I Stand Fearless

A lot of people I know spend time at the end/start of each year asking for a word or promise from God for the upcoming year, one they hold on to all year as life hits. Mostly authors I follow, although that could just be because they write about it! I’m sure there are others who do it too. 

I’ve never actually done it myself. I’ve had years where I’ve had a prayer I’ve prayed over the year which has come up time and time again throughout it but never a specific word. Until this year. 

Yep, I have a word for 2019. Which is a total shock to me since I neither asked for one nor sought one nor even wanted one! The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. And yet, as I was reading my Bible a couple of days before the end of 2018, there it was. One word, standing out of the passage as a whole like it had bright flashing lights and a whole heap of arrows pointing it out in a way that I couldn’t have missed it if I tried. 

Fearless. 

Psalm 46:2 (The Message) – “…I stand fearless…” 

Apparently, in 2019, I'm going to be fearless. That's what God has promised me. 

Thankfully, the promise/word didn't stop there. (Phew!) 

God wasn't saying I'd be fearless because I was brave or because I have it all together (Ha! Not even close). Certainly not because I have all the answers. Nope. I stand and will stand fearless because, as the rest of the psalm says, God fights for me. God is both on my side and by my side. Fighting for me and protecting me. 

“Jacob-wrestling God fights for us, 

God-of-Angel-Armies protects us.”

Fearlessness isn't about whether I can control the storms (I can’t) or whether I have the strength to face them (I don’t). It’s about God. Only God. He can control the storms. He has the strength to face them. I just have to stand by his side. Fearless. Reckless almost by human standards. Taking on the storm because I know that God’s got this. 

A word like that should have totally freaked me out. Believe me, I’ve been a Christian long enough to know how things like this work. You pray for patience and you get a whole heap of situations which try it. Pray for strength and learn very quickly what it is to be weak. Pray for peace and suddenly everything goes crazy. Not because God is cruel but because he loves us and wants us to grow and realize how much we do need him every hour of every day.

God telling me to be fearless? Not just in a particular situation but for whatever gets thrown at me this year? Not exactly the kind of promise an introverted, anxiety-fighting Aussie stepping her way into the big, scary world of US publishing wants to hear. We’re three weeks into January and already I’m wondering how I’m going to make it through each day the next few hours without completely falling apart. 

And yet, it didn’t freak me out at all. Not even a little bit. All I could think was how excited I was to have such a promise. I stand fearless – because I don’t stand alone. God is fighting for me. God is protecting me. God is by my side. 

This year is going to be huge. Seriously. Way bigger than I can handle alone. It’s going to stretch me and probably come close to breaking me at times (oh wait, it already has :p) but I’m really excited to see what God is going to do in me and through me. I’m excited to put my hand in his and stand fearless looking out over cliffs and storms, reckless with the knowledge that God fights for me and protects me. 

I stand fearless. 

How about you? Do you ask God for a word each year? Have one even if you don’t? Wonder, like me, how many times I’m going to have to re-read this and remind myself of this promise when I feel like I’m drowning? :p (Feel free to remind me!) I'd love to hear if you do!

A Heart Full of Hope

Waiting is no fun. Believe me, I know. This year has been a huge year of waiting for me – these past few months in particular. Waiting for answers, waiting for slow kids, waiting for packages to arrive, waiting on email replies, waiting for the ice cream truck (oh wait, that’s just today ;)) One of those packages I mentioned? I ordered it almost three months ago now from a company in the US. Customs, Christmas season and postal strikes in the US meant I waited three weeks for it to arrive, only to have it be the wrong item. They were very helpful and immediately sent out a replacement (and said I could keep the first one). Six weeks later, the replacement finally arrived, only to be the wrong one again! Again, very helpful and apologetic, refunded the money, told me to keep the wrong one and have, again, sent out a replacement – which I’m still waiting for. 

That’s the kind of year it’s been. Waiting, on top of waiting, on top of waiting. Holding on to hope that, at the end of the waiting, there will be something worth waiting for. 

It’s made this Christmas so poignant. 

That, and the fact that I’ve been ‘big picture reading’ (8-10 chapters at a time) my Bible chronologically for the past few months. I’ve read the Bible from start to finish before (once J I’ve always been more of a pick a book and study it for a while person) but this is the first time I’ve read it chronologically. And it’s been mind-blowing.

