Turns Out I'm Just Like Gideon

I don’t like talking about this. 

It feels like bragging. 

I’d much rather let someone else share the good news while I nod, smile, say thank you, and we all move on.

How do you tell people you won an award (or, um, two) without it sounding cocky or prideful?

I don’t know.

Covert Justice won the 2016 Carol Award for Short Novel and a few months ago it won the 2016 Selah Award for Mystery and Suspense.

Why was that so hard to say? It’s ridiculous really. Especially since my #1 love language is Words of Affirmation. I crave approval the way a kid craves sugar. But even when other people talk about it, it makes me uncomfortable. I appreciate it, but I don’t know what do with it. 

So I’ve been talking to my heavenly Father about it. About why He’s chosen to give me such lovely affirmations and about why I’m simultaneously ecstatic and embarrassed by them.

I don’t have a definitive answer. I may never get one. But this weekend, I got a glimpse, a snippet, a clue into what’s going on. 

Turns out, I’m just like Gideon. 

Two fleeces. Two awards.

Gulp.

You know the story, right? God calls Gideon to a work he doesn’t think he can do, so Gideon asks God to prove it. To prove to Gideon that all of this hasn’t been in his imagination and that He will be with him in battle. Instead of God turning Gideon into a little pile of Gideon dust, God agrees to the test! One night, the fleece is wet and the ground is dry, and still Gideon doesn’t quite believe. The next night, the fleece is dry and the ground is wet. Boom.

I didn’t ask God for a fleece, but I might as well have. He knows my heart. Knows my fears and insecurities. 

Now, I have to wonder if when I sit down to write a new story and am overcome with panic that someone’s going to figure out that I.AM.A.FRAUD.—does God want to grab my face in His holy hands and turn it around until I see those two awards sitting on the mantle? The two awards for a book that I didn’t think I could write. For a book that His fingerprints are all over. For a book that has opened up opportunities for me that I never could have imagined.

Is He waiting for me to finally believe?

Not to believe that I can do anything, but that He can do everything. 

Not to think that I have any reason to boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, but to understand that I have every reason to shout from the rooftops how awesome He is, and to cheerfully and with a peaceful heart move forward into the battle He’s calling me to fight. 

Is He wondering just how much He is going to have to do to convince me?

I wish I could tell you that this realization has left me raring to charge into the fray. That my fingers are twitching with the possibilities. That I’m thrilled to find out how God is going to show up in this next chapter.

But the truth is, I’m still afraid. 

My mouth is dry, my chest is tight. My fear of failure is off the charts.

So I do what I always do. I try to figure it out. I work myself half to death this week and I get caught up. I get caught up on the laundry, the housework, the bills, the school schedule.

And I kid you not…five minutes after I think, “Okay. I’m going to survive this. This is going to work,” I get an email that sends me right back into panic mode.

It’s a good email. A positive one. But it contains marching orders. There’s more to do.

And once more, I wonder why God picked me for this and then I think about Gideon. He figured it out. He gathered his army—and God sent most of them home. We all know why—so no one would ever be able to say he’d won in his own strength. The battle is the Lord’s. He will win it. And anyone watching, anyone listening to the story as it’s told later, will have no choice but to say, “God did that.”

So this is where I am. 

I’m marching into battle armed with a few words and a few ideas and a whole lot of questions. I am terrified, but I know that anything good that has ever happened or ever will happen is because of Him. I am clinging to these words from Thessalonians… “He who calls you is faithful; He will surely do it.” 

If you want to know how you can best support my writing, pray that I will stay close to Jesus and that I will rely on Him to do what only He can.

He’s amazing and when I’m not hyperventilating, I really am excited to see what He’s going to do next.

Thank you for joining me on this wild adventure with Christ.

Grace and peace,

Lynn

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A Writer's Fear

A few weeks ago, I watched a live Adele concert. The lucky people who filled the venue were an enthusiastic audience. There were cheers, applause, and the occasional sing-a-long when she sang a favorite.

