Category Archives: Lies

Too Whatever: Overcoming the Sticky Green Lies

Last year,  I did a post called “Too Whatever.” Upon a reader’s request, I’m writing it again, with a little spin, a little more backstory, a little more dimension. I pray it blesses you. God loves your “Too Whatevers.”

When I turned forty, I had a strong and wonderful moment of empowerment.

Finally.

Old enough to command respect. Old enough not to care what people think. Old enough to bust out and do whatever I want.

It was a fleeting moment.

A sudden fear of being obsolete and out of touch came over me as I studied my hair in the mirror, and the half-inch of showing roots looked whiter than ever. And all that empowerment? Fled away, its whimpering and ancient gray tail tucked between its legs.

I shared this aging angst with my friend, the lovely Chana Keefer.

She understood. She laughed. And she told me that she had the same fear about her modeling career–when she was sixteen.

Sixteen.

At the time, fifteen-year-old Brooke Shields had hit it big, and Chana was one year older. She was, she decided, over the hill, past her prime, antiquated, passé. She hadn’t done enough in her field. She was doomed to fail at life.

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At sixteen.

Chana, of course, went on to do all kinds of amazing things, modeling, acting, writing, living.

And this conversation was an eye-opener for me.

Chana heard the same lies, at a young age, at sixteen years old, that were trying to take me out at forty.

Too old.

The same lies.

As I talked to Chana, the Holy Spirit showed me a dark figure holding handfuls of green slime, like really wet neon green bubble gum. He was waiting for someone to walk by so he could throw it at them and cover them with the nasty goo.

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And I heard the Holy Spirit say this: The enemy has nothing new. He has no creativity or orderly strategy, even though it seems like he does at times. He just stands there and throws the same lies at all of you.

It’s up to you what sticks.

It showed me the truth. The same lies come against all of us, no matter who we are or what we are dealing with.

Too old. Too young. Too late. Too shy. Too inexperienced.

Too…whatever.

We all hear the same doubts and battle the same insecurities.

It’s up to us what sticks.

I shared this story with a friend in the music industry. She said, “YES!! When I was in my twenties and thirties and I went to auditions, I was always afraid of being told I was too young for the part. I thought when I turned 40, that feeling would go away! And it did, but it was immediately replaced with a new one. Too seasoned. I started hearing people say the company told them they were ‘too seasoned’ for a part. Overnight, my fear went from being ‘too young,’ to being ‘too seasoned.”

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Whatever we put our faith in that isn’t God will let us down. We will just trade one lie for another, over and over, until we realize we have to stand on the miraculous power of the truth of God for our lives and nothing else.

His word for us??

OVERCOMERS.

We are OVERCOMERS.

You are an overcomer. An Overcomer of the Too Whatevers.

All the enemy has is lies. That’s all he has. He can’t create, he can only pervert what God has made with lies.

When you approach your destiny, he flings those sticky green lies at you, harder than ever.

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Don’t believe the lies that say, “you can’t,” whatever they are.

In that moment of 40-year-old empowerment, I started my blog. I started appearing on media. I started doing video and ministering online.

Not long after, when the doubts came, I went to the Lord.

“Father. I am too late. I waited too long. I’m too old.”

And I swear to you, He laughed.

I heard Him laugh for what felt like a very long time.

It made me laugh.

And then I heard Him say this: I love too old.

And before my eyes, I saw Abraham and Sarah, Moses, Daniel, Anna, and Caleb.

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They were all “too old” when God did some of the most amazing things in their lives.

“I love too old.”

“Ok then,” I said. “You love too old. Well. Let’s see what you can do with this.”

Truth is, you might be older or younger than the average success story. You might have held on to a vision for years. You might have too much on your plate to see your way to living your dreams or reaching your goals.

But God loves our “Too Whatevers.” He loves showing up in the gap, like He did for Gideon and his tiny army and bringing them to victory.

When I said, “Too old,” God did not try to talk me out of it. He said, “Oh, that? No problem. I love it.”

I felt that He was laughing because He much prefers to show His strength in us than let us lean on our own. When we feel weak, He is strong in us.

