply concerned about these things?

Your heavenly Father already knows all your needs and he will give you all you need from day to day if you live for him and make the Kingdom of God your primary concern.

So don’t worry about tomorrow…

~Jesus

(in Matthew 6:25-34)

What more can I say?

From my heart,

Diane

“I sought him who my soul loves…”

Song of Songs 3:1

Dear girls,

For many months now I have been writing with two purposes:

#1 To remind you that only Jesus can fully satisfy all those cravings and wantings inside of you. And that no man has the capacity to meet your every need. That until we find our hopes and longings for love met in an intimate relationship with the Savior, we are unable to fully give ourselves to the men in our lives.

#2 To teach you what I am learning about how to love a man well. We’ve talked long about responding with sexual freedom in the marriage bed, about respect, about tenderness and loyalty. All sorts of ways to be the lover and friend your man wants and needs.

Now it’s time we started talking about your own hopes and dreams.

• What you wish for in a relationship.
• How you wish he would treat you.
• What kind of man you want to spend the rest of your life with.
• What hurts you
• What you wish he knew.
• How you would respond if only…

But I’ll need your help with this one. Because I’m hoping to write in a way that men will want to read. And I’m hoping that you will pass these letters on to the men in your life; that you will tweet and text and Facebook and hint… And that I will be able to speak as an older woman into the hearts of your men, setting in simple terms the truths about what a woman really wants.

Here’s what I need from you:

Realistic, bottom-line lists and descriptions of what you really want.

Can you condense all those yearnings, all your ideals and dreams into short form? Feel free to make up a name or call yourself Anonymous. But be honest. Think about this. If your husband or boyfriend dared ask “What do you want from me?” What would you say?

Because, my dear girls, there are men who are really asking. Good men, godly men, imperfect-but-growing men, who want to know what it is you want, but are so confused by the mixed messages they’ve been getting for so long that they honestly don’t know.

I think it’s time we let them into our hearts and hopes.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. If leaving a comment seems too intimidating, you can email me at hespeaks@ajesuschurch.org. I’ll be collecting all your thoughts as I write.

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"Prayer is not monologue, but dialogue; God's voice is its most essential part. Listening to God's voice is the secret of the assurance that He will listen to mine."

Dear girls,

It’s time I let you in on a secret I’ve kept close to my heart for a long while. As open as I try to be on these pages, there is a part of me that cringes at revealing too much.

What will you think? What if I fail? 

But I have learned to trust your hearts.

You are gracious women who know about failure and yet have the courage to dream. You are women who risk, women who know their limits and choose to reach further.

So here’s my secret: I am writing a book. Or at least trying to write a book.

This has been my dream for so long I’d almost stopped trying to make it a reality. Until I got an email from a literary agent who told me his wife read my blog. Low and behold, he thought I might want to write a book. And more, he’d help me learn how.

That was well over a year ago. Since that time, Bill has become a friend to Phil and I, encouraging, pushing, patiently enduring my foot dragging perfectionism and overloaded schedule. With his help I’ve finally finished my proposal, all 50+ pages of it.

Next week he’s sending it out to real live editors. People who will flip through the pages I laboriously wrote and rewrote and agonized over. People who will make a choice to either throw it away or take it to the next step.

And I tell you because I just cannot wait alone. This does not feel like waiting for Christmas… more like that long, drawn out, stomach-clenching wait for the results from Final’s Week.

“Don’t take it personally”, my husband warns. But that, as every woman well knows, is not possible. For a woman, for me, everything is personal!

And I probably shouldn’t tell you because now you’ll ask… Have you heard yet? And I’ll pretend it doesn’t matter. Shrug my shoulders and act all cool and nonchalant. When inside I’ll be hoping every day that someone will want my story.

But you’re my girls, my friends, the ones who listen to my stories and tell me your own. The ones who give courage and take courage and delight together in the Father who cares.

My book is simply my story. In it I give all the details and events that led up to my diagnosis of deafness, then the miraculously beautiful rescue I didn’t deserve. In it, I try to let you see who I really am— how I felt, what I feared, why I fell, what brought me back. I’ve written details even my own daughters don’t know, dredging up memories I’d tried to push aside in order to capture the lessons learned the hard way.

My goal in writing this book is to help you and other’s like you. Because I have this crazy sense that you want intimacy with God as much as I did and do. And that you want to hear Him. That you don’t want to miss those messages He has for you everyday. That you want to know what He is saying and why. And that, like me, you have am insatiable appetite for more, something that no one but the Father can ever begin to satisfy.

So now you know. My secret’s out. I’ve dared to tell you about my dream even before it’s become a reality.

Will you pray? For me as I wait with heart in hand… for each of those editors are who will find a file in their email and decide… for Bill (my friend and agent) who will do his magic…

I promise to let you know because I love you, girls.

From my heart,

Diane

We lingered at the café, my friend and I, talking about how her life had fallen apart with her marriage and how she was learning, slowly, to trust God again. It hadn’t been easy.  After all the rejection and shame and horrors of her husband’s unfaithfulness, to believe that God cared seemed a stretch. After all, hadn’t she prayed and obeyed and done everything she could to get it right?

And hadn’t God failed to do His part? 

Nothing had worked out. Not the marriage, not the man, not the vice grip of addiction to sin that had strangled the life out of the once well-intentioned husband.