I’m a fan so I enjoyed it immensely, but I couldn’t help but be struck by her vulnerability. She stood on the stage and poured herself into each song, even though she wasn’t sure of the response she would get. At one point, she wiped tears from her eyes and told the crowd how nervous she was and how afraid she’d been that they wouldn’t like her new songs.

As I watched, I kept thinking, “She’s Adele for crying out loud! What does she have to be afraid of? How does she not know that people are going to love it?”

When it was over the cameras followed her off the stage, all the way to a waiting elevator where she threw herself into the arms of her boyfriend . . . and sobbed.

It’s an image I’ve been unable to shake.

Even if you aren’t a fan of her music, it’s impossible to deny Adele’s success. Her voice is instantly recognizable. Her songs debut at number one on the charts and stay there for weeks. Even in this digital age, her albums have shattered sales records.

If Adele is still worried about how her music will be received, what does that say for those of us putting our art into the world for the first, second, or third time?

I'm guest posting today over at The Write Conversation. Pop on over there to read the rest of this story. 

And check back next week. I've got some new and (hopefully) fun posts planned for February. :) 

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Already There

Despite the fact that he has never been left and has absolutely no reason to expect me to forget him, one of my children needs constant reassurance that I’m not going to leave him alone.

This summer, I arrived early to pick him up from Vacation Bible School. I took a seat at the side of the room and waited for the session to end. When it did, I moved in his direction. I knew exactly where he was, but the people milling about blocked his view and he couldn’t see me.

I saw him a few seconds before he realized I was there. I wrapped my arms around him just as his face crumpled. I caught him the instant before he let out a wail. He held onto me, his body trembling.

“Where were you?” His tearful voice accused me.
“Baby, I was already here. You couldn’t see me, but I’ve been watching you. I knew exactly where you were the whole time.”
“But I couldn’t see you.”
“Just because you couldn’t see me, doesn’t mean I wasn’t already here.”

Maybe it was because I was standing in a church (I’m kidding), but the Holy Spirit didn’t even let me get the sentence out before He pointed out the obvious.

I DO THE SAME THING.

The Bible is filled with verses exhorting me NOT TO FEAR. Over and over again, He tells me that He will be with me. That He will never leave me. That no matter who betrays me, no matter who bails on me, no matter who breaks me heart, He will be there.

Not only that, but the Bible tells me that BEFORE I walk into that doctor’s office, or pick up the phone, or open the mail . . . No matter what is on the other side of that door, there is one thing I can know for sure I will find.
Him.

Already there.

No matter what my day holds, He is never surprised.

I am.
I get caught flat-footed all the time.
I get the wind knocked out of me at least once a week.
I get overwhelmed just thinking about my calendar.
And even though He’s told me 1000 times that He will never leave me or forsake me, when I don’t see Him right away, I panic.

As I held my little boy close, and whispered assurances to him—again—I had a glimpse into my Father’s heart.
I wasn’t angry with my son for his fear. All I wanted was for him to trust me. To be so sure of me, that he wouldn’t doubt for a second that I had kept my word and was waiting for him.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot ever since.

Separation from God was never part of His plan and my guess is that He knows we will fight this fear until the day He returns and call us Home. I think that’s why He didn’t say, “Don’t be scared,” once and leave it at that. I don’t think He’s surprised when He’s standing right beside me, even as I’m wailing for Him to show up, and He has to tap me on the shoulder to get my attention.

Today...know this...
Whatever you’re afraid of?
He’s already there.


Whatever is keeping you up at night?
He’s already there.

Whatever has your heart racing, your palms sweating, your tears streaming, your stomach churning?
HE. IS. ALREADY. THERE.

If you’re in a pit and you’ve been wondering when He was going to show up, the answer is that He was there BEFORE you got there. He’s with you now and He’s been there the whole time.
Go ahead.
Look around.
And even if you can't see Him, reach for His hand . . . He is already there.

