HIStory
I saw this image in my feed and then 3 hours later….
2,237 words came to mind. Here’s my heart. It’s been a minute…
Today I sat here, truly hoping to be productive, but I struggled to get anything significant done. I’ve been praying for a few friends all day. I would catch myself feeling (literally) something—an emotion, a heaviness, anxiousness, confusion—all unsettling feelings because I couldn’t recognize them as my own. People would come to mind, and I would pray. Then I’d be able to move on, but only for a bit before the next feeling hit.
At one point in my scrambling to complete anything of value off my “to-do” list, I came across my writing binder. As I opened to the first page, my eyes filled with tears. This binder, two inches thick with pages filled front and back with typed words I’d written over a two-year period. Another notebook held a song I wanted to include in my book—the intro, the words I’d written inside—and a poem I’d written, both sounding nothing like the person struggling to put pen to paper these days. Where did that girl go? By now, I thought I’d have at least one book published and perhaps be working on another. Yet I sit here, with what feels like writer’s block most days, trying to figure out how to be a better business owner—struggling to see just how God is going to make it work—all the while knowing, with all my heart, that I am right where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.
There are two things I have always been passionate about—writing and people; one taking a backseat to the other while the Lord teaches me more about each. I picked up my phone to do a little mindless scrolling, and the first thing I saw was this:
I asked God once, “Lord, how can you use me? I am a broken man.” He replied, “I am sending you to other broken people. They cannot hear those who aren’t broken. But they can hear you.”
I had a goldfish that jumped out of its bowl when I was a kid… that’s how I feel more often than I’d like to admit—like a fish out of water. I feel so out of place and misunderstood at times. Then God does something to show me I’m right where I’m supposed to be… I call those moments “God winks.” I feel like I need a ton more of those lately because it gets harder to just walk along without feeling like that “outsider” my t-shirt says I am.
It’s now been nearly four years since I moved to Potosi. In that time, my life has changed so much. I went from doing jobs I’d never done and using tools I’d never used before to leaving all jobs, feeling like the Lord was leading me somewhere else, only to have Him keep me right where I’m at. I found myself working again, doing what I knew best—making a living for myself, then spending it all to do something I never expected to do… open up a little shop. He gave me the vision for it all—the resources, earned from all the hard work I’d been putting in at my job—and then He asked me to trust Him with it… and I have ever since. I’ve watched and waited… waited and watched, as the Lord transformed a vision He gave me into a dream I never even knew I had.
So much of what He’s shown me is coming to pass, yet there’s still uncertainty, an unsettledness in my spirit—like this is simply a starting point, training for what He’s leading me to next. Is it to another place? Another level? I trust Him, and I trust the process, but He’s still not filling in all the answers.
Years back, someone spoke a prophetic word over me. She said God was showing her a big future for me and it would be in writing. Not just writing—but publishing. I would not only be published, but I would help publish others. But before this was to come to pass, she explained, four things would happen. Two had already occurred, but two more still had to happen. Every significant, difficult time in life since then, I’ve found myself wondering, “Is this it? Is what she said coming to pass soon?”
Then… crickets.
She said something else that I’ve never been able to shake because it was as if she was inside my head. She said that my life was like a crossword puzzle, yet God wasn’t giving me any of the clues—He was just filling it in as I went. He’s still filling in the blanks today, without any clues, connecting the words to one another vertically, horizontally, and what sometimes feels like diagonally… in a way only possible when God is creating the puzzle.
He’s not helping me establish any roots here, just this little shop. But as much work as I do and hours as I put in for this little slice of Heaven on earth (as it feels to me), it hasn’t felt like a job at all—more like a mission that I don’t ever see coming to completion. Yes, I believe opening this shop and filling me with this deep passion for it isn’t just part of my story—it’s a pause from the rest of it while I gain the wisdom and tools I need to walk into, as Paul Harvey would say…the rest of the story. I believe this is the fourth thing. And that on the other side of this learning experience, until I’ve learned to completely let go and let God, I’ll be skating by, squirrels everywhere, saying “yes” too often and “no” not often enough… not to others, but to myself. Taking on too much to please others almost as much as I take on to please Him. The two shouldn’t even be close to equal. But as humans, we can be people pleasers. I want to be different. I want to be a world-changer who never “fits” into this world at all.
This. This, my friends, is what all these words are about. Just like the hundreds of thousands of words I wrote a couple of years ago—and millions I’ve written in my 44 years—God has used my putting pen to paper in obedience as a way to speak to me. Want discernment, Amy? Stop what you’re doing, turn that song on repeat, pick up a pen and paper, then write until it all makes sense.
Less people-pleasing, more God-pleasing equals a life lived on purpose, for a greater purpose.
