Category: Blog

I grew up in a place where most people lived a very simple life. Very few families within our community of 1200 would have been classified as having an upper middle class income and lifestyle. Of course there were those who were educated and had professional careers; some had technical training of some kind and then there were the ones simply born into large, established farming and/or ranching families that afforded them a good living. Neither my mom or dad had a college education nor did they have any technical training and also, neither came from money. Although I didn’t know it at the time, we probably met the classification of the working poor since my dad was a sharecropper and when he wasn’t in the fields, he built grain storage buildings for extra income—he probably never made more than a few dollars an hour.

I’m sure my parents struggled financially but they made sure we had food, a place to live and I had clothing and at least one new pair of shoes for school every year. As a very young child I don’t recall “knowing” we were living a very modest lifestyle but by the time I was 7 or 8, I became aware of the fact that we didn’t have much money. I wasn’t bothered or concerned but I could see there were many who lived much differently than us—some better off some not. I guess the school bus ride each day was the catalyst for this socioeconomic observation. Bus number 3 was my ride to and from elementary school each day but it was the hour ride home each afternoon that etched scenes into my memory that are as clear today as they were all those decades ago as I sat on the bus staring out the window.

Because I lived in a rural, farming community the bus routes contained at least a few treacherous dirt roads that were pocked with huge holes and deep ruts from tires and rain washout. I clearly remember two families who lived at the end of these types of rollercoaster roads. I also clearly remember the jeering and laughter of some of the kids on the bus each day as we pulled up to the shanties that were the homes of these children. They were the children of some of the poorest of the poor in the community and they were mercilessly taunted because of that fact. I remember feeling bad for them and deep down I began to also fear losing what little we had and becoming the fodder for humiliation. Fifty years later I guess I still do.

There existed an interesting dichotomy at this point in my life. As I became cognizant of the differences in socioeconomics so to speak, I also heard over and over how my dad was the kind of man who would “give you the shirt off his back.” I knew the gist concerning this statement. I knew my dad was loved in the community and seen as a man who was willing to help anyone in any way he could. He didn’t have much but he gave anyway. He must have sacrificed his time, effort and perhaps even money to the point that he was known as a shirt off his back kind of guy. I learned wealth isn’t necessary in order to give. A willing heart is.

A recent opportunity to help a friend brought these memories flooding back to the forefront of my mind. In the midst of the situation, I heard the Holy Spirit whisper to my soul, “live a shirt off your back life.” In other words, give sacrificially and often. I doubt my dad had the means to give monetarily at least not often, but he gave what he had—himself. He gave away his compassion, his talents, and his love for others.

I’m afraid even in our Christian community we think more in terms of “if you rub my back, I’ll rub yours” because we fear being taken advantage of. Well there will always be those who take advantage of others’ generosity but we are called to give anyway—I believe we are called to live a shirt off your back life.

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

(Mark 12:41-44 NIV)

Amen.

C. Deni Johnson

“Everybody write down five things about yourself that no one knows.”

Oh how I cringed every time I attended a women’s bible study or gathering for the first time and these words were spoken by the group leader. I knew the basic reasoning behind this exercise—to give everyone a chance to get to know each other a little better—to break the ice as we say.

Of course there are always the women who have such positive and interesting nuggets of information about themselves. You know the ones I’m talking about right? The women who won beauty pageant titles, served in the Peace Corps, backpacked through Europe in college, met their husband while on a mission trip to Africa, worked as a cruise director on a passenger ship, the list goes on.

However, each time I sat staring at my blank piece of paper all I could think about was the shock that would permeate the room if I told five things about myself no one knew. I simply couldn’t get beyond that notion. To write down and tell five facts about myself seemed frivolous at best and honestly, I thought it was dumb. I mean after all, the motive may have been to get people talking but the mere request lends itself to some women bragging and some women feeling unworthy of being a part of the group—an outcast.

Scripture describes a woman like that and to use American vernacular (at least when I was growing up), she wasn’t considered a nice girl. On the contrary, her reputation was ruined and she was relegated to being an outsider among her peers. Hanging out with her would, by association, mean you accepted her mistakes and condoned them. But condemnation was the only acceptable viewpoint in the community and she knew it and accepted her fate. She was ashamed of her actions and she kept to herself. Could she have named five things about herself that no one knew? Perhaps, but everyone knew enough and consequently she was shunned.