The story of God’s incredible grace, patience and faithfulness not just through a single chapter or person but through generations. The prophesies, the psalms, the promises. God’s people failing over and over, walking away when all God wanted was to lavish love on them. Them finally being exiled, all these terrible but rightfully-deserved punishments being piled on them but still, throughout each death- and horror-filled prediction, the promise of hope. Of salvation. 

“I’ll send you away, but I’ll bring you back. Yes, you’ll be in exile, but I’ll send a Savior to bring you home. I will not forget you. When you turn back, I’ll be there, already waiting. You’ve strayed so far, but I’ll make a way back. You are my people. You’ve forgotten me but I will never forget you.”

And they were exiled. God turned away. He was silent. For seven hundred years. The people waited. And waited. And waited.

And then, just like God had promised, he made a way. 

Jesus came. 

A promise fulfilled. 

The end of the wait. 

The answer.

The Savior they’d been waiting for. 

Hope, when they’d almost given up.

That day, which probably seemed like every other day, nothing out of the ordinary, everything changed. Whether the people knew it or not, the wait was over. 

This is what Christmas is. The end of the wait. The promise fulfilled. 

I don’t like waiting but wow, to look forward in hope and know that, just like God did with Jesus, he will fulfil his promises in my life. 

This Christmas, hold on to hope. Look forward in hope. And know that God is working in the waiting. You are not forgotten. One ordinary day, you will see those promises fulfilled. And every one of them will be worth the wait. 

Two Teenaged Girls and the Power of Words

Last weekend I read a book about the power of words. You’d think it was a non-fiction book from that description but no, it was fiction. A Dystopian/Sci-Fi Young Adult book by Patricia Forde called The List, which follows the story of a remnant of people left after global warming wipes out most of the world. Why did this happen? Because people didn’t listen. Warnings went unheeded because words were thrown around rather than used wisely. Words became superfluous, abused. 

To save those who are left and ensure such a catastrophe doesn’t happen again, the leader of the remnants cuts down the people’s words to a list of five hundred. If there aren’t as many words to use, people will get to the point faster and be forced to live in the present. (It was a lot more detailed than that but hopefully you get the gist without me giving away the whole story!)

I’d never considered words being what would make or break the world. The whole concept is mind-boggling and yet, I found myself thinking about it long after I’d finished the book. The power of words. The fact that a group of people could be controlled not by taking away their weapons but by taking away their words. 

As a writer, I’m incredibly thankful for words. It’s kind of hard to write a book without them. A single word can change a whole story. A particular description, a well-turned phrase (or a terrible one), a sentence that sticks in a reader’s mind and brings them to a place they never dared to go themselves. Word choice is the difference between a good book and an amazing one. 

But in real life, words are even more powerful. 

And I don’t just mean quote-worthy speeches by powerful people or Bible verses memorized and brought to mind at just the right time. 

A simple hello has the power to change a life. Imagine being someone who feels invisible, like everyone passes by you, chatting with friends and fitting in and being somebody. And then one of them turns around and says hello. Someone notices you. Someone reminds you that you’re not invisible. You’re someone. 

Sounds crazy but someone did this for me once. Two someones actually. 

It was at church when I was a young teen (tween? Late primary, early high school). I was part of a really great youth group with a bunch of other teens my age. We used to meet up every Friday night for fun and/or Bible studies and Sunday nights, during church, sit together for the service. Well, they would. I’d sit with my mum. Kind of. She was involved in the music team for the worship part of the service so I’d actually sit alone for half the time. 

Could I have sat with the other teens my age? Sure. But I never did. Mainly because I never quite felt like I belonged with them. I wasn’t quite as cool as them, didn’t quite have the right clothes or outgoing personality, spent more time reading than chatting about boys, etc. You get the idea. The usual teen stuff. For whatever reason, I felt on the outer. There, but not there. 

But, despite this, there were a couple of girls (the coolest ones there, in my mind J) who’d walk all the way down the front to where I sat every week by myself and invite me to sit with them. I can’t remember ever saying yes but they still kept inviting me. And it meant so much to me. To know that I meant something. That, despite their coolness and my un-coolness, they noticed me and cared enough to ask if I wanted to join them and be part of their group. Thinking about it now, it seems so shallow and silly and honestly, it probably meant nothing to them to ask but to me, an insecure young teen girl, it meant everything. 

Simple words. “Want to sit with us?” Life-changing moments. 

Words have power. 

Not just big words that change the world but the little ones too, the ones that change individual’s worlds.

“You matter.”

“You are enough.”

“I love you.”

“Come and sit with me?”

“Thankyou.”

They’re so simple. And yet…wow. 