He fills me with such a fire when it comes to everything and everyone He brings to the shop—a desire to serve and supply, yet even more, to simply BE. I think back on two things: the first being the burden taken on for others. Yes, it’s exhausting. I can’t choose whose weight to carry, but I know as soon as they walk into my life who they are. I wonder if Jesus felt any of that weight He carried to the cross for us? The weight He’s willing to carry for us every day since. Yet we just leave it there instead of allowing Him to lift it off our shoulders or remembering He carried it long ago so we didn’t have to. I’m there—handing it over to Him now—because it’s becoming exhausting, trying to carry it all.
Did you know we’re not meant to carry any of it? His Word says, the joy of the Lord is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10), and His strength is made perfect in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). So in those times that feel heavy, we can be weak, yet feel strong.
Gosh, He’s so good.
And back to that image I saw on a friend’s page…
Last week at church, we got into small groups after the message to discuss four questions. Between the six of us, we barely made it through two of them! As we went around the circle, each of the guys were telling about the hurdles they’ve come to when trying to share their testimony. When it came time for me to answer, I found myself tearing up as I spoke about wanting to help others who have been—or are—going through some of the same things I have. But I find myself having reservations because, by sharing my testimony, I could be hurting someone else. Even though some of those people have hurt me, I don’t want to hurt them by sharing how they hurt me.
I was stopped mid-sentence with these words that I can only paraphrase, because I feel like they came straight from the Lord through the mouth of one of His sons: “Amy, you have to share your testimony because you’re the only one who can. God allowed you to be hurt and go through what you did so you could help someone else who needs to know how you made it through [because they can’t see any other way]. God gave you that story to tell, and I’ll (we’ll) be praying He gives you the chance to do it.”
I’m not sure if many of you know, but twice a month, the service I attend Monday evenings is at Bonne Terre prison—a place we go to show the love of Christ, yet He shows up, showing His love for us like He did for me in that moment. I know I’m not the only one who shows up to serve Monday evenings who feels like they leave with much more than they came with either!
Maybe God has closed off my writing because He’s trying to get me to share what He’s been helping me write through the letters of my life. And just like that, a verse I wrote down from this morning’s devotion comes full circle:
Clearly, you are a letter from Christ showing the result of our ministry among you. This “letter” is written not with pen and ink, but with the Spirit of the Living God. It is carved not on tablets of stone, but on human hearts. 2 Corinthians 3:3 (NLT)
The reflection in the mirror looks different when she looks back at me—because she is different. For years, she’s been hiding in the prison of her own mind, struggling to make her feelings match her faith. All this time, all these struggles, giving it to God, taking it back—while trusting Him, but not completely. As hard as it is to admit, a piece of me is always holding onto a small thread… but instead of a thread of the past, it should be the thread of His garment!
As I near the end of the longest piece I’ve written in some time, I can’t help but feel like the time is coming. The Lord is doing something in me that’s helping me to see where I’ve been holding back. While I thought I knew why, I wasn’t seeing where I’d been leaving breadcrumbs all along. He didn’t say for us to take up our cross daily to follow Him but leave some breadcrumbs in case we want to find our way backward, did He?!
I shared with someone the other day something I had once said to a friend many years ago and that is, people need to earn the right to hear your testimony, to know who you really used to be. Why? Because some people can’t unhear what you tell them. They will judge you and talk about how no one can change “that much.” But can I tell you something? The right people…the broken people…they’ll hear you loud and clear. And your story? It will turn into HIStory!
Father God, thank You for every single thing You’ve brought me through – good, bad, difficult, easy, exciting, scary, heartbreaking and heartwarming. Every day is one more reason to trust You because I’m here despite things in my past that say I shouldn’t be; some of my own doing, some out of my control. Lord, I ask You to use me. Keep me here, send me elsewhere, plant my roots in the ground, or simply ground me momentarily until you’re ready to move me. Help me to always be obedient to Your direction, even when it seems absurd and out of the blue. Help me to learn what I should in the here and now as You equip me for what You’re calling me to [next]. I’m sorry I get lost in my thoughts and sometimes concern myself with what people think over the passions You have placed inside of me. Give me opportunities, Divine appointments to share my testimony and, when You do, give me the confidence to speak it boldly. Help me to be present, to be at peace, and to be ready, willing, and able to step into this next season…I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one! Father, please protect me from the enemy who is only out to steal, kill and destroy. Shut the mouths of those who don’t speak the truth and close the ears to those who just won’t understand. And finally, Lord, surround me with angels to protect me and fill me with the boldness that comes with knowing You’ve already gone before me to prepare a way, even when there appears to be none. Thank You, Father. I love You. In Jesus’ Name I pray, Amen.