However, one simple trip to draw water—a trip she had made hundreds of times—would change her life forever. You see it was customary for women to gather socially to draw water each day. These daily trips to fill water containers may very well have been their only opportunity to talk to each other. Each day was no doubt filled with grueling work—there wasn’t running water from a tap, electric ovens to bake bread or a grocery store to buy staples. Every day began at dawn with a trip to the nearest well and every evening another trip for the day’s last supply of water. So it’s easy to imagine the few minutes walking to the well and waiting to fill their water vessels were perhaps precious moments for conversation. But not everyone was welcome to join this social group. There were stipulations to being a part of this early holy huddle and our unnamed Samaritan girlfriend knew she would never overcome the stigma of her mistakes and be acceptable in their eyes and hearts.

In order to avoid encountering the other women, she waited each day until they were back in their homes which meant she drew her water in the heat of midday. Suffering through the scorching heat was far preferable I’m sure than enduring the cold shoulder or worse from the other women. She didn’t want or need to be reminded of her failures. She was unacceptable and tarnished and she had to live with that fact.

This day was like every other day. She picked up her water pots and headed to the well around noon. As she approached the well she saw a man sitting there and to her dismay he broke a social custom of the time and asked her for a drink of water.

“You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” she asked this stranger who obviously didn’t understand social protocol.

Here’s the rest of the story (John 4:10-30; 29-42 MSG):

Jesus answered, “If you knew the generosity of God and who I am, you would be asking me for a drink, and I would give you fresh, living water.”

The woman said, “Sir, you don’t even have a bucket to draw with, and this well is deep. So how are you going to get this ‘living water’? Are you a better man than our ancestor Jacob, who dug this well and drank from it, he and his sons and livestock, and passed it down to us?”

Jesus said, “Everyone who drinks this water will get thirsty again and again. Anyone who drinks the water I give will never thirst—not ever. The water I give will be an artesian spring within, gushing fountains of endless life.”

The woman said, “Sir, give me this water so I won’t ever get thirsty, won’t ever have to come back to this well again!”

He said, “Go call your husband and then come back.”

“I have no husband,” she said.

“That’s nicely put: ‘I have no husband.’ You’ve had five husbands, and the man you’re living with now isn’t even your husband. You spoke the truth there, sure enough.”

“Oh, so you’re a prophet! Well, tell me this: Our ancestors worshiped God at this mountain, but you Jews insist that Jerusalem is the only place for worship, right?”

“Believe me, woman, the time is coming when you Samaritans will worship the Father neither here at this mountain nor there in Jerusalem. You worship guessing in the dark; we Jews worship in the clear light of day. God’s way of salvation is made available through the Jews. But the time is coming—it has, in fact, come—when what you’re called will not matter and where you go to worship will not matter.

“It’s who you are and the way you live that count before God. Your worship must engage your spirit in the pursuit of truth. That’s the kind of people the Father is out looking for: those who are simply and honestly themselves before him in their worship. God is sheer being itself—Spirit. Those who worship him must do it out of their very being, their spirits, their true selves, in adoration.”

The woman said, “I don’t know about that. I do know that the Messiah is coming. When he arrives, we’ll get the whole story.”

“I am he,” said Jesus. “You don’t have to wait any longer or look any further.”

Just then his disciples came back. They were shocked. They couldn’t believe he was talking with that kind of a woman. No one said what they were all thinking, but their faces showed it.

The woman took the hint and left. In her confusion she left her water pot. Back in the village she told the people, “Come see a man who knew all about the things I did, who knows me inside and out. Do you think this could be the Messiah?” And they went out to see for themselves.

Many of the Samaritans from that village committed themselves to him because of the woman’s witness: “He knew all about the things I did. He knows me inside and out!” They asked him to stay on, so Jesus stayed two days. A lot more people entrusted their lives to him when they heard what he had to say. They said to the woman, “We’re no longer taking this on your say-so. We’ve heard it for ourselves and know it for sure. He’s the Savior of the world!”

Jesus didn’t ask the Samaritan woman to tell him five things about herself He didn’t know. He knew her story and He knows our stories past, present and future. He sees our pain and loneliness. He understands that like the Samaritan woman, we sometimes are shunned by the holy huddles of our day. However, also like the Samaritan woman, Jesus is ready to forgive our iniquities and if we repent and “sin no more” we are redeemed, we are cleansed no longer defined by our past but purified in Christ Jesus. In addition and most importantly, we are instructed to tell others about the healing and freedom we received in Christ. We are essentially filled up to be poured out to others—that’s our role as believers in Christ.

Write down five things about yourself no one knows…well, how about five things about myself I hope you do know about me if you know me personally or follow my blog:

• I am a daughter of the King of Kings
• I am forgiven
• I am restored
• I am loved by God and therefore love deeply
• Even though I falter is some way every day, I ask for forgiveness, pick myself up and in my faith in Christ, I carry on

If like me, the Samaritan woman’s story resonates deeply within you too, go to the well that never runs dry. Don’t waste any more time telling yourself there’s no hope; that you have messed up too much for too long.