Who could blame her for worrying now? For hesitating to trust a God who hadn’t done what she’d been so sure He could and would and certainly should.

And that, my dear girls, is at the heart of all our worry.

That underlying knowing that God does not always do our bidding. That the platitudes aren’t true. That everything does not work out. That sometimes awful stuff happens and people don’t get healed and marriages do fall apart and we can’t do a thing to stop it.

In honest moments we wonder… 

How are we supposed to trust God with the truth?

You’ve heard the platitudes too, maybe spilled them on a hurting friend, that if we’ll…

only trust… let go and God let God… drum up enough belief… then God promises to work it all out for us.

A happy ending. Amen.

But life doesn’t work that way and neither does God.

Ask Paul. And Peter and John and James… their stories tell of a different kind of worry-free faith. Before pop-theology painted a gaudy façade over the truth. 

Every one of those men discovered a secret. Paul dubbed it The Secret.

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.

I know what it is to be in need,

and I know what it is to have plenty.

I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation,

whether well fed or hungry,

whether living in plenty or in want.

I can do all this through him who gives me strength. 

Philippians 4:11-13 

Lesson #2 about Worry:

It’s not what I do that matters, it’s what Jesus has already done.

Here’s what I mean:

On that day a month or so ago when I melted down in a grand display of run-a-muk anxiety, at it’s root was worry.

• Worry that I would fail
• Worry that I wasn’t organized enough or good enough or able enough to do what I expected myself to do.
• Worry that others would think less of me

But I’d forgotten something vital. I’d forgotten The Secret.

That whether I do right or do wrong…

Whether I am a shining example of organizational skills and stellar hard work, or a pathetic failure at anything admirable…

I am not the point.

My perfect performance is not the point. Whether my family is perfect or my job stellar or my bank balance growing, is not the point.

Because Jesus took me in all my inadequacy and placed me in His beauty. Its not about me anymore, its about Jesus. I, in all my brokenness, am hidden in Him, all tucked into His perfection.

As long as I remember that, my own less-than-perfect performance won’t destroy me.

And as long as I remember that, I don’t have to demand that God work everything out all hunky dory the way I wish it would be. 

And that, my dear friends is the reason Paul and Peter and James and John and all those others whose stories weren’t perfect could be content and at rest and filled with peace and joy and hope in the midst of the messiness of real life.

But see that lovely word again, dear friends, Paul learned.

And that’s what you’re doing.

Learning.

Slowly but surely you and I are learning the how-to’s of being women at rest in Him. We are learning the Secret.

From my heart,

Diane

I am loved…

fully and thoroughly loved every day of my life.

I am noticed…

recognized and relished.

I am seen…

taken in and embraced for who I am.

I am known…

deep down, where secrets hide and dreams are born.

I am cherished…

delighted in, cared for, valued.

I am watched over…

everyday, every hour, when I’m aware and when I’m not.

I am guided…

through each precarious step and along every joyous path.

I am lavished…

with gifts strewn in my way, brightening my days, surprising and specific, just for me.

But some days I forget about that love. I ignore my Lover. I turn my back to Him and try to find all that love from others… who do not and cannot and never will love me like He does.

Those are the days that fall apart. When I start to strive and stress and get uptight and hurt and mean and sad.

On those forgetting days I am not who I really am. I lose that knowing. My heart turns cold to the One who loves, demanding instead that love from those He wants to lavish with his love by way of me.

My life loses beauty.

And somewhere off in the distance I hear a whisper. A faint caress, like the slightest breeze on a sweltering summer day.

I remember. I turn. I hold out my heart to the One who loves, needing Him, wanting Him, craving what I forgot.

And all His love comes rushing back, filling me, freeing me, embracing and knowing and cherishing and delighting and seeing and …

Loving… me.

My dear girls,

I woke up this morning after a fitful night’s sleep, to face a full day. Stresses… people… complications… conflicts… life.

I got up burdened by it all. Ready to write my lists, to somehow organize and strategize my way through the maze of needs and obligations and… then I remembered.

I am not the Grand Ayatollah of Need Meeting.

I am Diane. Made on purpose by the One who loves… me.

So loved that I am filled to overflowing, bursting with the joy of it.

I spill that love on all those others, all those people and complications and conflicts and life… because He first loved me.

Not because I should or I ought to, or because someone expects it of me, or because I am afraid that if I don’t I might get rejected and be alone.

And that, my dear girls, is what I’ve been trying to say through this whole He’s Not Your Prince Charming series. That loving your husband is not about you being perfect or him satisfying you.

We love because He first loved us.

And His loving us satisfies us.

So we in turn love those men in our lives… who may or may not respond the way we wish… but that’s okay because we’re so loved that we don’t need… don’t demand… don’t live on the love of a man.

We live on the love of God.

And somehow that makes all the difference, doesn’t it?

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. Are you, like me, waking up to His incredible love? Can you tell us how? What that looks like and sounds like in the midst of real life? Has He surprised you somehow? I’d love to hear your story because… well because we all love a good love story.

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If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small. Proverbs 24:10 KJV

If you falter in a time of trouble, how small is your strength!