Deuteronomy 31:8 - It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. (ESV)

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Twelve Years Ago, I Was Afraid

Twelve Years Ago, I Was Afraid

I’d given birth to our daughter at 5:22 p.m. The NICU team had gone to work immediately and rushed her away from me.

I didn’t even get to hold her.

A night that should have been filled with joy was tinged with fear.

Knowing what I know now, I could make an argument that I wasn’t nearly as afraid as I should have been.

If I’d known how long it would be before I got to hold my baby girl…

If I’d known how long it would be before we got to take her home…

If I’d known how my hands would tremble on the keys when I searched for Rubinstein-Taybi Syndrome…

If I’d known how my motherhood experience wouldn’t come anywhere close to what I’d thought it would be…

If I’d known how my faith would shatter into a million pieces as everything I thought I knew about God got lost in the long days of specialists and therapies and one missed developmental milestone after another…

If I’d known how hard it would be to be Emma’s mom…

If I’d known what this journey would cost me…

I wasn’t nearly as afraid as I should have been.

BUT

From this place, 12 years in and knowing what I know now, I have to say that I shouldn’t have been as afraid as I was.

Because

God held her when I couldn’t.

God held me while I waited.

God sat with me as I read the description of a diagnosis I never wanted.

God caught the tears that hit the living room floor when the invitations for the playdates didn’t come and all the other kids were walking and talking and saying Mommy while we spent hours in therapy for her to learn how to touch her nose.

God watched as my faith crumbled and He didn’t get mad. Instead, He put my faith back together. 

No longer the faith of a good girl who believed her good behavior would get her in good with a good God. 

No longer a faith in a God I had figured out. 

No longer a faith that made sense.

Because God doesn’t do things the way I think He should. He transcends my understanding of logic and common sense. His scales don’t tip in my favor when I’m good, but always tip in the direction of my eternal good and the eternal good purposes of His Kingdom.

I don’t know what the future holds. Goodness knows there is plenty to fear.

Middle school.

Puberty (shoot.me.now).

Teenage years.

High school.

Adulthood.

The days when the little brothers are off to college and it’s just me and her again, like it was for the first five years before they came along. 

Yeah, looking at that list, I’m afraid.

But I’m not nearly as afraid as I could be.

Because God is already there and there is nothing lurking over the horizon that will not first pass through His loving hands. 

I know this not because a preacher told me. Not even because the Bible tells me so.

I know because I live it. Because every day, He is there. No matter what comes, He is already there. Even, especially, when what comes is something I would have preferred to avoid. 

I know because God cares more about making me more like Him than He cares about whether or not I like Him. 

Because He cares more about my sanctification than my satisfaction. 

Because He’s big enough to handle my fear, my doubt, my anger, my frustration, and understands me even when I throw a temper tantrum about His plans. 

Because God uses scared people all the time.

Because twelve years ago, I was afraid.

Tonight, I’ll close my laptop, and sing a happy birthday goodnight to my Emma. The little girl who rocked my world. The little girl who made me into a much better mommy than I would have been if she hadn’t permanently altered my definition of motherhood. The little girl who drives me insane and brings me indescribable joy. The little girl God designed before the creation of the world to be exactly as she is. The little girl God has big plans for.

The little girl God entrusted to me twelve years ago, even though I was afraid.

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Coming In Last

Coming in last.

I hate it.

Really hate it.

Maybe you do, too?

Have you ever thought about why you hate it?

I have and I’ve boiled it down to a simple statement.

I’m afraid.

Ick.

It’s safer to say that we hate to come in last. It doesn’t sound quite as pitiful as admitting that we’re all grown up and we’re still shaking in our boots.

Afraid we will fail. 

Afraid people will think less of us. 

Afraid we’ll make an idiot out of ourselves. 

Afraid we’ll blow it so badly that others will be able to see our weakness.

For the past year, I’ve faced this fear every single time I walk into Five Forks CrossFit. 

For the first three months, I was so nervous that my stomach would do somersaults from the time I woke up until the WOD was over. In my mind, I had no business joining a CrossFit. I was out of shape, overweight, and not in possession of any particular athletic prowess. 

