Between a Bear and a Hard Place

On a sunny, blue sky day in July 2020, my husband, Brent, and I decided we would take an overnight hike to a beautiful waterfall we had read about but never seen. We carefully planned our route, packed our backpacks, and started walking from our ranch in northwest Wyoming towards the adjoining Shoshone National Forest. Out the door before sunrise and feeling strong, we chose to climb Jim Mountain–elevation 10,430 ft–on the way. In retrospect, this rigorous climb was probably a bad idea since the afternoon heat was stifling, and the additional distance to our chosen destination was turning out to be farther than we had planned. What started off as cheerful banter between us had deteriorated into irritated grumbling. Then in the far mountains we saw it–only the faintest white ribbon descending–and the promise of beauty drew us across the grassy valley towards our waterfall. Gaining ground, I saw something dark moving in the distance and remarked to my husband, “Hey, what’s that animal up there?” Brent, focused and barely looking up, replied, “Probably a mule deer.” 

As we got closer to the animal, I saw that it was actually two animals. Closer yet and I saw the telltale hump between the shoulder blades of the larger Grizzly Bear! A mama and a baby bear were out for their evening meal which presently consisted of grass. As mama lifted her head to sniff, I could tell she was hoping to add some meat to her menu. By this time, I had been quietly yelling, “Those are Grizzly Bears!” and other panicked exclamations while Brent kept telling me that our trail was “just past the bears”. When my husband has a goal, changing plans is a very hard sell.

This is the point in the story where things get a little ugly. Brent insisted we keep going and quietly sneak past the beasts. I sadly envisioned our kids telling the story about Mom being eaten by a wild animal. The distance between Brent and I widened as he pushed toward the trail, and I moved in the opposite direction. Suddenly, with the wind whipping wildly, I noticed I was approaching an immense cavern. Here were my present options: Go left and fall to my death off a cliff; go right and become supper for a bear. Overwhelmed, I slumped down to the ground, holding onto a boulder so I wouldn’t blow away. I cried with loud and miserable sobs. Brent eventually turned around, told me gently to get up, and took my hand. Discarding his waterfall hopes, he led me to solid ground–in the opposite direction of the waterfall and the bears.

My recent journey through menopause, midlife, and empty-nest marriage has often made me think of this waterfall-hunting misadventure. Already tired from the strenuous job of raising four humans, I was trekking on to get to my beautiful waterfall years, which I envisioned to be filled with sunshine and gorgeous wildflowers. Instead, my path led me to some unfamiliar manifestations of the layered life transitions I was experiencing. 

Menopause seen from a distance seemed harmless, part of the natural order of things. But up close, it threatened to eat my confidence. Midlife offered new freedoms, but I was unprepared for the anxiety produced by standing on the edge of an unknown precipice. And marriage after the kids left our home was often so confounding that I just wanted to hold onto a rock and cry my eyes out. 

But here is where the story gets better–beautiful even. When I was all of these things, trying to withstand the winds of change by my own power and will, crying with loud and miserable sobs, I became overwhelmed by all the changes in this midlife time. Finally, and with a little help from my friends, I ran to God. Not immediately. Not always willingly. But eventually. I got to the limits of my abilities to cope, and I went to the safest place I knew: The Rock of Ages, my only solid ground.

Sometimes we think navigating life’s tough passes requires great personal strength and fortitude, but in my midlife journey, I have found the opposite to be true. Peace during times of change requires a surrender of control, not a white-knuckled grasp for it. If we humbly accept the path God has us on during major life transitions, we can trust that he will take us by the hand and pull us up. But unlike an exasperated Brent, God will not lead us away from the goal; he has equipped us for this very journey. By hiking the scary path in our place many many years ago, he secured safe passage for us. Now, by his Spirit, we can walk right past the bears and alongside the canyon without fear of falling in. And if we keep faithfully following his steps, he will lovingly lead us into the awesome waterfall of his grace. 