“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 hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

Amen.

C. Deni Johnson

Did you, like me, grow up hearing this phrase from parents and teachers, “as long as you do your best, that’s all I ask”? I remember hearing this over and over through my childhood and honestly I never understood what it meant—what was my best?

In my late thirties as I sat in one of my college classes (obviously a non-traditional student) a very sweet professor probably in her late seventies, was discussing an upcoming exam or project when she, as she walked down the aisle, made the “just do your best” statement. She was just inches from me when she said it and I looked up at her and asked, “How do you know when you’ve done your best?” I’ve never forgotten the look on her face although I don’t recall her comment if any, but hearing myself ask the question began my journey of figuring out why I couldn’t personally define it—recognize it for myself.

The dictionary defines the word best as 1) better than all others in quality or value; 2) most skillful, talented or successful. And therein may be why I struggled with the “do your best” idiom. I believe for most of my life I considered my best meant I had to “outshine, out do, be more, do more” the list goes on. Of course, I simply wasn’t talented or brilliant enough to do that—I wasn’t perfect. As crazy as that sounds, I think I equated doing my best with perfection…an unattainable goal.

I began searching deep and praying hard after my confession to my professor that day. I knew there was something driving me to always crave to be the perfect student, wife, mother, friend, daughter, but of course I couldn’t live up to that goal and a sense of failure pervaded over me. But why? From where did this self-imposed, unrealistic mindset derive?

Sifting through my earliest memories from childhood I realized there was a spirit of comparison in my home. I have to stop here and say that my mother did the best she knew how to do and she loved me with all her heart. This is not mother-bashing. This is simply a journey that upon taking, opened my eyes and allowed for some much needed revelation and healing. I’m sharing just a few of these memories not as a poor me, blah, blah, blah but rather to shed light on how, in part, becoming an approval addict can germinate from some very small seeds.

As crazy as it sounds, even though I was an only child I found myself being compared to other girls. Usually girls in our extended family. One cousin in particular (we’ll call her Holly) who is exactly 4 years to the day older than myself, was my mother’s usual choice. Holly’s mother would brag to my mom about how Holly was so helpful around the house. She cleaned off the table after dinner and did the dishes. Holly made straight A’s in school, yada, yada, yada. Year after year I heard what a wonderful, helpful daughter Holly was but of course I also heard in my heart, “why aren’t you more like Holly.” A little later, probably when I was 12 or so, my maternal grandmother began comparing me to another female cousin. This time it wasn’t about how she helped her mother or her grades in school but her height! Every time we were together at my grandmother’s home, she insisted we stand back to back so she could see how much taller this girl was than myself. Trivial sounding isn’t it? It sure didn’t feel trivial to me at the time. It was yet again another reminder that I wasn’t measuring up—this time literally! It was around this time I began the active cycle of comparing my weaknesses to other’s strengths and my flaws to what I perceived as perfections in others. To add insult to injury, someone called me fat in the sixth grade. That seed fueled a lifelong self-image issue and eating disorder.

So by the age of 14 I found myself obsessed with staying thin and making straight A’s in school—two things I believed I could control. I ate very little and would weigh every morning to make sure I had not gained an ounce. I weighed every night several times before going to bed. I’d stay up and exercise and weigh myself until I felt confident of the next morning’s reading on the scale. Combine this activity with the volumes of material I would memorize for tests. I couldn’t risk not making A’s because in my mind, A’s were the only acceptable outcome. I aced tests in every subject—not because I learned the material but because I could picture in my mind the page in the textbook or in my notes, read the answers in my mind’s eye and simply transcribe them to the test. I can recall one of my biggest fears was the teacher losing my test paper. I feared that 10 seconds after turning in my test, I could not have passed the same test again. I had downloaded the information…it was gone. I retained very little because I was only putting it in my short term memory. You see, learning wasn’t the goal. Perfection was the goal. And an “A” or a “100” on a paper or test was proof of perfection—sort of.

The irony of the story is that whenever I would receive awards or accolades regarding my grades, I would always feel slightly undeserving. I knew I wasn’t necessarily smart, just able to memorize tons of information long enough to regurgitate it on a test. I found no deep personal sense of achievement. I didn’t know if I was doing my best or not. I performed…period.

My whole life felt like a performance. I can tell you many times I was labeled as appearing arrogant when actually I was struggling with low self-esteem and the posture I took was one of defense not superiority.

For an approval addict like myself, perfection was defined by someone else’s validation. My best was not an inward sense of giving it my all regardless of the outcome. My best was an outward-seeking endeavor to receive acknowledgment and acceptance.