I could tell you that you haven’t missed the boat. And ultimately, I believe it is true. God wants to use you. He wants to help you. There is plenty of time. There’s always a place for the thing you carry because it’s never been done by you, in your own unique way.

But even if you did miss the boat, get this–

IT. DOES. NOT. MATTER.

I’m laughing typing this.

Even if you did miss it, your Daddy in Heaven loves a missed boat. He loves too old! He loves when we are late to the party! He loves TOO…WHATEVER!!!

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I love thinking of Caleb, armored up and raring to go. I imagine that he must have felt it too, at least one or two times, that he had missed the boat. It makes me wonder if he was determined not to miss it again, if God used some of that pent up energy from the past to give Caleb a greater measure of courage, if Caleb felt closer to death than the others because of his age, and rather than letting it weaken him, he wanted to go out with a bang in the promised land. It seems that God used the very thing that could hold Caleb back to make him the fiercest warrior of the day.

Never give up. Never, never, never, never, never give up. You have destiny inside you. You carry purpose and a plan. You carry the future. Don’t quit. If you have a commission on your life, He will help you achieve it. Don’t leave a vision because it sat too long, unless He tells you to leave it. He loves missed boats, late-to-the-party guests. He loves your “Too Whatevers.”

***

Father, I thank You that You are the God of Second Chances! And Third! And Fourth! And A Million!!! Thank You that nothing is impossible for You! Even our weaknesses and stumblings–especially our weaknesses and stumblings. You show Yourself strong in our weaknesses. You love our TOO WHATEVERS!

Thank You that we can’t miss the boat in You if we really want to catch it. God, we lay it all at Your feet. Our doubts. Our insecurities. Our struggles. Time. Energy. Inspiration. Skill level. Experience. Team. Whatever we feel is lacking, we give it to You.

We give you permission. Take what we have to give, however we feel about it, and DO SOMETHING AWESOME WITH IT!

We rebuke the lies of the enemy that would come in and shut us down and shut us up! We rebuke the sticky green goo that tries to attach itself to us! It cannot touch us, it cannot stick–because we stand on the word of TRUTH! We are OVERCOMERS IN CHRIST! We stand in expectation, that You will take our “Too Whatevers” and turn them in to SOLID GOLD. In Jesus’ name, amen!

Four Faces of Poverty and One Way to Overcome Them All

Poverty is a life-stealer, a joy-stealer, a dream-stealer.

A thief.

And like many thieves, a poverty mindset is a master of disguise.

A poverty spirit can wear many faces and speak with many voices.

There is no doubt that things happen in life that are beyond our control, and this post is by no means a dismissal of hardships. I have experienced poverty circumstances at different times in my life. I know how hard it can be, but I have also overcome a lot of the mindsets and the circumstances, so I also know it can be done! There is hope. The battle is in our minds. These are a few tips to help you recognize the enemy and win the battle.

Hopeless Identity

The most common expression of poverty that I hear says things like, “That will never work. I’ll never have that. I don’t even want those things. That life is not for me. Life is a struggle. The odds are stacked against me. I was born in this situation, and I’ll die in it. Everyone I know is like me. There’s no way out. I’m poor. It’s who I am.”

This face wears poverty as identity. Usually people who think this way have a mindset that has been passed down to them through generations. This face is marked by hopelessness. The oppression is so great, there is not even a concept of dreaming.

Entitled Resentment

One expression says, “Not only am I stuck with this life, but if I can’t have something better, no one else should have it either!  It’s not fair! I got some bad breaks, so everyone else should have to exist on my level. In fact, those people who have more than me? They should give me some of what they have. They owe me.”

This face wears poverty as resentment, and it is marked by entitlement. The saddest thing about resentment is that it keeps this person from connecting with people who do know how to succeed, people who also had some bad breaks, but overcame them. Resentful, entitled poverty will isolate these people in a cycle of group-think with others who have the same mindset and, therefore, affirm their unhelpful attitudes. This cycle will prevent them from learning other thought patterns that lead to success–and, then, lead them to helping others.

Defeated Heaviness

Another expression will admit that it wants success, but feels too beaten down to go after it. This one says things like, “I’d love to go after my dreams, but I don’t know how. I’m too old/young/uneducated/inexperienced/etc. I just can’t do it.”