Proverbs 24:10 NLT

Dear girls,

Just a couple of weeks ago when the pressures of packing and sorting and moving collided with news of my father’s failing health, I faltered… fainted… imploded in a great revealing of the smallness of my own strength.

And ever since that day I’ve been afraid of doing it again.

The chest tightens up.

Heart speeds up.

Worries well up.

Un-oh.

And some of you know exactly what I’m talking about:  fear of fear.

Once unreasonable fear has wrapped you in its grip and pulled you under to a place of panic, you will forever fear the fear.

The fear itself becomes more frightening than whatever it was that scared you.

And it leaves you weak. Small of strength. Faltering. Fainting.

Just the woman, just the way, I do not want to be.

And so I have set out on a quest for wisdom from the Wise One who promises wisdom if we’ll only ask. (James 1:5) Every morning I’ve been up early, asking for Him to show me the way out this chest tightening anxiety that is so fearsome, so weakening, so… not what I want.

I’m filling my journal with scribbles and stories of His words to me about the how and why and when and what-to-do when I worry too much.

It’s time I pass some of those lessons on to you. Because you worry too. Too much. Too often. And you’re being weakened by the worry.

Here, my girls, is

Lesson #1 About Worry: 

Anxiety starts with that first socially permissible step called fretfulness.

Intense anxiety is not, as some would lead us to believe, purely biological in basis.[1] No one falls into a full-blown anxiety attack out of nowhere.

And anxiety is not some sort of guerilla tactic of the Evil One that hits us out of the blue. Instead, the enemy of our souls sneaks in to exploit our weaknesses, hoping to render us ineffective and weak.

Though the dark spiritual and the physical may need to be examined, that is not where anxiety starts.

Anxiety starts with fretting— those socially permissible comments we toss out in conversation.

What if…

I’m worried about…

I’m afraid that…

And instead of taking those first alerting signals to the Father we try them out on other people. What’s been silently brewing inside comes bubbling up and we hand the words to those who care about us, hoping they’ll make it go away.

They, in turn, often dismiss our worries and say something inane like, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

Which makes us go underground again. Only now that we’ve put all those jumbled thoughts into words we know what we’re worried about.

So we pray about it. After all, we’re told to pray about everything, right?

Well, sort of. But I’ve learned that there is praying… and there is praying. 

How many hours have I fussed at God in the name of prayer? Gone on long rambling prayer walks where I worried out loud at Him the whole way. Telling Him what to do, how to go about doing it, when He needs to get on it.

That, my dear girls, is not praying. It is spiritual fretfulness. Just the kind of thing that shuts out His voice and shuts in the worry.

Do not fret. It leads only to evil doing.

Psalm 37:8 NASB

Fretting, we are warned, leads not to solutions, but to doings. Evil doings. Bad stuff.

The frightening, weakening, embarrassing episode of intense fear I experienced a couple of weeks ago did not start with whatever it was that tipped me over the edge.

I began that walk to the edge of the cliff with a slow meander onto the pleasant path of acceptable fretting.

And that is right where I must stop the worry if I’m going to be free of it. Fretting cannot be tolerated. Like an alcoholic who dare not take a sip, I’ve been warned now about where worry leads.

It is time for me to take that slightest tightening of my chest and turn it into a question for my Father.

“Why am I worried Abba?”

To talk to Him. To listen. To confess that… I am afraid and short on trust and taking on too much and wishing I hadn’t and what’s wrong with me?

And then to let Him do His redeeming thing on me, in me, through me, to me.

It’s just a small lesson, I know. But it’s a start. A realization that I am weak. That worry has weakened me. That it starts with fretting. That apart from Him I’m a mess.

That He loves this mess that is me enough to get to root of it so He can get rid of what weakens me.

Isn’t that just amazing grace?

From my heart,

Diane

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[1] That said, a check up is wise when experiencing the physical symptoms of anxiety. All it takes is a few out of order hormones or a broken down thyroid to slip some people over the edge from ordinary worry to panic attacks.

Dear Girls, Years and decades and eras ago when Phil and I were dating I was convinced he would be a terrific dad.

After all, I reasoned, he loved to play with kids. Wrestling and teasing and throwing his nephews in the air, Phil seemed, in my vast experience, to have all the makings of a wonderful father.

And even though my criteria were laughably shallow, I was right. Phil has been a terrific dad to our four children.

Just a couple of days ago he got a text from Matt, asking for help and guidance about ministry he was being called to do. What to say, how to study, the best way to approach the opportunity.

I watched as Phil once again took an opportunity to disciple his son.

To raise up the next generation to teach and think and lead. 

And I watched as my son listened and learned and prepared to take the baton from his father and run his own leg of the race.

I watch as my oldest son, John Mark, leads his own sons and daughter. How he, who is so different in so many ways from his dad, is at the same time, so like his father.

I watch John Mark encourage and discipline and disciple his children— and then how he throws them in the air for a raucous wrestling match. Just like his dad.

And girls, I want the same for each of you. Because if you marry a man who understands his essential role of imitating the Father as a father, you and your children and your children’s children will be blessed beyond belief.

Trust me, I know. I live the results everyday.

That is why I want to invite you to attend a seminar Phil and I are teaching on November 8^th and 9th. It’s called Intentional: Raising Passionate Jesus Followers.