Have you ever considered the impact simple words can have? They’re so easy to throw about and yet have such power. 

I loved reading The List. It was a great story. But I love even more the way it reminded me how thankful I am for words and the power they have. Something I won’t be taking for granted any time soon. 

So, who can you encourage today? You don’t have to have any big words or anything truly profound to say. You’d be amazed how much a simple, ‘I appreciate you,’ can mean to someone. Go for it!

Treasure these Things

Christmas is coming. It might be only October but already plum puddings and decorations are filling the stores. Which is great. At least, every other year I would have thought so. This year, for some reason, I just about had a panic attack in the middle of Woolworths three weeks ago (in September!!! Don't they usually wait until after Halloween???) when I saw them. Yep, one little plum pudding had me waging a silent all-out war to keep my heart and lungs from fleeing the scene as I stood there clutching my trolley like the lifeline it was. 

I love Christmas, I really do. I love the fun, the traditions, the joy, the food, the decorations in every store, the music, the lights, the wonder of finding a king in a stable, the fun of finding just the right gifts and wrapping them as I sing along to my favourite carols... Basically, everything about it. I'm one of those people who wander up and down the Christmas aisles at the stores purely for the delight of it and put my Christmas tree up in early November because I love how beautiful it looks - and may or may not have a couple of sneaky Christmas decorations up all year round...

It’s not Christmas which has me freaking out. It’s the fact that it’s coming. And I’m not ready. Give it two months and I might be. Maybe. Probably not. I just feel like this year is moving way too fast. Faster than I can keep up with. Like if I close my eyes even for a moment, years will pass. I want to hold on, stop the world spinning for a few hours and just breathe.

Anyone else with me there? 

It’s hard to slow down. Even harder to actually stop. 

Funny that Christmas, the one thing I’m trying so hard not to think about right now, might just hold the answers to my problem. I know, Jesus is the answer to everything (unless it’s Abraham :p) but this time, it’s Mary. 

Specifically, the way she stopped. Took time to treasure the moments. The Christmas story mentions a couple of times that she did it. After angels sent the shepherds to visit her new little family… ‘but Mary treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart’ (Luke 2:19), and after she lost Jesus as a child only to find him in the temple… ‘but his mother treasured all these things in her heart’ (Luke 2:51).

I’m no expert on the culture of that time and maybe it means something different but when I read that, I see Mary stopping, closing her eyes and capturing the wonder of it all. Reliving it in those minutes before she falls asleep at night. Thanking God for the privilege. It’s purposeful rather than something that happened by accident. She chose to treasure them. 

It didn’t happen by chance. It was a choice. To stop, to sit in wonder, to treasure those moments. 

Yes, Christmas is coming. Yes, time is passing way faster than I’m happy with. No, there’s nothing I can do about it. 

But I can make the choice to stop. To listen. To treasure these moments. The hard ones, the impatient ones, the times when injury forces me to stop and the times I walk in wonder through parks filled with more beauty than any human could ever create. It’s a choice. 

It’s hard to stop, especially going into the crazy busy season which is coming whether we like it or not, but like Mary, I want to treasure these things. Not rush through them be purposeful about cherishing them. Noticing them. The moments.  

For me, that means making a list now (yep, in October) of what I need to do for Christmas so I can start thinking about it now rather than them all piling up in December (sidenote, did you know you can write Christmas cards in October??? Crazy! :p But, believe it or not, the whole world doesn't blow up if you get them done early. Why have I not thought of this before???) and being really intentional about making space to rest and/or just sit (and refusing to feel guilty about it). Already the stress is feeling less since I've sorted out Christmas cards and end of year teacher gifts. 

I don't know what it'll look like for you - maybe being more prepared, maybe being less, maybe doing less or simply being more intentional about what you do do - but I challenge you to find a way, before it gets totally crazy, to treasure these things. 

Do you Dare?

Ever played the game ‘Truth or Dare’? I remember playing it a few times at sleepovers as a teenager. For those who don’t know, it’s simple. Each person takes a turn, choosing whether they want to answer a question with the truth – usually something pretty personal – or do a dare. Questions get pretty deep around 3am at a sleepover full of teenaged girls, like which youth group boy you have a crush on :p 

Not having had a crush on any of the boys at youth group and being far more terrified of what kind of dare a slightly hyper group of girls might come up with, the few times I played it, I always chose Truth.

I could say it was the easier option since I had nothing to hide but really, I was just a control freak with a heavy dose of scaredy cat. Not much has changed. Though I haven’t played that game in years, I can guarantee I’d still choose Truth every time. 