This face wears poverty as total defeat and  is marked by a heaviness, an inertia, a lack of movement toward personal goals.

Self-Sabotaging Perfectionism

And the last expression is not always easily identified as a poverty mindset, because it looks different from the outside. This expression will admit that it wants success and will work hard to get it. However, it will self-sabotage all along the way. A person with this expression of poverty will throw tantrums with loved ones. Nothing is ever good enough for them, and they will reject opportunities, gifts, and offers of help because these offers don’t live up to their “standards.”

This expression wears poverty as perfectionism and is marked by an appearance of success, or of seeking success, that is thwarted by self-sabotage. Perfectionism is just another kind of poverty. It will keep a person from ever accepting themselves or any good thing that comes their way.

One Way to Overcome Them All

The way to conquer these feelings, or any spirit, is to cut them off where they started, at the root.

Humans are three-part beings, body, soul, and spirit, so the root has to be dealt with in every area.

For the body, take care of yourself. It’s your temple. It’s God’s temple. You will not feel like you are living the abundant life eating chips on the couch. Well. Not for long, anyway. Proclaim over yourself that any expression of poverty in your body is cut off at the root and allowed no longer, in the name of Jesus! Ask God to replace any poverty in your body with life and life abundant!

For the soul, think abundant thoughts! All behavior comes out of your thoughts. To change a life, change the thoughts. Write down upgraded thoughts, especially from scripture, and post them all over your house, car, and workplace. Proclaim over yourself that any expression of poverty in your soul is cut off at the root and allowed no longer, in the name of Jesus! Ask God to replace any poverty in your soul with life and life abundant!

For the spirit, take hold of your true identity! You are made in the image of God. Every good thing that He is, it exists inside of you! Proclaim over yourself that you are His beautiful creation, and any expression of poverty in your spirit is cut off at the root and allowed no longer, in the name of Jesus! Ask God to replace any poverty in your spirit with life and life abundant!

And for all three:  Ask God to show you the deeper things He has for you. When I started writing this post, I prayed and asked God what He wanted in the solution, and I heard Seneca Schurbon’s name. You may be familiar with Seneca’s groundbreaking work with flower essences. I shared the idea for this post with her and asked for her suggestions.

You can learn more about flower essences at her blog here. Seneca sees people integrating and healing body, soul, and spirit by using her products, and she has an essence called Prosper that she suggested for anyone wanting to try something a little out of the box. Everything Seneca does is done prayerfully and based on years of research and testimonies from clients. The Prosper essence “addresses poverty mentality, scarcity, and lack.” You can try a free sample of this essence and others by following the link; just click and type in Prosper, or browse the site for other possibilities.

If flower essences aren’t for you, ask God to show you what He has for you to do. He is limitless. His ways are high and delightful and creative. He wants to bless you and surprise you with a tailored personal touch on your life.

We all deal with poverty feelings from time to time. When thought patterns try to  come in that don’t line up with your best life, stop them at the onset.

***

Would love to hear from readers who have overcome a poverty mindset or something similar.

What worked for you? What would you suggest for others fighting this battle?

Please share in the comments!

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future. Jer29:11

One Nation Under…Creepy Clowns?

Last week, I asked my teenage daughter what she would do if she saw a creepy clown.

We were walking near our house.  The neighbor’s dumpster rested on the sidewalk in front of us, open and tipped on its side.

I said, “Like right now.  If you saw one.  What would you do if you saw a creepy clown crawl out of that dumpster?”

“Kick it!”  she said.  And we laughed.

I defy you to have this conversation and not laugh.  There is something both upsetting and hilarious about this trend.

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“Ok.”  I said, “But what if it were the neighbor, just in regular clothes, and he crawled out of the dumpster?”

“Oh. I would walk around him.”

I’m concerned about the safety of our citizens wearing clown masks.  Their lives are at great risk if my sweet and gentle daughter is ready to assault a clown  just for crawling out of a dumpster.

***

A friend of mine actually saw a creepy clown last year.

I’ll tell you what happened.