This seminar is a culmination of a dream that started while Phil was in seminary and our first born was just a few months old. Over 3 decades ago! We knew we didn’t know what we were doing and so we began an intensive study. Gathering wisdom, delving into the Scriptures, asking questions, questioning the answers.

Now we have gathered what we learned and crammed it into six teaching sessions. We’ll tell our stories, explain the Biblical basis of the why’s and how’s, tell you what we did right and a whole lot of things we wish we’d done differently.

And here’s the real reason to come girls: When I saw, just a few days ago, Phil bent over his big, worn Bible pointing out to my son the truths that applied to his questions, I fell in love with the man all over again.

A great big swelling of I can’t believe I get to be married to this man kind of response.

And I want that for you.

Every one of you. Because in ways I do not fully understand, a woman’s feelings of love are all wrapped up in respect. I feel love for Phil because I honestly, really do respect the man. A lot.

Yes, he’s a good man. And yes, he’s good to me. But the real reason I respect him is because of the way he leads his family on a firm Biblical basis to follow Jesus with wisdom and passion.

If you’re married, bring your man. Please. This is not a seminar simply for mothers. It is a chance for men to see what spiritual leadership looks like and sounds like and is in everyday life.

If you’re not married, bring yourself. This is a chance for you to get a whiff of what you really want. For you to see what spiritual leaderships looks like and sounds like and is in every day life.

And it’s a lot more than wrestling with the kids…

From my heart,

Diane

PS: sign up by going to the website www.intentionalparents.org. And let me know if you’re coming!

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Dear girls,

Sometimes God gives us a task that is just too big for us. It starts, most often, as an idea. A spark.

Wouldn’t it be amazing if…

And somehow that tiny spark starts to light us up. We glow when we think about it. The idea warms us. We find ourselves wanting to flame it into something tangible and real.

We dream.

Someday I’d like to…

As the dream grows and takes shape we who walk and talk with, and listen to Jesus are in constant conversation with Him about this idea. He is, we believe, the One who sparked the vision in the first place.

Lord, is this from You? Might it be Your prompting? Are You behind this dream?

That’s when we let others take a peek. Tentatively, protectively, we share the dream. Or part of the dream. At least the part that doesn’t involve us.

Somebody really ought to…

We hope our closest people will jump up and down and tell us they’re with us. That they’ll point out that we’re capable. That they’ll give us the courage to go for it.

You were made for this moment… I can see it….

That rarely happens.

Usually, people who love us caution us.

What if? You know that time you? Be careful? Have you thought of?

And the dream falters. Those doubts and fears and insecurities we’ve ignored like buzzing flies land on our skin and burrow deep.

Or for some, stubbornness sets in. We set our jaw and feel sorry for ourselves and resent the ones who love us enough to tell us not to try that thing they don’t dream about and wonder why we do.

Why doesn’t she understand? Why does he always have to throw cold water on my ideas?

And sometimes we just let the dream die right then and there. It was ours for a moment but now its not. We go on with what we’re supposed to do but the spark is gone from the day-to-day. The burdens we carry seem a little more burdensome. The boring must-do’s a little more wearying.

The next time that sparks tries to ignite way back wherever it is that dreams are born, we snuff it out. Immediately. No use dreaming. That’s for other people, not for ordinary, less-than-amazing people like us.

Our dreams, we’ve been told, are selfish.

What about the kids? The house? The future?

And as we grow older, that daring, adventurous, BIG part of our soul just shrivels up and dies. We’re not heroes-in-the-making anymore.

We drudge. We crank. We grumble.

And that, my dear girls, is what happens when we squelch the dreams of those we love.

When we caution our man about all the things that could go wrong…

When we insist we know it’s not for him or for us or for our future together…

When we point out the obvious— that nobody dreams that big except the somebodies.

And we don’t let him be a somebody because… well, I don’t really know why.

When my wants clash with his dreams and I get squeamish maybe its just because I’m afraid. And maybe instead of trying to talk him out of it I should just trust him.

Or maybe not. Maybe I can’t trust him because I think he’s selfish and foolish and just wrong. Maybe that idea is just no good. Or no good for me. Or for the children we have or might have someday.

But what if we decided to trust God?

To say Yes.

To dare to let him dream and maybe even fail.

And then be there to tell him he’s not a failure, but a man brave enough to dream and you love that about him.

And then to pick up the pieces and let him dream again because you really do.

You respect a man who dreams and does because dreaming and then doing that dream is heroic.

And rare.

And worthy.

Girls, I think it’s time we dare to let our men dream.

It’s time to let him know we’ve got his back even when we’re scared. That it’s okay if it doesn’t work out because we’ll still be there to let him dream again.

I think it’s time that we realize that He’s Not Your Prince Charming but he is a man with a need to dream. And if we’re the ones to squelch the dream he’ll never get to be that knight in shining armor he needs to be.

And if you think so too, I’d urge you to read Sarah’s story. It’s found in Genesis, chapter 12. Her husband had a dream and she chose to follow it with him through all the messes he made in the process. She risked, she endured, she laughed and she cried and she lost and she gained.

And she learned to trust God even when her husband failed.

I think it’s time we choose to be like Sarah. 

From my heart,

Diane

PS: Sarah made some not-so-nice mistakes in the process of trying and so do we. But we can give each other courage by telling our stories- both good and bad. Would you tell us yours?