Funny thing about living your life this way—no one on this earth can provide the inner sense of peace and calmness that comes from knowing deep down that you have done all you can do to the very best of your ability—you simply must lay it down and know it is what it is. And probably most importantly—that’s okay.

The journey has been a long one but I’ve learned to accept myself as God’s masterpiece (Eph. 2:10). I don’t necessarily feel like a work of art every day but I’ve learned to accept that I’m a work in progress and will always be a work in progress and that’s much better than expecting myself to be perfect. Because perfect is a cruel illusion that the enemy will gladly use to rob, steal and destroy (John 10:10). We are all dealing with past and current hurts that run the gambit from insignificant to devastating. That’s why we need a Savior. That’s why we need the Cross. That’s why we need Jesus. Amen.

C. Deni Johnson

“I don’t think she considers you at all.”

This statement made to me many years ago by a friend at church was profoundly insightful at the time albeit painful to hear. Michelle (not her real name) and I had been talking for a few hours over lunch when I got the nerve to ask a question I’d been pondering for a while. I expressed my frustration over not being able to connect with another woman at church and I simply couldn’t understand why she refused to engage in a conversation and seemed to basically ignore me at all costs. I asked Michelle if she thought this particular woman considered me to be “so and so’s” friend and not hers? Without hesitation Michelle simply said, “I don’t think she considers you at all.”

If Michelle knew the impact of her comment that day I’ll never know but I can tell you it did affect me deeply. I had to take a hard look at why I cared if this woman considered me a friend or not. Did I really need to be accepted by everyone—did my sense of significance (worth, importance, value) somehow rely on other people’s acceptance or rejection of me? If the answer was yes then what did that say about my relationship with the Lord? Did I really believe what scripture says about who I am in Christ? If so, why wasn’t that enough? Why did that eight word declarative sentence rock me to the core?

Perhaps the simple answer is that I needed to go on a journey with the Lord and this was the impetus He used to get my attention. That was roughly 20 years ago now. I can tell you I’m still on the journey but thankfully I have made some progress.

First, I had to honestly consider my motive. Why did I care if this woman kept me at arm’s length? This is the painful part—because she was considered important. She was highly esteemed as a “good” girl and incredibly talented in many ways which garnered her many accolades. I saw myself as the antithesis of her. I believe in my mind feeling rejected by her simply validated those personal negative feelings I carried with me everywhere. I told you it was painful—it was also ugly but true. It had nothing to with her, it had everything to do with me and I had work to do. I was in search of significance, healing and forgiveness. Childhood grief combined with years of abuse during my teens and early twenties had taken a toll. The Lord was at work and I was on the threshing floor.

The threshing floor was a place of extrication. God knew I needed freedom from myself. I was my own worst enemy and easy prey for the devil’s relentless attacks. Even though I had physically closed some dark chapters in my life I couldn’t or wouldn’t stop reading the text. I still mentally defined myself as unworthy of love, unworthy of blessings and unworthy of forgiveness.

My story wasn’t pretty and I could never change the facts but the Lord began showing me I was not merely human refuse to be discarded. In spite of circumstances and choices I could have a fresh beginning, I could still be used in the Kingdom of God. What I considered as “deal breaker mistakes” forever condemning me to self-define as being less than, the Lord began revealing through His Word that He didn’t see me that way. I was and am His creation worthy of His love and His forgiveness—I am significant to Him.

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:29-31 ESV)

Christ had already redeemed all my iniquities—past, present and future. Thankfully, He no longer considered them at all…

C. Deni Johnson

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you are upset or just plain angry and instead of choosing to stay quiet you choose to express your dissatisfaction quite boldly? You are conscious of what’s coming out of your mouth and know you need to just shut up but the faucet is turned on full throttle and the emotion is pouring out and filling up the room. I hate it when I do that! In those moments I guess I convince myself my words are justified and therefore acceptable. They aren’t.

I found myself doing this very thing just a few days ago. Frustration and disappointment rushed over me and I spewed my feelings on a couple of unsuspecting girlfriends—not directed at them but to them. Nonetheless, I’m sure they felt attacked by my behavior. In those moments I let myself get all wrapped up in myself and how I felt—this doesn’t make for a good outcome.

By the next morning, I was feeling convicted about my lack of judgment. I had allowed my emotions to override my good sense and a serving of humble pie was on the menu. Apologies were offered and accepted. The situation that fueled my frustration isn’t resolved but I’m letting it go. All I can do is be obedient to what the Lord wants to me do. If I let other people’s actions or lack of action frustrate or anger me then spew those feelings on innocent bystanders—well, which is worse? My actions or theirs? Probably mine. Luckily, I hear humble pie is low in sugar.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control… Galatians 5:22-23

C. Deni Johnson

“He knows everything about me.” This is a statement a young woman recently said to me as she was trying to justify to herself why she should allow the father of her child back into their lives. A man who has a known drug issue, has spent time in jail and currently has a warrant out for his arrest. This is the same man my friend fought successfully a year ago to have his parental rights terminated because he never paid child support and rarely made an attempt to see his child.