Trust in the Lord forever,

    for the Lord, the Lord himself, is the Rock eternal.

~Isaiah 26:4

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;

    my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,

    my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

~Psalm 18:2

I Like Order

I like order. When everything is very orderly, I feel in control. I don’t always like structure– rules and prescriptive ways of doing things–but even when I prefer to fly by the seat of my pants, my flying, and my pants for that matter, are very orderly. 

God has indulged me in this little proclivity: I have four kids, two girls and two boys. All the children are two years apart, the first two in September, the next two in March. We celebrate birthdays two times per year, six months apart. My children' s names all consist of four letters, one syllable. We (almost–coming soon!) have eight grandchildren, four boys and four girls. Each of my adult children has one boy and one girl. 

If you come to my house and remove your shoes and set them so the right is on the left and the left is on the right, this drives me crazy and I will switch them for you, even in front of you, so that they are properly aligned. I also cannot tolerate anything inside-out, especially if it is hanging on a hook where I can see it, or a coat with the sleeves partially pulled inside. I have a compulsion to make things right and orderly–like my dishes, my silverware, and my towels which are all the same color–dark gray (just the towels, not the dishes which are all green and identical and stacked neatly in the cupboard). I make my bed every single day not because I have to but because I want to. It creates order in my house. Obviously, this was all much harder to achieve when I had four sticky children running around, but now that I have the opportunity, I like keeping things perfect.

I like order so much that I rely on it to feel secure. When things fly out of order, which they often do, I feel panicky because they might never become orderly again. 

But here’s the question I need to consider: Am I relying more on my ability to keep things perfectly ordered or on the God who sovereignly allows disorder so that we will run to him? 

Although God does, indeed, like order–look at the creation account or the animals two-by-two, or the instructions for the tabernacle, or the Levitical laws– but because he allowed us free will, disorder now reigns in our world. Because of this disorder, I try to control my little world so I don’t have to worry. But should I really put my trust in my perception of what feels safe? 

I’ve heard people say, “The safest place you can be is in the center of God’s will,” but I am wondering if maybe that’s not really true. Because when I surrender to God’s will, I must give up my own will; giving up my own will feels like losing control. Losing control means that I won’t be able to keep everything in perfect order. Is that where God wants me to be–at the end of myself but at the beginning of him? If we could see the future and were able to control all the variables so we felt at ease with what was ahead, we wouldn’t feel our need for a Savior. But we need a Savior because we have no ability to see around the corner. If what comes next makes my well-controlled house of cards fall to pieces, what will I put my trust in then?

So, even though God is sweet to me by allowing me a great sense of order in my life, if I put my security only in those things–in the things that feel clean and clear and ordered, I lose the opportunity to sit at his feet, to rely on him and not my well-ordered life. When I rely on my own tenacity to keep things well-aligned, I am not truly surrendering my will or my wants. If I only have peace when things are controlled, I’m not really trusting in the One who will sustain me when everything flies out of place (or when the grandchildren all visit at once).

Here’s where I have landed in this meandering thought experiment: If I only feel happy when my physical world is perfect, I am forgetting that Christ did, indeed, give me a little peek around the corner; this peek should give me peace. Christ lived, died, and was RESURRECTED so that I could see that all the chaos of this world will eventually be made beautiful and right. So I don’t need to panic. I need to look farther ahead and see what awaits me when God resurrects and restores Heaven and Earth. Confidence in that future promise is what should give me peace.

So in the meantime, when things get messy, I will be arranging my silverware into neat little piles and thinking thoughts of Heaven.

No Worry Required

In the past, I have written about my guilty conscience and the ways I try to quiet it. Some things for which I used to feel guilty have resolved themselves because they involved parenting duties I have now relegated to my adult children themselves, ie: cutting their own fingernails and brushing their teeth. When they were small, I didn’t do these things for them and barely did them for myself because I was simply trying to survive and those things seemed superfluous. Now that I sleep and have large chunks of time at my disposal, most of the things I once felt guilty about no longer plague me. In fact, I don’t struggle as much with guilt now as I used to, maybe because I realized many of the things I struggled with were actually false guilt. What I struggle now with is worry. 