She and another woman were walking alone in a park after dark.  Not long after they arrived, they noticed a man in a creepy clown mask stalking them in the shadows, mimicking their every move.  The women were terrified and left the park.

Ok.

Scary, right?

Now.

Let me tell you the same story another way.

The two women went to the park.  It was after dark, but there were lights in the park.  Also, it was Halloween night, so lots of people were around.  They noticed a group of three teenage boys standing together at the edge of the playground.  One of them had on a clown mask.  That kid saw the women walking and said something to his friends.  He started following the women from across the playground.  If they walked, he walked; if they stopped, he stopped.

The other woman had a small pistol in a fanny pack on her hip.  She had her hand on it, ready to unzip and fire.  My friend was worried for the clowns’s safety and called out to him.

Her voice is funny when she recalls how she said it, kind of charmed and tolerant, the way you would ask a toddler if they were having fun playing in the toilet.

“Awwwww, hi!” she said, “Are you being a creepy clown?”

The boy stopped and tilted his head to one side and walked away, back to his friends.

The situation was diffused and the two women went on with their walk.  They did not call the media or the police or post about it on Facebook.

The story did not go on to have any creepy clown baby stories on the internet that day.

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The first version of that story is intentionally creepy.  The second version is still cringeworthy, but it is not sensational.

The media does this to us constantly, tweaking a story to pull out the most provocative elements, whether in regard to politics or race issues or creepy clowns.

And, sometimes, we do it to each other.

***

As of today, in reality, the actual reported creepy clown incidents are very few.

And there is absolutely no truth to reports of clowns hurting or luring children into some dark and scary woods.

Most child predators try to bribe kids with things they like, like candy.  Or puppies.  And it is common knowledge that many children are afraid of clowns.

No disrespect to the Tennessee Highway Patrol, but seriously.  As if any kid would go to these guys???

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At the time of this writing, out of over 40 states this fall, only two reports of creepy clown assaults on an individual in the U.S. are actually confirmed, and those involved a tenth grade student and an adult.

And get this:  the vast majority of arrests associated with creepy clown sightings have not been of people dressed like creepy clowns, but of those people who are lying about seeing creepy clowns.

***

What is going on here?

The last few years have seemed to hold more terror than we are used to.

Whether it’s true or not (and it appears in many cases to be false.  Look at this article on the declining rate of gun violence, and this one for the lower rate of other assaults in the U.S.), we are on high alert as a society.

International and national tension.  Election year stress. Our country finds itself in a time of cultural change in many areas, and most people fear change as much as anything else.

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We are heightened.

It makes sense that culture would come up with a scapegoat, something to diffuse the anxiety.  And clowns have always served this purpose.  Broken the tension. Lightened the mood.

People can talk about #ifisawaclown in a way that they can’t talk about #ifiseearefugee or #ifhilarywins or #iftrumpispresident, and on and on.

The conversations we are afraid to have with each other are infinite.

Enter the creepy clowns.  A universal thumbs down.  Something we all can agree on.

But here’s the problem.

The more that people perpetuate the rumors and the myth of the creepy clowns,  the more the myth will grow.  And the potential of something bad happening, to clowns and non-clowns alike, increases as the hysteria rises.  Mobs are notorious for terrible decisions, and clowns are not known for wisdom.

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Remember that scene in Prince Caspian, where Edmund thinks of his fear in the steaming ocean, and the fear comes to life?  A giant- kraken like monster wrapping itself around the ship as the sailors look into the fanged mouth of death.

All thanks to Edmund’s fear fantasy, manifested.

***

It’s a strange thing that these kinds of fears can be self-fulfilling prophecies.  

I pray that the hysteria dies down before someone else gets hurt.  I pray we can find peaceful and brave ways to face the real issues.  That we can call up in our collective selves a certain amount of tenacity and grit and strength that would make our grandparents proud.  That we can find ourselves unified as one nation with a common goal for good.  And just drop the clown thing already.  

Amen.

NOTE:  I was contacted by a reader after publishing this post.  She wanted to let me know that there were three confirmed clown attacks in Detroit.  In the name of integrity, I am including that addendum here.  That brought the number of confirmed attacks to five rather than two.  The basic message remains the same, however, that creepy clowns are not the threat that is implied by the amount of media attention they have received of late.