On the surface it seems pretty cut and dry to me and probably to you also. As I sat and listened to her talk I was dumbfounded. From my perspective, this is a “no brainer” decision. No way should she step back into this man’s world.

This young woman has come so far in her journey with the Lord. She has made so much progress at least that’s what I thought. She has been given new direction filled with hope and promise of a better life for herself and her child. But she’s on the brink of walking back into the muck and mire. Why?

After a lot of prayer and going back over her words in my head I think the real reason is that she’s never fully accepted her new identity in Christ. I can relate. I too kept walking back into the pit for many years because deep down I guess I believed that’s where I belonged. Actually accepting the fact that I was a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17) was too difficult; it seemed too simple to be true. Accepting my identity in Christ eluded me for years. I could not or would not grasp the concept of its simplicity and continued to feel unworthy of a fresh start. Surely there was more to it than that but there isn’t.

I believe the further we climb into a sinful pit the harder the climb out becomes in our minds. The enemy has so much ammunition so to speak to use to convince us we have gone too far, that we must accept our lot in life as pit-dwellers. The fear of actually accepting a new given purity in Christ is difficult to fathom. Jesus says take my hand and I’ll pull you up out of the pit and give you a new life. Satan says no one will accept you up there, it’s safer in the pit where everyone knows what you’ve done; you aren’t rejected here.

And there it is—fear of rejection. We shudder at the thought of full disclosure. What if I meet someone who seems to be the kind of person I’ve only dreamed about having in my life and what if he can’t handle what I’ve done and walks away? I can tell you anyone who has spent time in the pit fears the confirmation by non-pit-dwellers that indeed we are less than, unworthy of acceptance by “good” people because of the choices we’ve made. I’ve come to believe given my own past and listening to the stories of many women over the years, this is a key factor in the decision to remain in the mire instead of walking in the light. We tell ourselves that if we stay connected to the people who are living in the ditch with us, we don’t feel judged and there’s no disclosure because they’ve personally witnessed it all or at least a lot—it feels safe. It isn’t.

Jesus didn’t die on the cross so you and I would continue to wander in the bar ditches of this world. No, He died on a cross for all my sins and all your sins, past/present/and future. Not just the fluffy stuff but the nasty stuff too. Girlfriend, you are two decisions away from changing your todays and tomorrows. The most important decision is to accept Christ as your personal savior if you have never done so. If you are a born again believer, the next decision is to accept your new identity in Christ. I wish I could tell you how easy the latter of these decisions is but as stated earlier, it is not. Accepting our value as daughters of the King is a moment-to-moment decision we make daily for the rest of our lives.

As the journey from the bar ditch to the paved road of freedom begins, two things may happen. First, people in the ditch will envy our desire for something different and may turn on us and attempt to make us feel arrogant and lofty for wanting a better way of life. Secondly, we may very well encounter other Christians who are shocked by our stories and for a moment, all our fears regarding rejection and lack of worth flood over us like a typhoon. Unfortunately, many of us who have climbed up out of our pits have experienced rejection in the church. The key, in my opinion, is to be very careful who we offer full disclosure to, not everyone can handle our past and that’s okay. Either way, don’t look back, don’t turn back. Don’t let anyone pull you back into the muck and mire or push you back into it.

“He knows everything about me” is a true statement. However, the he is Christ. He does know everything about each of us and He still loves us unconditionally. He knew us before we were born (Psalm 139:13) and He says we are his work of art, his masterpiece. (Ephesians 2:10)

Dare to leave the past behind once and for all time. Learn from it, serve others from it but don’t be a slave to it. We are redeemed, restored and called to walk the path Jesus has set forth for us not crawl in the ditch. Amen!

C. Deni Johnson

 

 

Two of my closest girlfriends and I try to get away for a girls-only weekend at least once a year. Most of the time we rent a car for the trip and I’m the DD—designated driver—there and back and for all points in between.

This year we found ourselves joking about how hard it is to be a passenger in a car with certain drivers. I took great delight in describing a few of my husband’s driving habits and how those habits drive me crazy. I found myself saying I’d much rather drive than ride—I believe my words were “I’m a much better driver than passenger.”

The day following our return, I exchanged a text message with one of the girls who went with me on the trip. She thanked me again for driving especially with the bad traffic and weather we encountered on our way home. Without hesitation I texted back my little mantra about preferring to drive and then it happened—just as I hit send on my phone—I heard the Holy Spirit say, “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You always want to be in the driver’s seat—the designated driver of your life. That’s God’s seat not yours.”