I worry about my kids. I worry about my grandkids; I tell myself to stop because it is their parents' job to worry about them and I already did– and am doing–that for my kids. If I keep worry tabs open for each grandchild–we are up to eight now–I would freeze, and my mind would become the spinning ball of death–the same ball that appears on my Mac when I give it too much to do. I worry about my husband, and I worry about both of us when we fly in his airplane. I worry about my dog which I left with friends in Wyoming because I didn’t want to fly him home and because he is epileptic and I worry about his seizures. As a writer and a non-rusher and a bit of a dawdler, I worry about productivity. So when I get into a good routine of writing or living or eating, I worry about stopping it because maybe I will never get into a good routine again. I worry about writing because it doesn’t come as easily and cleanly as it used to, and I have to work harder to make myself do it even though I love it. I worry that I might be stupid because even though I understand words and feelings, numbers and money confuse me. I worry about my hermit-like tendencies and wonder if maybe I should try to be around people more even though I really like staying home by myself. I worry about exercising, and then when I exercise too much I worry that I am not recovering well and that maybe I have permanently injured myself. I worry about having too much stuff. I am OCD with this and need to know where everything is so I can feel in control. If I have too much, I can’t keep track of it all and it is stressful for me. When we moved recently, I got rid of nearly half of my possessions and keepsakes and it felt very clean and controlled. Now I worry about buying things because that clean feeling might go away. I worry about everything happening in the world today and that things are spinning wildly out of control and nothing will ever be beautiful again.

But mostly, I worry about worrying because I know that it accomplishes ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. So why do I do it, and why do I keep letting myself get into the mental space where everything feels threatening and life seems oppressive and ugly? I do it because I don’t really truly believe that God is sovereign and good. If you asked me this, I would say that I do believe he is those things, but I am realizing now that I don't. But I want to.

If I truly, with all my worrying heart, believed that God was holding onto everything and that nothing happened that wasn’t sifted through his holy hands, I could relax. I mean really relax. And I could enjoy the life he has assigned me in the time and place he has put me. If I truly trusted that he is good and that he is doing good for me, I could live the simple life of a child–God’s child. I wouldn’t worry because my Heavenly Father is in control. He is all-powerful. He is omniscient. And nothing ever surprises him. He is allowing history to unfold in the exact manner that he planned, and he is not shocked by the brokenness of the people he has made. If I really believed that I was praying to my Father–to my FATHER–in Heaven when I pray the Lord’s prayer or any prayer, I could shed my propensity to worry about everything as fast as my granddaughter sheds her clothes at the mention of a bath. 

Because really, what is worry? It accomplishes nothing except fear. It makes me distrustful and sometimes bitter because if nothing bad ever happened, I would never have to do it. The only time I find myself at ease and not worrying is when everything is going my way and no one is sick and no one is sad and all of my possessions are tidy and in order. 

But this is no way to live, because then I am always worrying that the perfectness is just about to end, and then I will be back to worrying again. I try to mitigate all of this by telling my kids to drive carefully and to stay healthy. I put up gates in my new house so no one will fall down the stairs and break themselves although I am still worried that they will stand on the bench that sits by the stairs and catapult themselves overboard and land lifeless in the basement. These thoughts create panic in my brain, not peace. So how do I stop? How do I get to a place of peace?

I get to peace by giving it all up–all the worry. I get to peace by trusting that God has my best life planned, even if it’s not the way I may think best, it will be the very best to make me more like him. I get to peace by praying and telling him that I am worrying again, and that I know that I am not supposed to worry about anything. I get to peace by reviewing his faithfulness in my life in the past. I get to peace by reading the Bible and seeing things that God already did and things he has already worked out behind the scenes when no one even knew he was doing it. I get to peace by truly believing that God has already won the battle over Satan. That he sent Jesus to live perfectly in my place so I have nothing to prove. That everything sad will one day become untrue. 