Truth be told, in the first few weeks, there were multiple events that tempted me to turn tail and run.

• My first week, I fell off a box and messed up my wrist. I came in last.
• For the first month, if the WOD (workout of the day) included burpees, my coach automatically cut the number in half for me. I still came in last.
• As new people joined our box, I watched as they went from not having a clue to killing the WODs. All while I continued to come in last.
• Particularly frustrating were the women, the pregnant and/or brand new moms with 6-week-old babies at home, who lifted more, ran faster, jumped higher, and finished way before me. The girl who finishes last.

Guess what? It’s been a year and I'M STILL COMING IN LAST! Not every time, but a lot of the time. 

But guess what else?

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First Day Fears

First day of 1st grade

Tomorrow is the first day of third grade for my sweet Emma, so I decided to revisit something I wrote two years ago—on the first day of first grade (isn’t there a Veggie Tales song in there?).

**For those of you who might not know, Emma was born with Rubinstein-Taybi Syndrome. As is typical of our RTS-sweeties, her speech is significantly delayed.**

From August 2010…

I was doing OK until it was time for me to leave her. Emma gave me this look that, to me, said "I'm trying to be brave . . . but I don't know about this, Mommy."

I almost lost it.

These are the days when having a child who can't—not just is reluctant to—not just that it's like pulling teeth to get the info—but that cannot tell me about her day could drive me insane. Or maybe to order a peppermint mocha.

I would give anything to know what she is thinking, feeling, and wondering.

Does she understand that school is back in for the year? Does she know that she's going back tomorrow and the next day and the next? Does she wonder where her teachers from the last two years are and why the classroom is different? Did she enjoy her day? Was everyone nice to her? What was her favorite part of the day? Her least favorite?

These are the questions that I never get answers to.



Emma - 2nd Grade Awards Day

So I take them to One who knows the answers. And I beg Him to communicate with her little heart and ease any anxiety she may be feeling. And to give me wisdom to know things I couldn't otherwise know. To show me when to intervene and to give me the good sense to stay out of the way when she's got it under control (as she usually does!).

It helps me to remember that He loves her more than I do.

And that He is holding her safely in His arms.

(As you can see...she not only survived, she thrived!)

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Where Do You Live?

Where do you live?

I don’t mean geographically. I mean day-to-day. Hour-by-hour. Minute-by-minute.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I’ve come to this conclusion.

I live in that murky place where fear and faith collide.

You might not realize this, but I know a few things about fear. I’m not afraid of heights, spiders, small spaces, or long bridges.

I’m afraid of people.

People like you.

I'm not afraid of being in crowds and I don't have panic attacks at the thought of going to a party. But I do spend a ridiculous amount of time worrying about what people think about me. Did they like the last blog post? (Maybe). Did I talk too much at that party? (Probably). Are my clothes so boring that I’m a good candidate for What Not to Wear? (Likely). Am I the butt of many a joke when I’m not around? (Hard to say).

Of course, the most important question is, Why do I care?

I know who I am. I’m a child of the King. I was created in the image of the Most High. Designed by my Maker for a unique purpose in His Kingdom. My personality, likes, dislikes, strengths, and weaknesses are all a part of His master plan.

I know this. In my head.

But my heart struggles to live where faith trumps fear. Every day is a battle between my desire to stay in the boat and the call to step out in faith and walk on the water.

That world out there—out of the boat—is a wild place. There are rip-currents of confusion and tsunamis of criticism. Staying on the water requires faith in and focus on the One who calls.

Sometimes I jump out and run for it before my mind can stop me. Some days I hang onto the sides, heart racing, unable to move.

Most days, I’m right there where my fear and faith collide. I’m out of the boat, but I’m not necessarily on the water. I start strong, but then I waver. I get wet—a lot. I sink, cry out, fall into grace, and time and time again, my Savior steadies my steps and mercifully allows me to try again.

Every blog post, every word of fiction, and every devotion you read that has my name on it is a little piece of me. A visible souvenir of the war between my desire to live hidden and my desire to live obedient.