It’s true. I find it very difficult to simply trust and let someone else take the wheel—even my Heavenly Father. Sometimes my daily Christian walk mirrors my driving preference—I designate myself as the one to steer, speed up or slow down, come to a complete stop or turn around! I ask you, how egotistical is that?

Thank you Holy Spirit for reminding me so clearly who really IS in control of my life. As a believer I don’t have the right to sit in the driver’s seat because when I do sit there, I make wrong turns that create detours I am ill-prepared to navigate. Father God, I do want you to be my designated driver. I don’t want to delay the blessings You desire to provide because of my stubborn disobedience and lack of trust.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.  Proverbs 3:5-6

C. Deni Johnson

Pride lands you flat on your face; humility prepares you for honors. Proverbs 29:25 (MSG)

While on my way back home from the grocery store one of my closest friends called. We hadn’t talked in almost three weeks so I certainly welcomed the opportunity to catch up. I’m not sure what Sharon said but within 30 seconds of our initial hello, I found myself exclaiming “I’m a fairly intelligent woman surely I can do something more productive than be a crossing guard!” My voice broke as the tears streamed down my face.

Fast forward two hours and now I’m at my post for my afternoon crossing guard shift. A young mom on her way to the school walks by and comments about how nice it is that I have some shade to stand in as I wait on the students to be dismissed from school. I tell her I probably wouldn’t be standing there if not for the shade (not true, I wouldn’t have a choice). Then she asks if I get paid or am I a volunteer? My immediate response—“I get paid, I have a college education, this is just an in between jobs thing.” In that moment, like a voice over the loud speaker of my soul, the Holy Spirit said, “you have an issue with pride; you’ve asked why you are still in this job and why you haven’t felt released from it—learn your lesson and you may move on.”

Pride issues? Me? But I tend to struggle with such a sense of inadequacy, how could I have issues with pride? The answer—it’s very easy. I began to pray asking the Lord to reveal the lesson(s) He wanted me to learn. As the next few days unfolded, I found myself on a journey back in time. The Holy Spirit reminded me of three distinct vignettes, three snapshots of occasions when I felt inferior. I was confused about the process at first but as the days went by the reasoning behind His approach became clear.

As an only child living on a farm, my world was very small. I had my parents, my pets and my make-believe friends. I usually saw other family members two to three times a month and other than that, I did not play with other children and rarely interacted with anyone else. I was (still am) a dreamer; extremely sensitive and it took only a stern look to cause me to obey or withdraw. I remember even as a small child desiring to please my parents and anyone in authority for that matter, I felt a huge responsibility to not disappointment them. Clearly, I was sheltered, practically isolated, for the first six years of my life. However, that all changed when I started school and that’s where the Holy Spirit began our journey together. He stopped the rewind button and hit play starting here…

First grade was a traumatic year on many levels but the most severe was the fact I was sick the entire year. Having rarely interacted with other children up to that point I was susceptible to every cold germ and was absent at least one or two days a week. Not a great start. Back then, removing a child’s tonsils was the normal remedy so I had my tonsils removed between first and second grade. The good news was that seemed to alleviate the constant illness, the bad news, I began getting a little chunky—more on this topic a little later.

Even though I was absent so much in first grade I was promoted to the second grade. I don’t remember much about the second grade except for my reading class. The reason I remember it is because this is the first time I recall feeling inferior. Even though I had a love for books and can remember sitting down with the dictionary just to read through the words and definitions (yes I was weird) I apparently did not meet certain second grade reading standards. At the beginning of the year, the teacher divided the class into three distinct groups. The “A” group which consisted of the best readers in our class, the “B” group was for good readers and the “C” group was for those deemed the slowest readers of the class. Any guesses as to which group I was slotted into? You got it—the C group. Do I think this was a deliberate attempt by my teacher to make those of us in the C group feel inferior? Of course not, but as a seven year old sitting there in the back of that dingy auditorium at the table with my C group companions I felt less than for the first time. I inwardly vowed to never be classified as a slow or inferior reader again. Fortunately, in time, I did overcome my apparent reading deficiency. But little did I know that yet another personal imperfection would be brought to my attention. It was just a simple statement but it packed a punch that I still struggle with today.

Remember earlier how I said after my tonsils were removed I started gaining some weight? Well after being so ill for almost a year, I needed to gain some weight but I did get a little heavy. I was the girl who had to walk past the racks of clothing made for regular sized girls and look for the clothing labeled husky. I was the only Campfire Girl in my group with a skirt that was well below her knees because I needed one big enough to go around my waist so of course it was much longer than the other girls’ skirts. I knew I was heavy compared to most of the girls my age; however, I don’t recall ever seeing myself as fat or unattractive during that time but that was about to change forever.