And just to check, I looked up the number of assaults yearly in Detroit.  The last year on record at citydata.com shows 9,191 assaults.  That’s an average of 25 assaults in Detroit every day.  Which confirms the point of this post–assaults by clowns are extremely rare.

The masks stand out and make clown attacks seem more prevalent than they are.  They are something we can identify, which is simultaneously creepy and reassuring.  We can identify the clown.  It’s the psychopaths that we interact with on a daily basis that we can not identify.  Much easier to just focus on clowns, however erroneously.

Too Whatever: Gray Hair, Doubts, and Insecurities.

When I turned forty, I had a strong and wonderful moment of empowerment.

Finally.  Old enough to command respect.  Old enough not to care what people think.  Old enough to bust out and do whatever I want.

I’ll admit.  It was a fleeting moment.

A sudden fear of being obsolete and out of touch came upon me as  I studied my hair in the mirror, and the half-inch of showing roots looked whiter than ever.   Hard-won identity fled, its ancient, gray tail between its legs.

I have serious wrinkles now.  That the kids gave me.  I used to point at my forehead when they were acting crazy and tell them, “See this?  See these wrinkles?  YOU ARE GIVING THEM TO ME!”

I gave the last sixteen years to raising kids.  I’m still doing it.  And I love it.  But all this time, I’ve been telling myself, “When they are older, then.  Then I can do my thing.”

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I once heard Oprah say, “You can have it all.  You just can’t have it all at the same time.”

The woman who doesn’t have children.  Telling me not to worry about putting off my career.

Mercy.

I shared this aging angst with my friend, the lovely Chana Keefer.  She is the best selling author of several books on Amazon. You can find her here.

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She understood.  She laughed.  She told me that she had the same  fear about her modeling career–when she was sixteen.

Sixteen.

At the time, fifteen-year-old Brooke Shields had hit it big, and Chana was one year older.  She was, therefore, over the hill, past her prime, antiquated, passé.  She hadn’t done enough in her field.  She was doomed to fail.

At sixteen.

Chana, of course, went on to do all kinds of amazing things, modeling, acting,  writing, living.

And this conversation was an eye-opener for me.

Chana heard the same lies, at a young age, at sixteen years old, that were trying to take me out at forty.

Too old. 

The same lies.

It showed me the truth.  That the same lies come against all of us, no matter who we are or what we are dealing with.

Too old, too young, too fat, too thin, too inexperienced, too seasoned, too…whatever.

We all hear the same doubts and battle the same insecurities.

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It’s up to us what sticks.

I don’t really collect anything, but if I did, it would be those stories of people who defy expectations and beat the odds.  Fairy tales.  Bible stories.  Sports movies.  I love ’em.  Can’t get enough.

Mike Rowe is fast becoming a Paul Harvey for our time.  He is a great storyteller, and I’m including a story from him today.  Listen now or save for later.  You’ll be glad you did.  “Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow,” about America’s first female self-made millionaire, Sarah Breedlove.   Link here.  (Doesn’t start till minute 6:00, so fast forward past the commercials if you need to.)

You can also read about Sarah Breedlove here at Wikipedia.

If Sarah can do it, I can do it.  And you can do it.  Beat the odds.  Have it all, whatever that looks like for you.

Don’t believe the lies that say, “you can’t,” whatever they are.

And.

Never give up.  Never, never, never, never, never give up.

***

Cheering you on, Fearless Wanderers! 

Shoplifting, Lego Robots, and the Brené Brown TED Talk on Courage and Vulnerability. {WATCH}

One time, I shoplifted.

Actually twice.

Once, when I was twelve, I took a lollipop from the candy store.

I ate it, but it tasted like death.

The second time, I was 18.

I know.  My character should have been more developed by then.  It was not a proud moment.

I was with a friend when I saw a package of six tiny Christmas bows.  They were the size of a penny.  So shiny and cute.

Tons of kids shoplifted in high school, but I never went along with the crowd, until that day.

I don’t know why those little bows stole my heart.  When my friend saw how much I wanted them, she said, “just take them.  They will fit right up your sleeve.”