(source)

The Lord is like a father to His children,

tender and compassionate to those who fear Him.

For He knows how weak we are;

He remembers we are only dust.

Psalm 103:13-14

Last week I fell apart.

As in out-of-breath, wild brokenness. Really bad.

I’d slept restlessly, awakened drenched with fear, right at the climax of a terrible nightmare. As I padded downstairs to brew a pot of tea, my anxiety level increased with every step. Everywhere I looked was disorder. Moving boxes half filled, papers and undone tasks crowding every visual space. By the time my tea was ready, I’d made a list long enough to keep every moment filled for a month and lashed myself a dozen times for being so disorganized.

I read my Bible while sipping the steaming tea, keeping that list beside me. Every couple of minutes I’d stop reading and jot down another to-do for my list. Then I’d pause and scold myself for almost forgetting.  My chest tightened incrementally by the minute.

I got to work, fast and furious.

I’d get it done today. 

I had to! I ought to! I’d better!

After a couple of hours of furious packing and continued scolding at myself for my inability to concentrate and stay on task, Phil came home. He’d been up early for a prayer meeting at church. He was tired. He was hungry. He was not happy. (Enough said.)

Something he said… or the way he said it… or… something unloosed my tenuous grip on sanity and I started to cry. Really cry— hard.

I just fell apart.

Great heaving sobs racked my exhausted body. Gulping for air, I started to panic. And then I started to hyperventilate. Couldn’t think. Didn’t know how to stop.

Did I mention that I fell apart?

And I almost didn’t tell you because it’s embarrassing. Horrible. Not-supposed-to-happen to a woman who writes about cleaving close to Jesus and relationships and wisdom from God’s Word.

But I just have to tell you because the very next morning, the One I keep telling you about, the One I love and worship and listen to… spoke to me. And what He said took my breath away again. In a good way.

Once again I sat surrounded by boxes, though my daughter, Elizabeth had done a commendable job the day before of helping me to get my scrambled, disordered mind back in sync. Boxes for storage in one room, boxes going to the garage of the fixer-upper in another. Boxes for the temporary place off to the side.

Tea steaming, Bible open on my lap, I asked the Father to teach me what I’d done wrong. Why I’d humiliated myself with my meltdown.

Shame filled me. Remorse. More scolding.

And that’s when my eyes fell on these words from Proverbs 9:6…

Learn to be wise.

Oh… learn.

 I am learning.

Ah, relief. Freedom from condemnation.

And if you are like me, making multiple foolish mistakes that lead to falling apart and melting down and breaking into itsy bitsy pieces of shattered truth… you know what I mean by relief. Instead of scolding me for all those mistakes and summing me up as one big failure, He reminded me that I am learning.

Learning to be wise. Learning to live well. Learning to think right and be right and do right… but mostly, I am just learning to love Him. Because…

He loves me— the mess that I am.

And He loves me enough to speak to me. To speak words that bring hope and help exactly when I need hope and help. 

And so I’m letting myself be embarrassed by letting you know about something that embarrasses me. Because, face it, it’s embarrassing to be broken. To act unwisely. To fall apart.

But the truth is, I’m a little wiser today because I’m learning to love Jesus and to know my brokenness.  And I’m learning to recognize the Spirit’s signals that sin is crouching around the corner, ready to overwhelm my still-learning soul.

And so are you. 

That’s the beauty of being part of Him together.

From my broken, but learning heart,

Diane

PS: Are you learning something about being wise? Learning to love Jesus more and more because He loves you even in your messiness? Can you tell us? Your stories help give us all hope.

Dear girls, I sit by the side of the sea as I write these words this morning. Right outside my window stretches miles and miles of empty Oregon coast. Wild and inviting, desolate and breathtakingly beautiful.

I’m here with five friends. Women who’ve adopted me as sisters, taken me into their hearts and allowed me to be who I am without apology.

A rare gift— beauty inside and beauty out.

But before I go off and play for the day, I have a few more words about forgiveness that just won’t leave me alone. Words I’ve needed time and time again.

Words I need today.

Words I’ll need tomorrow too.

The words rolled off the pen of Paul as he paced his dank and lonely prison cell far from home. He’d been wronged— betrayed, wounded, deceived. Yet there he sat, using his last hours to scribble down every bit of wisdom that came to his heart for a group of people he loved.

Dear friends,

Never avenge yourselves. Leave that to God.

For it is written, 

“I will take vengeance; I will repay those who deserve it, says the LORD.” 

Instead, do what the Scriptures say:

“If your enemies are hungry, feed them.

If they are thirsty, give them something to drink,

And they will be ashamed of what they have done to you.”

Don’t let evil get the best of you ,but conquer evil by doing good.

Romans 12:17-21

And as I sit by the window overlooking the great heaving ocean, once again I remember my own need to forgive.

Again.

Because just yesterday an old wound got bumped and it still hurts a little today. And I find myself all grumbly and resentful and entitled and crotchety.

Again.

Here I am, ready for a day of delightful play with the best friends I’ve ever had in one of the most beautiful spots in the world… remembering and resenting.

And just as I was confessing this to the Father, I glanced outside. My eyes landed on something bobbing in the waves. I leaned forward to look. What is that?