It was sixth grade and we were at recess. There were four or five of us including my cousin, Jimmy. I can still see exactly where we were and 45+ years later, I could take you to that exact spot today. I have no idea what was being discussed but at one point, Jimmy, whom I adored, looked at me and said “you’re fat.” Everyone chuckled and I stood there stunned. I couldn’t believe someone whom I cared about so much had said something so hurtful. I was crushed and embarrassed. That day a seed was planted and a few years later it took root. All through my teen years I suffered with a serious eating disorder. At fourteen, I was 5 feet 5 inches tall and weighed 101 pounds. I received lots of compliments on my appearance and, most importantly, I knew I had my mother’s approval concerning my weight because now she loved to take me shopping for cute, size 5 jeans. I was so determined not to gain even a pound I would stay up and exercise every night until the scale said I weighed no more than 102 pounds. It didn’t matter how late I had to stay up exercising. I would not go to bed until I was confident the bathroom scale would read no more than 101 (and preferably less) the next morning. I vowed to never be heavy again; no one would ever look at me and say I’m fat.

High school proved to be one of the most difficult seasons of my life. My dad had died, my mother had remarried an alcoholic and my life had been catapulted in directions I was ill-prepared to navigate. Enter my high school boyfriend.

Dating in high school is an exciting journey most teenagers look forward to experiencing and I was no exception. So when one of the most popular boys in our class asked me on a date I was thrilled. For the first several months we dated we really enjoyed each other’s company and after a while we didn’t really hang out with other friends anymore. Little by little our relationship became very exclusive and dangerous. I was vulnerable, he was cruel. The abuse began very slowly and at first there were always pleas for forgiveness and promises of change. Then there was just abuse, verbal at first, then physical. There came a point when he no longer asked for forgiveness and I knew there would never be any change. By the grace of God I finally after 10 years, found the courage to walk away physically and emotionally and stay away. I was just a shell of a person. My self-esteem was fractured. I was scarred emotionally and physically. I vowed to never allow anyone to rob me of my dignity again.

At this lowest point in my life, Christ met where I was and began the healing process in me. And a process it was (and still is). The walls I had erected around myself emotionally were thick but ironically, I had no real sense of personal boundaries. A deep sense of inadequacy and desperation had become so ordinary I wore them like a comfy sweater. My life was off-balance and I teetered on the brink of self-destruction. It took years and many tears but the Lord was faithful through each tiny step I took toward Him. He showed me I was a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17); I was acceptable in His sight (Romans 15:7); and I learned to accept His grace and see myself as worthy of being loved and most importantly, I was worthy of His love and forgiveness.

So you may be asking, “okay, what does all this have to do with the pride thing and what’s the lesson?” I’m glad you asked. I believe the lesson I needed to learn and maybe it applies to you also, is although I thought I had accepted the transformation of my mind (Romans 12:2) in this area, I had not. Yes, I have allowed the Lord to do a work in my life concerning how I see or define my self-worth but there was still work to do; a layer to shed light on. I believe the Holy Spirit revealed my issue isn’t that I still define myself as inferior or inadequate—I have found freedom through Him for that—but rather, I worry others may label me that way. Bingo!

This may seem like a small detail to you but it was a personal revelation for me. I’ve had to admit to myself and the Lord that deep down I’ve clung to a need to “stand up” for myself if I perceived someone might consider me unintelligent, i.e.—inferior. In an attempt to sidestep my pride issue I had become very good at re-labeling it with words like self-respect, self-worth and self-confidence—note they all begin with “self” and left unchecked, all are just a fine line away from self-importance.

The ultimate lesson learned: the Lord esteems those who are humble and contrite in spirit (Isa 66:2). God honors our humility. He wants our focus to be on Him; allowing Him to tell us who we are—not the world. As long as I keep my focus on the Lord I won’t have the time or the inclination to focus on what others may think. My confidence is found in Him not my own intelligence, appearance or in the acceptance of others. Pride says stand up but my Heavenly Father says take a knee…He’s in control—yesterday, today and tomorrow. Amen.

C. Deni Johnson

 

“I looked for someone among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap…”   Ezekiel 22:30 (NIV)

Have you ever said yes to a ministry opportunity and then very quickly realized you may have made a mistake?

I wish I could say that situation just never happens to me because I pray through every decision and completely wait upon the Holy Spirit’s prompting and guidance. However, if I’m honest, I have to admit there have been times when I said yes knowing in my heart my answer should be no.