And then, God dared me. 

I didn’t even know we were playing. 

I was just reading my Bible before bed, probably thinking more about what I needed to do tomorrow and whether the publisher I’d sent my manuscript to would ever get back to me than I was actually reading and out of nowhere… I. DARE. YOU.

I’m blaming Abraham. If he hadn’t dared to trust God – and Paul seen the need to point it out and use him as an example – I could have gone to bed happily worrying about all my fears. (Ok, not so happily but you know what I mean.)

But no. There it was black and white, printed clear as anything. Romans 4:17 (The Message). 

‘Abraham was first called “father” and then became a father because he dared to trust God to do what only God could do.’ (Italics mine)

Abraham chose Dare. 

Dared to trust God. 

To do what only God could do.

The second verse of that chapter sums it up pretty well. ‘The story we’re given is a God-story, not an Abraham-story.’ 

The question was, could the same be said about me and my life, especially in regards to the writing I was stressing about?

Could I one day say, “Hannah was first called ‘author’, then became a published author because she dared to trust God to do what only God could do.” That, “Hannah’s story is a God-story, not a Hannah-story.”

Did I dare to trust God to do what he said he’d do? What only he could do?

I can do my best, make sure I send the cleanest copy of my manuscript to editors and put everything I have into proposals but I can’t actually make someone else’s decisions for them. I can’t make them choose me or my story. There are so many other factors out of my control – timing, whether or not the publishers have contracted another story like it recently, what sort of mood the reader is in, whether they have bad experiences with a person with the same name as the character I named… Only God can pull all that together. 

Do I trust him?

Honestly? I’m struggling to. I know he can, he has before, he knows them, he knows me but the human side of me is seriously fighting for that control I don’t have. In my heart, I trust, but in my head? Oh boy am I failing. 

But I want to be daring. I want to keep believing. I want to trust. And maybe that’s where it starts.  

Faith is hard. Actually, I take that back. Faith is downright brutal sometimes. It’s taking everything I have right now to hold on to that faith and not my impatience. It’s a day by day, minute by minute choice to trust not in what I can do but what God can. 

And, because I’m nice like that and love to share the fun around, I now challenge you – take the dare. 

What is God daring you to do? What in your life can only be done by what God can do? 

And the biggest question, do you dare?

Take the Step, You're Not Alone

I’m a big picture person when it comes to my dreams and goals for the future. I hold on pretty tight to that moment in my imagination when it happens and I achieve what I’ve been working toward, playing it over and over to inspire me, but block out a lot of the details because honestly, they’re a little scary. I’m a big fan of my comfort zone. I like learning new things and going new places, just not the first time. If we could just skip that first time for everything, I’d be good. 

I remember four times in life in particular when I was rushing toward a new situation and, much as I knew I’d be fine once I got there, was utterly terrified. The impending births of my three kids were three of them (yikes, becoming a parent (even for the third time) is terrifying! I absolutely love being a mum and always knew I would but there were so many unknowns – whether I could handle the lack of sleep, whether the baby would be happy or colicky or just plain grumpy, how their older siblings would handle the change, whether I’d packed everything I needed that wasn’t on the long list of what to bring to the hospital, etc, etc, etc…) and the other was moving house. 

It was the house one that got to me the most. I tried and tried to trust God that wherever we moved, it would be good for our family because he was in control and already there but there were a lot of nights spent panicking rather than resting in faith. I knew wherever we moved would be great, but I liked where I was. I was comfortable. 

There was one night in particular that I remember being caught in a panic, yet again, and trying, yet again, to remind myself that our new house, wherever it would be, wasn’t a secret to God. That he was already there. I imagined in my head that picture I’m sure so many of you have seen of Jesus standing beside a door, lantern in hand, waiting. (I know, it’s usually used to symbolise him waiting for us to accept his knock at the door (Revelations 3:20) but it seemed to fit this situation too.) And I did picture it, kind of. For a moment at least. Thing was, he didn’t stay by the door. 

Nope. In this figurative new house, the one he already knew, he wasn’t waiting by the door. He was inside. And he wasn’t holding a lantern. Every light in the house was on. There was my imagined self, walking up to the door of this dauntingly unknown new house only to find Jesus in the kitchen, pulling a roast out of the oven, table set and the house smelling amazing, welcoming us home. 