My breath caught— a body? It was just about the right length… I leaned closer, watching. Oh! Just a log caught in the current… phew!

And that, my dear girls, is right when I heard His voice speaking just what I needed. Reminding me of a time long ago when I sat across from my mentor, Muriel Cook, and she told me a story. A story I want to pass on to you in the hopes that you will remember when the resentment keeps coming back to steal away your joy.

Forgiveness, Muriel explained to me, is like one of those huge driftwood logs that lie on the sands of the Oregon coast. You’ve done the hard work of forgiving, you’ve given it all over to God, and you’re resting just fine.

Then comes a wild Pacific storm. Or sometimes it’s just a high tide. And the currents catch hold of that load of driftwood log and pull it back into the sea. It floats and rolls (and looks eerily like a dead body to a woman with too much imagination for her own good). 

And you feel like you haven’t really forgiven so well after all.

Isn’t that just how I feel this morning? Like maybe I haven’t forgiven, not really. Like I’m being tossed around again.

But then Muriel, in her ever-practical wisdom told me more.

You’ve just got to go out there and push that log back out to sea. And if it insists on rolling back in again, push it harder. Push it again. And again.

Because eventually, if you’ll just keep at it, that log will catch a current and be carried so far out to sea that you’ll never see it again. It will disappear into the vast ocean and you’ll barely remember what worried you so much for so long.

And you know what, girls, it works!

Whether the offense is one of those petty pinches that stings more than anything else, or a really big one that bruises and beats up your soul. If you push hard enough and long enough, it will eventually leave you alone.

The vast sea of God’s grace will just swallow it up so it cannot hurt you ever again.

And so here I sit, pushing my invisible log back out. Relieved to be rid of it. Again. Remembering what to do if it drifts back. Again.

And ready to spend the rest of the day free to embrace the beauty of this place and these people I love.

From my heart,

Diane

PS: Have you been confused by something you’d thought you’d forgiven but still feel resentment over? Can you tell us how you finally escaped it’s hold? Have you found a way to let go? Your stories are such an encouragement to all of us who want this way of the Cross.

(source)

We’re moving in a week. After 11 years in this big suburban house, we’re downsizing to what will eventually be a cozy cottage.

Drastically downsizing.

And as I’ve emptied storage areas and my closet, sold off furniture and knickknacks, sifted through a hodge-podge of accumulations, I’ve been learning significant and not-so-nice things about myself.

Take, for instance, the box of memories I’ve saved from Matthew’s childhood. Actually, take the multiple boxes of memories. Plastic baseball trophies (for participation! Whoopee!), two worn out teddy bears, the grungy purple cast he wore when he broke his leg- 20 years ago. Geez.

Did I think he would thank me someday? Ah Mom, how sweet, you saved this stinky cast…

Or was I just too lazy to decide?

Or the tea cups. I collected those way back when, using them for wedding showers and tea parties. And even though they’ve sat, unused, in a drawer for all the eleven years we’ve been here, it was hard to set them out for the garage sale. But there they sat, all morning long. No one even glanced at them. I couldn’t give them away!

My dear, diplomatic daughter, Elizabeth summed it up succinctly:

Creepy.

I’ve excused myself for all this saving. I’m nostalgic. These things remind me of people in my life— my children, my mom, old friends.

But here’s what I’m learning, girls…

When we hang on to stuff from the past, we’re impeded from embracing the future.

I think Jesus had something to say about that.

“And no one puts new wine into old wineskins. For the old skins would burst from the pressure, spilling the wine and ruining the skins. New wine is stored in new wineskins so that both are preserved.”

Matthew 9:17

Did you catch that phrase telling us why we’ve got to let go of what we once loved but doesn’t really work so well anymore?

… for the old skins would burst from the pressure…

Whether its tea cups or teddy bears…

or the role we once played in our family…

or the way we once did church…

or the relationship that is so very comfortable but is holding us back from fully following Jesus’ call on our life…

Some stuff has to go, or I’ll never be free to soar.

And so I am sorting. Making hard decisions. Asking myself uncomfortable questions.

Why would I keep this? Is it useful? Do I need it? Am I sure?

And then I’m probing deeper.

Will this crowd up and clutter my new little house? Will storing this cost me more money than it’s worth? Is it worth the aching backs to move it again?

All questions we need to be asking ourselves about how we live our lives.

1. Are we cluttering up our lives with relationships and roles and obligations that no longer work?
2. What would letting go free me to do that I am unable to do now?
3. Have I filled my life with so many responsibilities that I am still not getting to what matters most?
4. Am I so busy with good things that I’ve no time for the best?
5. Am I sure this is what I am supposed to be doing?

Maybe you’re like me. You’ve gotten so busy that you’ve not had the time or the energy to free up space to dream.

Maybe we all should ponder Jesus’ words about the importance of letting go.

The context, by the way, has to do with a good thing. A disciple of John the Baptist was put off by the fact that the disciples of Jesus didn’t seem spiritual enough. Unlike other devoted followers of Yahweh, they didn’t fast.

That made them suspect. Less-than-committed. What he’d failed to see was the original intent of fasting and the current purpose assigned to Jesus’ disciples.

Sound familiar?

And so, I’m back to packing and sorting and yet another trip to Goodwill. Getting rid of good things so I have room to create something new.