The most recent ministry experience that seemed to initially fall under this category for me was very different. When first approached with the opportunity to serve in this ministry I said I would pray about it—a good start. And I did pray and seek the Lord. I had received another request from another ministry leader at about the same time for a much different role and I responded with “I will pray about it.” Another good and truthful reply—I did pray about both opportunities and ultimately believed I had my answer. I knew which one I would accept and which one I would decline.

It wasn’t long before I found myself questioning my decision and wondering if I really heard from the Lord.

I’m sure I’m not alone with these doubts especially for those of us who believe we are being obedient only to find ourselves in the midst of a very painful ministry situation. When ministry is painful and every effort appears to be just one more failure it’s hard to not doubt. I mean we talk about the joy of ministry and we know how good we feel when we are making a difference—when we know we are being used by the Lord as a way for Him to reach others. So where does that leave us when everything about our experience leaves us feeling defeated, rejected and seeing ourselves as a failure?

Perhaps the answer is the Lord needed us to be a gap-filler—called to bridge a gap created by someone else. Maybe it’s not that we didn’t hear and obey the Holy Spirit—we did. We were obedient and just because the experience was personally painful, doesn’t mean we failed. We simply persevered. And although our efforts appeared to us to be in vain; we must trust that God makes no mistakes and if we served Him with a pure heart and a pure motive then His will was done. It doesn’t matter that we aren’t skipping away from the encounter feeling really good about our experience—it only matters that we were obedient. And it’s in our obedience that we truly see the hand of God in our lives—sometimes He’s pruning away something that needs to go but sometimes He’s taking us to a place of peace and communion with Him we’ve never experienced before. Sometimes it’s both.

C. Deni Johnson

Recently I had the privilege to co-lead a small, intimate overnight retreat for six young women ranging in age from 24 to 35. As our evening began to unfold and everyone began engaging in conversation a common thread emerged among these girls. We were talking about trusting the Lord and how trust is a difficult thing for many of us—especially those of us who struggle with being control freaks.

As the conversation deepened, one of the girls said she believes her trust issues derive from her relationship with her dad or the lack thereof. Another girl quickly chimed in that she too believes her battle with trusting others as well as the Lord is at least partially due to her dad not being a part of her life. Every girl seemed to agree either in theory or personally that not having her dad in her life or not having a loving, trusting relationship with her dad has or would impact her ability to trust others—even the Lord.

I wasn’t surprised by these analogies given my dad was killed in a car accident when I was 12 years old and my life was radically changed from that moment forward. I know personally how important a dad’s love is and how difficult it is to grow up without the guidance and love of your dad. So, is there a correlation between losing, not ever knowing or not having a good relationship with our earthly fathers and the ability to trust our Heavenly Father and others?

There is no doubt in my mind our life experiences mold and shape each of us and we are to some extent the sum total of those experiences. We learn to avoid or seek out certain circumstances and people depending upon past experiences and relationships. But if we just focus on one important relationship the father/daughter bond, I believe there is an innate desire within every little girl to be the apple of her daddy’s eye. In other words, we desire to feel important to and protected by—I believe we first desire these two things from our earthly dads and ultimately must seek and accept them from our Heavenly Father.

“Keep me as the apple of your eye, hide me in the shadow of your wings.” (Psalm 17:8)

So does the relationship between a girl and her dad have a permanent impact on her ability to trust others and most importantly, the Lord? Are we doomed to walk this earth fearful, unable to trust anyone even Jesus, if we didn’t have our dad in our lives growing up, or he was there but absent/not engaged or he was abusive, critical, overbearing? Thankfully the answer is no.

No matter how difficult or heartbreaking the relationship was/is with our dad, we must decide to move beyond the brokenness and stop embracing it. I’m not saying block it out and pretend it didn’t happen—just the opposite. I’m saying we have to make a daily decision to embrace who we are in Christ. We are not alone. We are not fatherless (Psalm 68:5), our Heavenly Father is, always has been and always will be our protector; we are important to Him—as a believer we are His child!

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord watches over you—the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore. (Psalm 121:1-8)

One final thought…one of the most important things we must do whether our dad is alive or not is to forgive him. Forgive him for dying (Yes, I had to do that. Sounds crazy but I was angry for years after he died), forgive him for leaving your family and not being a part of your life, forgive him for his shortcomings as a dad, perhaps you must forgive him for abusing you in ways you simply can’t talk about. Whatever it was or is—forgive him.

Next, understand our significance, acceptance, security and ability to trust comes from the Lord. So if like me, you struggle with any or all of these issues, Jesus is waiting to transform your life.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. (Proverbs 3:5-6)

Those who know your name trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you. (Psalm 9:10)

The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him. (Psalm 28:7)

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12:2)

C. Deni Johnson