I don’t know where you live. I don’t know what God’s asking you to do. I don’t know what risks you need to take.

I do know that it's worth it. And if you’d like to share what God is calling you to do in the comments, I’d love to pray with you as we step out in faith together.

Psalm 119:133-135 ~ Keep steady my steps according to your promise, and let no iniquity get dominion over me. Redeem me from man’s oppression that I may keep your precepts. Make your face shine upon your servant , and teach me your statutes. (ESV)

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Thoughtful Thursdays ~ Hit Send

When I left the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference in May of 2010 I overflowed with writerly confidence.

My manuscript had received a positive critique. The words "you're almost ready" had been uttered. I left with marching orders . . . to submit fiction proposals to three agents and one editor.

And I intended to.

As soon as I incorporated all the changes that I now knew I needed to make to my novel. I expected it to take a few months. And it did.

Five months, in fact.

And then life happened. A lot of life.

One planned pregnancy suddenly included many unplanned complications. One wanted new home brought with it much unwanted drama.

And five months turned into six. Then seven. Then twelve. Then fourteen.

Somehow, I had become one of "those" people who never submitted the material that was requested at a conference. It was embarrassing.

And it was too late.

Or was it?

My dear friend and mentor, Edie Melson, said submit. She pointed out that the worst they could say is no. (And let's face it, the odds of that happening are high regardless).

So on Tuesday, I hit send.

I've received emails from two of the people I submitted proposals to. They didn't say "too late" or "this would have been awesome if you'd sent it in a year ago" or "sorry, Charlie."

They said, "Got it. Gonna look at it. We'll be back in touch."

And I thought it was too late.

So what's the lesson here? You can't win if you don't play.

Or in writing terms, you'll never be published if you don't submit.

I'm not expecting to hit a home run my first time at bat. I know rejection is coming and I'm not looking forward to it. I'll need chocolate, and lots of it, to get through this.

But at least now I'm in the game. I'm not sitting on the sidelines "hoping to be published" but not taking any steps to make that dream a reality.

So what are you waiting for?

Did you attend Blue Ridge, Southwest, ACFW, Writing for the Soul, Mt. Hermon or any other conference and did someone ask you to send them a few chapters or a proposal? Did a faculty member suggest you query a certain agent?

It's not too late.

Hit send.

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Mindful Mondays ~ Future Fears

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Deuteronomy 31:8 ~ It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. (ESV)

Some people wish they could know the future.

Not me.

If I spent too much time thinking about my future, I’d lose my mind.

For one thing, there’s so much cancer in my family, I’m a statistic waiting to happen.

Then there's the fact that my husband is a financial advisor. Yes, you read that right. So don't even get me started on the stock market.

And while you may fret over your empty nest—either current or future—I don’t expect my nest to ever be empty. Instead, I prepare to care and provide for a child for many years after my own passing.

And those are just a couple of my “biggies”. You have your own.

I try not to dwell on what my life will look like twenty years from now, but I recently heard about a situation that terrified me. It's one of those things where the consequences of other’s actions could have a significant impact on my life.

My stomach clenched into a knot that I couldn’t shake. I spent an embarrassing amount of time allowing my mind to wander into the future. I imagined one wretched scenario after another. (This is a problem with being a writer—I spend a lot of time making things worse and worse for my characters. When I start doing it to myself, it’s scary).

I eventually gave up and started praying about it. (Yes, I realize I should have started there. And yes, I should know better by now).

As I prayed, these words flew through my mind.

"It is the LORD who goes before you."

I clung to this truth and as I focused on Him, anxiety lost its grip. The potential calamity didn’t change but my fear of it lessened.

In Deuteronomy, God didn’t say the conquering of Canaan would be easy. He didn’t say the Israelites would never face difficulty. He said He would go before them and never leave them. And after He said that, He said, “Do not fear or be dismayed.”

I don’t know what’s looming in your life.

It may be scary. You may be terrified.

But you are not alone.

It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; He will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.

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