Even tossing the tea cups.

From my heart,

Diane

And you? Do you have a vision for something new? Might you ponder Jesus’ words and how His wisdom relates to your habits?

Please tell us about it! This is scary stuff, this letting go.

Dear girls, When my youngest son, Matt was just a little boy, he’d wake up every morning asking, “Where is everybody?” With three older siblings, he couldn’t get his head around a day of not knowing exactly what each person in his family was up to and why they weren’t all right there, one big bunch of playmates.

By the time he was four and speaking in that adorable way of precocious toddlers, he’d assigned himself the role of Keeper of the Peace in our family of less-than-peace-loving teenagers. Matt spent his mornings riding along in the carpool van, negotiating treaties of niceness between sleep deprived, hormonal sisters and a dominating, driven older brother. He just couldn’t understand what all those frowning faces were about.

As little Matt-man refereed in the backseat, he’d use this one phrase to punctuate his point:

“DOANABEMEAN!”

Which, translated into real talk means, Don’t be mean!

Matt’s injunction worked like magic. Everyone would stop arguing and start laughing uproariously. How can anyone quibble in the face of such fierce cuteness? And Matt was just confident enough to believe that it was his command that had wrought instant peace. He’d grin and laugh and delight in his power to unite his squabbling siblings.

And so, my dear girls, as you go about your day encountering difficult husbands/boyfriends/brothers/friends I’d like to admonish you,

DOANABEMEAN!

Instead, cultivate a spirit of friendliness. Be nice. Refuse to get caught up in being right. Manage conflict with grace and kindness. Stop poking. Do good to the man in your life, whether you’re 15 or 55.

In Titus, chapter two, older women (that’s me!) are admonished to, “urge the younger women to love their husbands…” Seems kind of benign, doesn’t it? Of course women are to love their husbands. But dig just a tad deeper. The nuanced meaning of the word translated love here is “friendly” (phileo in Greek). God is moving Paul’s pen to write to the young pastor, Titus, to tell the women to…

Be friendly to your husbands.

And girls, after more than 35 years of doing ministry alongside my pastor-husband, of watching marriages fail and families fall apart, I’d like to give everyone of you the same word of advice:

Be friendly to your husbands!

How hard can that be?

Well, harder than it sounds because the number one complaint I hear from husbands and sons and older brothers and trying-but-not-happy boyfriends is this: women are mean.

And here’s the funny thing, (I warned you this would be a rambling sort of conversation) the number one reason according to Dr. Emmerson Eggerichs, a leading authority on marriage, that men give as to why they chose their particular wife is this:

Because she likes me.

Yep, profound isn’t it?

A man marries a woman, first and foremost, because she likes him.

Not because he likes her (though obviously that’s in there too), not because she’s sexy and alluring (though obviously that’s high on the list), not because she’s all the things he thinks she is… but because something inside of him recognizes this thing he longs for: to be liked.  Really, genuinely, consistently, always liked.

So, what does that look like outside of statistics and psychological studies? How does a woman be friendly in real life? I'll give you my take on what that looks like, then I'm hoping you'll give us yours...

How To “Like” A Man:

1. Be affectionate- Rub his shoulders, scratch his back, touch him when you’re talking. Greet him with a hug when he comes in the door. Say good-bye with a kiss. Or, if he’s wired so tight that touch translates as annoying, use words. Those fond words of affection every man craves. Whatever you do, make sure the affection is about him, not about you.
2. Be sexually inviting- Once you are married, sexual invitation means “I like you” to a man. Of course it does! They know instinctively that we don’t want them when we’re mad or irritated or annoyed. Our very wanting is a relief to a man’s inward worry that we don’t like them.
3. Be fun- Be his best companion. Laugh at his attempts to add a twist of humor to your conversation. Watch ESPN next to him.  Be enthusiastic. Vacation the way he likes- save your shopping and museum wandering for another day (I'm talking to myself here!). Agree. Be agreeable. Say yes. Recognize his need to play. Join him. Or go along and watch with all the enthusiasm of a fan.
4. Flirt a little- Flirt a lot. Flirt until you're old and wrinkled and grey. Flirt with only him.
5. Be nice- Say nice things, do nice things. Rearrange that perpetual mama-scowl into a welcoming softness. Don’t roll your eyes or make those “humpfing” sounds of disapproval. Assume innocence.
6. Talk nice- Tell him how much you like him and why. Tell him you admire him and then leave the room. When he follows you out like a puppy dog, leave him a list that sounds heroic. Mean it.

Girls, I’m just getting started. This is how we “phileo” our husbands. (No, that’s not “fillet”!)

There is no better way to love your man than to like him. Our men are hurting for lack of liking.

And for those of you not yet married, every man in your life needs, wants, craves this kind of liking. A woman who is good at liking will never lack great men friends and boyfriends and offers… just sayin’.

I love you, girls…

From my heart,

Diane

PS: Okay, let’s add to my list. Can you give us ways to communicate “like” to the men in our lives?

And if a man or two or more is reading this, would you contribute? Go ahead and use Mr. Anonymous as your name if you want. We women need to understand this better.

Then I realized that my heart was bitter,

and I was all torn up inside. 

…Yet I still belong to You; You hold my right hand. 

You guide me with Your counsel,

leading me to a glorious destiny.