It was the most incredible picture and one I’ve been clinging to like crazy lately. No, I’m not moving house but I do feel like my dreams of being a published author are getting closer to being realised (or maybe I’m just hopeful… J). Which, of course, comes with both excitement and a fair share of nerves. All those little steps I’ve been trying not to think about – having to talk face to face with publishing professionals rather than hiding behind emails, getting a professional (or at least better than a selfie) author photo, contracts and paperwork, etc – are getting harder to avoid. And yes, they totally scare me. 

But the thing is, I’m not alone in them. The big steps, the little ones, none of them are taken alone. God is by my side, holding me through every one of them. But the coolest thing? He’s also at the end. In that moment when my dream is realised. Calling me to come. Calling out encouragement. 

Like a friend calling out from the waves, the ones splashing my feet where I stand at the water’s edge. “Come on in, the water’s fine.”

Or the friend who’s gone home early from a long day skiing and gotten the fire burning and the roast cooked. “Come on in, welcome home.”

Yes, there are daunting aspects to walking forward, but you don’t take them alone. So, take the step. Walk out in faith, even if your legs shake. Because your greatest encourager is already there, waiting to welcome you home. 

And who doesn’t love a good roast J

When God Made You

It’s almost birthday week in my house. Two of my three kids have birthdays two days apart (and Father’s Day is always that weekend too) and, despite us not being big party people, the celebrations always end up stretching a week. Or two. And, of course, birthdays mean cake. Lots of cake. 

If you’ve followed this blog for any amount of time, you’ll probably have picked up the fact that I love baking. I enjoy decorating cakes too. Mostly. Somewhere along the way, my family got the idea in their heads that I can make anything – superheroes, instruments, their favourite TV characters, etc – and every year their requests for what they want their cake to be get more and more difficult. I like a challenge, and I love my family and making their days special, so I keep saying yes. Which either ends up with me bouncing around the house thrilled at how well the cake has turned out or sobbing my heart out while I wonder what on earth I was thinking. And how on earth I can fix it. 

Needless to say, I’ll never be a professional cake decorator or go on any sort of baking reality show. 

This year’s requests have been a My Little Pony cake and a MarioKart track. Over the past month or so, I’ve googled photos of those kinds of cakes for ideas, planned out my design, figured out what I need, listed off the different parts I need to make and colours of fondant/icing I’ll need, etc. 

I spent an hour this morning making fondant coins, blue and red Koopa shells, banana peels, a rainbow and a whole stack of leaves which, thankfully all turned out great. I can now enjoy how clever I am for a week before I have to decorate the actual cakes and remember why I don’t do this for a living… (See Cakes, Bakes and Expectations for how that usually goes!)

I was thinking as I was rolling and colouring fondant this morning, cutting out shapes, about the way God created us. The fact that he made us from nothing and, like me and the fondant spheres I couldn’t get smooth, left his fingerprints all over us. 

Did you ever think about that? That God made you? Not just in some ‘he spoke and it happened’ way but that he formed you with his hands. 

I spent a month or two thinking about these cakes, planning them. God spent an eternity planning you. The shape of your ears, the colour of your eyes, the way you smile, the length of your fingers. But more than that even, your character. Not just the way you smile but what makes you smile, what tugs at your heart, what you love doing, what you’re good at. Whether you’re analytical or whimsical, quiet or loud, need lots of friends or just one, are musical, sporty, creative or can’t draw to save your life. 

By the time I’m through with making my cakes, I’m ready to take a few photos, sing happy birthday, and dump them. God’s not like that (thankfully!). He can’t get enough of his creation. He absolutely loves you. Not only did he delight in creating you but he adores you. Wants to spend every day, every hour with you. You know those people who can’t stop bragging about how precious and beautiful their kids are? Yeah, that’s God. He writes songs about you. Brags about you. Can’t wait for you to wake up in the morning so you can spend another day together. You are his absolute delight. You were the day you were born, you still are now.

And, unlike me, God didn’t cheat when he made you. Yep, I cheat. Ponies? Seriously? I can’t even draw them, let alone make them 3D. Sure, I could probably try but why spend that much time (and frustration) trying when I can just buy a few little toys? Total cheat. 

God doesn’t cheat. Every part of you, he made just for you. He didn’t buy in bulk or raid the closest cheap store for what makes you you. He didn’t decide the last person he made turned out pretty awesome so he’ll just use that mould again. Nope. You are an original. God took a lump of cells and made them into you. Beautiful, one-of-a-kind you. Dreamed, planned, designed, handmade by God. Covered in his fingerprints. 

You are loved! 

Way more than cake :)