2,237 words came to mind. Here’s my heart. It’s been a minute…
Today I sat here, truly hoping to be productive, but I struggled to get anything significant done. I’ve been praying for a few friends all day. I would catch myself feeling (literally) something—an emotion, a heaviness, anxiousness, confusion—all unsettling feelings because I couldn’t recognize them as my own. People would come to mind, and I would pray. Then I’d be able to move on, but only for a bit before the next feeling hit.
At one point in my scrambling to complete anything of value off my “to-do” list, I came across my writing binder. As I opened to the first page, my eyes filled with tears. This binder, two inches thick with pages filled front and back with typed words I’d written over a two-year period. Another notebook held a song I wanted to include in my book—the intro, the words I’d written inside—and a poem I’d written, both sounding nothing like the person struggling to put pen to paper these days. Where did that girl go? By now, I thought I’d have at least one book published and perhaps be working on another. Yet I sit here, with what feels like writer’s block most days, trying to figure out how to be a better business owner—struggling to see just how God is going to make it work—all the while knowing, with all my heart, that I am right where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.
There are two things I have always been passionate about—writing and people; one taking a backseat to the other while the Lord teaches me more about each. I picked up my phone to do a little mindless scrolling, and the first thing I saw was this:
I asked God once, “Lord, how can you use me? I am a broken man.” He replied, “I am sending you to other broken people. They cannot hear those who aren’t broken. But they can hear you.”
I had a goldfish that jumped out of its bowl when I was a kid… that’s how I feel more often than I’d like to admit—like a fish out of water. I feel so out of place and misunderstood at times. Then God does something to show me I’m right where I’m supposed to be… I call those moments “God winks.” I feel like I need a ton more of those lately because it gets harder to just walk along without feeling like that “outsider” my t-shirt says I am.
It’s now been nearly four years since I moved to Potosi. In that time, my life has changed so much. I went from doing jobs I’d never done and using tools I’d never used before to leaving all jobs, feeling like the Lord was leading me somewhere else, only to have Him keep me right where I’m at. I found myself working again, doing what I knew best—making a living for myself, then spending it all to do something I never expected to do… open up a little shop. He gave me the vision for it all—the resources, earned from all the hard work I’d been putting in at my job—and then He asked me to trust Him with it… and I have ever since. I’ve watched and waited… waited and watched, as the Lord transformed a vision He gave me into a dream I never even knew I had.
So much of what He’s shown me is coming to pass, yet there’s still uncertainty, an unsettledness in my spirit—like this is simply a starting point, training for what He’s leading me to next. Is it to another place? Another level? I trust Him, and I trust the process, but He’s still not filling in all the answers.
Years back, someone spoke a prophetic word over me. She said God was showing her a big future for me and it would be in writing. Not just writing—but publishing. I would not only be published, but I would help publish others. But before this was to come to pass, she explained, four things would happen. Two had already occurred, but two more still had to happen. Every significant, difficult time in life since then, I’ve found myself wondering, “Is this it? Is what she said coming to pass soon?”
Then… crickets.
She said something else that I’ve never been able to shake because it was as if she was inside my head. She said that my life was like a crossword puzzle, yet God wasn’t giving me any of the clues—He was just filling it in as I went. He’s still filling in the blanks today, without any clues, connecting the words to one another vertically, horizontally, and what sometimes feels like diagonally… in a way only possible when God is creating the puzzle.
He’s not helping me establish any roots here, just this little shop. But as much work as I do and hours as I put in for this little slice of Heaven on earth (as it feels to me), it hasn’t felt like a job at all—more like a mission that I don’t ever see coming to completion. Yes, I believe opening this shop and filling me with this deep passion for it isn’t just part of my story—it’s a pause from the rest of it while I gain the wisdom and tools I need to walk into, as Paul Harvey would say…the rest of the story. I believe this is the fourth thing. And that on the other side of this learning experience, until I’ve learned to completely let go and let God, I’ll be skating by, squirrels everywhere, saying “yes” too often and “no” not often enough… not to others, but to myself. Taking on too much to please others almost as much as I take on to please Him. The two shouldn’t even be close to equal. But as humans, we can be people pleasers. I want to be different. I want to be a world-changer who never “fits” into this world at all.
This. This, my friends, is what all these words are about. Just like the hundreds of thousands of words I wrote a couple of years ago—and millions I’ve written in my 44 years—God has used my putting pen to paper in obedience as a way to speak to me. Want discernment, Amy? Stop what you’re doing, turn that song on repeat, pick up a pen and paper, then write until it all makes sense.
Less people-pleasing, more God-pleasing equals a life lived on purpose, for a greater purpose.