So I did.

I stole.  Christmas bows.  At Christmas.  To put on Christmas presents.  To celebrate Jesus’ birthday.

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I could never open them.  I did not know what to do with them.  I never knowingly took anything again that wasn’t mine.

I was reformed.

That package of Christmas bows sat in my Christmas box until after I had kids.  I finally gave them to Goodwill.

Confession is good for the soul.

And not just the person confessing.  Allowing each other the freedom to fail is a gift.  And accepting each other, failure and all.  And loving, in spite of it.

Fears of failure and of rejection break relationship.  Fear of being left out or misunderstood because of imperfections we can’t control, our body shape, our age, our family tree.  Fear of being unlovable because of screw ups and missed opportunities and bad decisions.

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These fears cause us to try to cover up and act like something we’re not.

And healthy relationships can’t be built on lies.

I don’t know why humanity still struggles with this.

Like we think anyone is perfect.  Like it’s a surprise that people make mistakes and don’t know everything.

It shocks me when my kids cry over something new they learned at school, and they can’t do it perfectly the first time.  Like, kids, seriously, it’s school.  The whole point is finding out how much you don’t know and learning how to do some of it, right?

But when their little egos confront their own ignorance, that bubble of thinking, “I’m the best Lego builder in the world!” gets busted. They discover that, not only can you build awesome Lego structures, but you can also mechanize them.

Lego robots.  A whole new level.  Dang.

And they have to do the hard work of focus and self discipline until they achieve some level of mastery.

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And then, when they conquer that thing, they are elated.

It’s a cycle.  That is repeated often.  And it makes me look at myself.

How often do I encounter my own weakness and suddenly hate my life?

Like it’s a surprise.  Like it’s never happened before.

Right.

There is a thing that well meaning people do sometimes when you confess a failure.  They will say, “Oh, you didn’t really steal.  Or, let’s reframe that.  You didn’t really fail/sin/screw up.  You are a great person.  Don’t beat yourself up about it.  God loves you just the way you are.”

I love the heart of encouragement, but it seems to me that there is a hidden fear of failure in that kind of response.  Pushing back the idea of failure with both hands so that no one has to be embarrassed, or not know what to say, or see each other with eyes wide open.  Like when you walk in on someone in the toilet.  That one awful moment of being frozen with the door open and seeing that thing you can’t unsee.

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But, um, you know, people go to the bathroom.  Is it really that shocking?  And people screw up.  All the time.  Really good people.  Pretending we don’t and being afraid of admitting it makes for some seriously pointless conversation.

I love when I say, “Wow.  I did this thing.”

And the person next to me says, “Amen.  Thank You, Jesus.”  Or, “Oh.  Yeah.  Me too.”

Like they are happy for me when I see something I need to see.  Like they aren’t afraid of it.  Like they might even like me more, because I was willing to go there.

I appreciate that level of real.

It’s why I love Brené Brown.

I’m a huge fan.

Her viral TED Talk on “The Power of Vulnerability” was one catalyst in my walk away from fear and shame.

It’s my favorite ever TED Talk.  The guy who plays eleventy million  pop songs on the ukulele is a close second.  And the lady who power poses like Wonder Woman in the bathroom.  If you don’t know yet, I love when people maximize time in the bathroom.  It’s just so efficient.  People go there.  Might as well admit it and use the time wisely.

This talk is funny, deep, honest, and life changing.  Seriously.  If you only ever watch one TED Talk, this is the one.  Click here for link.  Over 26 million views and counting today, for a reason.

Courage, shame, and vulnerability.  I’m praying for all of us to get that breakthrough.   

Courage, the original definition of courage..it’s from the Latin word “cor,” meaning “heart.”   And the original definition was to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. . . the courage to be imperfect.   

–Brené Brown

***

If you find yourself wanting more of Brene’s insight, her follow up talk, “Listening to Shame,” where she discusses dorm room break-ins, vulnerability hangovers, and the fear of shame, can be found by clicking here.  

Empathy is the antidote to shame. . .The two most powerful words when we’re in struggle: me, too.  