…I desire You more than anything on earth.

My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak,

but God remains the strength of my heart;

He is mine forever.

…How good it is to be near God!

I have made the Sovereign Lord my shelter,

and I will tell everyone about the wonderful things You do.

Psalm 73:21-28

 NLT

Dear girls,

Bitterness.

Even the word makes me shudder. A bitter woman is pinched and dry and frazzled. Pursed lips, tensed shoulders, dull eyes. She is defeated and defeating.

Picture Cruelle D’Ville.  The Wicked Witch of the West. Cinderella’s step-sisters.

Were they just born that way? Negative and critical and waiting to pounce?

Or did someone hurt them deeply, slashing and wounding and burning up all the womanly gentleness God included in their original design?

Or maybe she did it to herself. Maybe a bitter woman makes choices about how she will handle the wounds that every living, breathing woman receives from real life. Not realizing where it’s leading, she harbors resentment, wrapping herself in prickliness to protect herself from being hurt again- ever.

We waddle around like porcupines and then wonder why nobody loves us.

And maybe we all do that— at least a little— for sure in marriage. We respond to those bumps and bruises with self-protective push back: You hurt me, I hurt you back.

Before we know it, bitterness sets in, blinding us to our own meanness. We end up edgy, just a little bit harsh, impatient with the once-again lapses our husbands (or children, or roommates, or coworkers) are prone to.

I do not want to be like that— and you don’t either. Yet just writing those words hints at my own intimate familiarity with the symptoms of a bitter, unforgiving, self-protective spirit. I know what I’m talking about here and so do you.

And here’s what I’ve seen in my own life:

When I’m holding onto resentment against anybody, I take it out on those closest to me. 

My husband, my children, even my dog! One small mistake and off I go, intolerant and ungraceful, fully justifying that nasty edge to my voice while fiercely defending my self-righteous position.

The answer to what ails us is all too obvious. The hard part is the doing. And maybe the recognizing that it needs doing… the cure for bitterness is forgiveness.

And sometimes that’s hard for us to swallow. Because we think that if that person would only stop hurting us, stop disappointing us, start doing right and well and good and what we want and need… then I won’t be bitter anymore.

Only it doesn’t work that way.

Ever.

Because bitterness has to do with us, not them.

Here’s the real truth:

Bitterness is caused, not by someone else’s wrong treatment of me, but of my own wrong response to their wrong treatment of me.

Can’t you see and hear and sense this truth in Asah’s song?  He’s just tasted the bile of his own bitterness. Instead of blaming the bad guy, Asah realizes that the only hope for release from what ails him is found in God. Specifically, in focusing his gaze on God. “You hold… You guide… You lead…” He is finding that while people fail him, God never does. “He is mine forever”.

And as Asah revels in worship of God’s unfailing care, the angst and anxiety begins to loosen. Instead of having to keep up his guard, he finds a place of safety outside of himself— in God. And then, to his own amazement, he can’t wait to tell the very ones who hurt him all about this One who never does and never will.

How did he do that? How can I?

Before we explore further, this mystery no one but the fully forgiven can ever hope to understand, I think we need to take an honest look at our inner lives. We need to stop denying our own ugliness in order to allow the healing Spirit of God to root out any hint of bitterness that may be crowding out our ability to respond to Him.

Here, my dear girls, are…

Six Symptoms of Bitterness:[1] 

• A strong negative feeling towards someone
• Uncommon anger
• Overwhelming fear
• Emotional outbursts such as ugly comments, unexplained tears, or yelling
• Feeling resentment toward someone
• Constant turmoil in your heart

Can you see any of these symptoms popping up in your daily life? When your husband is less than Prince Charming? When PMS makes you crazy? When that slow line at the check out counter makes you late?

Job echoed what many of have experienced:

“My bitter soul must complain.”

Job 10:1

Could a deeply hidden resentment towards someone in your past be causing all that grumbling at everybody and anybody you’ve fallen into?

Because your marriage will never be free and overflowing with love and laughter as long as you’ve got forgiveness work towards anybody left undone.

And your friendships will never last long while bitterness fuels continual bouts of complaining.

And your children will have a hard time understanding the grace and mercy of God as long as they see that bitter, edgy, constantly-correcting paradigm of righteous annoyance that pops up during conflict.

Might this just be the right time to be honest enough with ourselves to dig a little deeper? To ask God…

Search me, O God, and know my heart;


Try me and know my anxious thoughts;

And see if there be any hurtful way in me,


And lead me in the everlasting way.

Psalm 139:22,23

NASB

I’ll be praying for you, my girls, this week as you ponder those hidden away places to see if there is someone, anyone, you need to forgive. And I’ll be searching my own heart too.

Next week I’ll give you a quick recap on what forgiveness really is— as well as what it isn’t.

But just as a heads up, there is a difference between fully forgiving someone who has wronged and hurt you and fully reconciling with someone who is unrepentant and thus not safe for relationship.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. What have you learned about bitterness?  Are there more symptoms you’ve seen in your own life or someone close to you? And do you think men express their bitterness differently than women do?

You know I love to hear from you. Your thoughts continually deepen what I have to say.

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[1] Taken from Muriel Cook’s excellent book, Kitchen Table Counseling. If you don’t own this book, I highly recommend it.