He fills me with such a fire when it comes to everything and everyone He brings to the shop—a desire to serve and supply, yet even more, to simply BE. I think back on two things: the first being the burden taken on for others. Yes, it’s exhausting. I can’t choose whose weight to carry, but I know as soon as they walk into my life who they are. I wonder if Jesus felt any of that weight He carried to the cross for us? The weight He’s willing to carry for us every day since. Yet we just leave it there instead of allowing Him to lift it off our shoulders or remembering He carried it long ago so we didn’t have to. I’m there—handing it over to Him now—because it’s becoming exhausting, trying to carry it all.
Did you know we’re not meant to carry any of it? His Word says, the joy of the Lord is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10), and His strength is made perfect in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). So in those times that feel heavy, we can be weak, yet feel strong.
Gosh, He’s so good.
And back to that image I saw on a friend’s page…
Last week at church, we got into small groups after the message to discuss four questions. Between the six of us, we barely made it through two of them! As we went around the circle, each of the guys were telling about the hurdles they’ve come to when trying to share their testimony. When it came time for me to answer, I found myself tearing up as I spoke about wanting to help others who have been—or are—going through some of the same things I have. But I find myself having reservations because, by sharing my testimony, I could be hurting someone else. Even though some of those people have hurt me, I don’t want to hurt them by sharing how they hurt me.
I was stopped mid-sentence with these words that I can only paraphrase, because I feel like they came straight from the Lord through the mouth of one of His sons: “Amy, you have to share your testimony because you’re the only one who can. God allowed you to be hurt and go through what you did so you could help someone else who needs to know how you made it through [because they can’t see any other way]. God gave you that story to tell, and I’ll (we’ll) be praying He gives you the chance to do it.”
I’m not sure if many of you know, but twice a month, the service I attend Monday evenings is at Bonne Terre prison—a place we go to show the love of Christ, yet He shows up, showing His love for us like He did for me in that moment. I know I’m not the only one who shows up to serve Monday evenings who feels like they leave with much more than they came with either!
Maybe God has closed off my writing because He’s trying to get me to share what He’s been helping me write through the letters of my life. And just like that, a verse I wrote down from this morning’s devotion comes full circle:
Clearly, you are a letter from Christ showing the result of our ministry among you. This “letter” is written not with pen and ink, but with the Spirit of the Living God. It is carved not on tablets of stone, but on human hearts. 2 Corinthians 3:3 (NLT)
The reflection in the mirror looks different when she looks back at me—because she is different. For years, she’s been hiding in the prison of her own mind, struggling to make her feelings match her faith. All this time, all these struggles, giving it to God, taking it back—while trusting Him, but not completely. As hard as it is to admit, a piece of me is always holding onto a small thread… but instead of a thread of the past, it should be the thread of His garment!
As I near the end of the longest piece I’ve written in some time, I can’t help but feel like the time is coming. The Lord is doing something in me that’s helping me to see where I’ve been holding back. While I thought I knew why, I wasn’t seeing where I’d been leaving breadcrumbs all along. He didn’t say for us to take up our cross daily to follow Him but leave some breadcrumbs in case we want to find our way backward, did He?!
I shared with someone the other day something I had once said to a friend many years ago and that is, people need to earn the right to hear your testimony, to know who you really used to be. Why? Because some people can’t unhear what you tell them. They will judge you and talk about how no one can change “that much.” But can I tell you something? The right people…the broken people…they’ll hear you loud and clear. And your story? It will turn into HIStory!
Father God, thank You for every single thing You’ve brought me through – good, bad, difficult, easy, exciting, scary, heartbreaking and heartwarming. Every day is one more reason to trust You because I’m here despite things in my past that say I shouldn’t be; some of my own doing, some out of my control. Lord, I ask You to use me. Keep me here, send me elsewhere, plant my roots in the ground, or simply ground me momentarily until you’re ready to move me. Help me to always be obedient to Your direction, even when it seems absurd and out of the blue. Help me to learn what I should in the here and now as You equip me for what You’re calling me to [next]. I’m sorry I get lost in my thoughts and sometimes concern myself with what people think over the passions You have placed inside of me. Give me opportunities, Divine appointments to share my testimony and, when You do, give me the confidence to speak it boldly. Help me to be present, to be at peace, and to be ready, willing, and able to step into this next season…I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one! Father, please protect me from the enemy who is only out to steal, kill and destroy. Shut the mouths of those who don’t speak the truth and close the ears to those who just won’t understand. And finally, Lord, surround me with angels to protect me and fill me with the boldness that comes with knowing You’ve already gone before me to prepare a way, even when there appears to be none. Thank You, Father. I love You. In Jesus’ Name I pray, Amen.
Previous