Brené Brown

Confess your faults to each other, and pray for each other, that you might be healed.  Jas5:16.

Keeping Your Castle: How to Fight Fear.

The following story is similar to the last post but not the same.  Spot the differences?

The egg cracks, and a forked tongue flicks into the night air.  Fragments of the shell, thick and dark, fall into the soil below.  A tiny serpent oozes out of the broken mess, one long and writhing body, two heads.

In a room high above the nest, a woman sleeps.  The walls of the castle keep are too smooth for the serpent’s slick belly, but the vining ivy proves a perfect pathway to her window–or it would, had it not been cut so close.

The double-headed snake slithers its way along the vines and pauses near the window sill.  The smell of life is strong here.  It makes its way a little higher on the vine and then drops, aiming its body at the window ledge.   It nearly falls to the ground far below, but it twists at the last minute and scoots along the edge of the grated screen.

Finding no easy way inside, the serpent stops to warm itself on the rock wall still full of heat from the day’s sun.  Perhaps it has come far enough.  But its instinct is strong, and it pushes along the screen again.  Finding no holes, it presses hard, and the wooden frame comes away from the wall, just enough for the little beast to creep in.  

It makes its way down the heavy curtain and across the floor, but it is weary now from so much effort.  The serpent stops on the floor near the bed and falls asleep,

The woman also sleeps, soundly, having pulled on her helmet before laying her head on the pillow.  This is not her habit, but tonight, a chilly wind blows and bears an ill will.  She holds her sword in her hand.  Intruders would find this maiden hard to handle.

The queen’s guard makes a silent pass through the bedroom, checking to see that all is well.  He approaches the window to check the screen, and as he passes the foot of the bed, his bootheel connects with the serpent’s tiny heads.  It dies without waking, without ever knowing it has lost.

Lady the Fearless sleeps on, dreaming of victories.

***

The castle “keep” was the ultimate fortified tower.  Tall and thick and surrounded by a stone wall, equipped with weapons and designed for fighting, the keep gave the advantage to the defenders inside.

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These towers were made with the understanding of attack, to “keep” the vulnerable ones safe, the ultimate refuge.

In the last post, I gave you a story about a maiden in a tower that was not a keep.

There were several elements to last week’s tale:  a neglected castle yard, a tower covered in overgrown ivy, a wide open window, an unguarded bedroom, a vulnerable maiden, and a lying little snake.

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In  that post, I promised to share some of my strategies for slapping fear out of my head, for creating a different kind of story.  Here they are:

I try to keep fear from ever getting in.

I believe that I have nothing to fear, that God loves me like crazy and works all things together for my good.  This is not always a natural thought, so I  get it in my mind as often as I can, reading scripture and listening to teachers like Joyce Meyer or Lisa Bevere or Graham Cooke.

I’m aware of how I tolerate dark entertainment or heavy conversations, etc.  Sometimes, my tolerance is high.  Other times, I need to walk away.  Regardless of tolerance level, when negative things come in through the news, movies, conversations, or elsewhere, I make time to recharge.

I’m a pray-er.  Is that a word?  I don’t know, but I am one.  The minute I sense anything weird, I say a quick prayer.  Usually something like “Jesus help.”  Sometimes, that’s all I’ve got.

Fear can grab us physically before we know it.  Once in a while, just to check, I do a quick scan of my body.  How’s my breathing?  Deep breaths calm the body and mind.  How tense are my shoulders?  I consciously relax.

I meditate on scriptures, in my head or whispering if I have to, out loud if I can.  I’m working on making a printable for you guys with paraphrases of these verses.  When I figure out Dropbox, I’ll get it to you.

My friends help me think in a way that brings peace.  I surround myself with an atmosphere of peace and guard my territory in any way I can.  I have many friends from different walks of life, but the ones I spend the most time with encourage me in peace and strength.

Last, I rest.  I take care of myself, mind, body and spirit.  A worn out body drags behind and drains mental and emotional energy.

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These are my strategies for keeping fear out, for keeping my castle.  I’m not totally fearless every minute of every day, but I’m so much better than I used to be.

What strategy most resonates with you?  What would you add?  Love your ideas–see you in the comments!