I get to peace by realizing that when I focus on my little ever-changing life, I am uncomfortable and insecure. And by realizing that when I focus on God and his unchanging nature, I can be still and know that he is God. When I look at his sovereignty rather than my fickleness, I see that worry is silly because we have no control over anything. But God does. 

And he is a master at making everything beautiful in its time.

God has a beautiful worry-free life planned for me. I just need to believe it and give up my perceived control. I need to remind myself daily of his goodness. I need to stop worrying, look for the peace he has promised, and learn to trust him more.

Because he really is sovereign and good.

 Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6-7 (NLT)

Heart Healing Words

Recently, my sister, Tanya, was experiencing episodes of a chaotic and irregular heartbeat. Not only did the electrical system in her heart seem to be misfiring at the most inopportune times, but the stress created by this uncertainty severely limited her active lifestyle. Finally, after a particularly scary event on her daily walk, Tanya made an appointment with a heart specialist and decided to receive a heart ablation per his recommendation. An ablation is a surgical procedure that is used to treat irregular or abnormal heart rhythms, and Tanya’s was successful. But the anxiety that had been created by this malady still haunted her, making her doubt the surgeon’s opinion. She still felt great fear every time she attempted anything that would raise her heart rate significantly. So, after many months of feeling like a victim of her unfortunate circumstances, Tanya revisited the surgeon and exclaimed, “I just want to be able to do the things I used to do!” and the doctor’s swift response was, “You can.” He told her that the procedure had healed her heart and that she should just stop thinking about it.  This whole experience was transformative for Tanya because she chose to completely trust the doctor and take him at his word. She knew that he was skilled and esteemed and she chose to believe that his action to heal her heart had been successful. She no longer needed to worry. She could do the things--walk, hike, run, rejoice--she used to do and she could do them with gusto.

 

Words have power to change how we feel about ourselves. Tanya believed the doctor’s declaration and it ushered her from fear to freedom.

 

If the words of men have the power to transform our lives, how much more the words of God? Do I truly believe the things God has spoken in the Bible? 

What does he really think of me? Here’s God’s honest truth:

1. GOD LOVES ME! Romans 8:38-39 tells us it’s true. The Creator of the universe thinks I am the cat’s pajamas (although none of my cats ever wore pajamas, I think this is a huge compliment!) 

2. I HAVE BEEN CHOSEN BY HIM. Not only chosen, but also an heir to an amazing inheritance with Jesus in Heaven (Ephesians 1:11-14)

3. I AM PRECIOUS AND HONORED. I love reading Isaiah 43 when I am feeling low or insignificant because I know if God calls me by name that I am special.

4. HE GIVES ME POWER TO CONQUER SIN. Sanctification is a long process of making mistakes and then turning back to God. The painful truth of the matter is that while I am in this world, sin will be present in my mortal body. However, I have a choice of whether to follow my sin or follow my Savior. God has given me a helper in the Holy Spirit–John calls it an Advocate–who can assist me in making good choices that glorify God. I won’t always make the right choice, but as a Christ-follower, I have been equipped for success by the Holy Spirit inside me.

5. I CAN’T OUT-SIN JESUS’ BLOOD. When I wallow in my missteps or carry my shame around as a punishment, I am telling Jesus that his sacrifice for me is not enough. But 1 John 1:9 tells us what is actually true: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” Jesus' blood was enough for the whole world’s sin–including mine.

6. GOD IS MORE CONCERNED ABOUT MAKING ME HOLY THAN HAPPY. God does want me to have an abundant life, but that abundance may look different than I had envisioned because Father knows best and Tori thinks she knows best but doesn’t. This doesn’t mean that I have to fear things that God allows, but it does mean that in this world I will have trouble because the world is broken. I can be encouraged, though, because in the end, God wins.

7. MY LIFE REALLY ISN’T ABOUT ME AT ALL, IT’S ABOUT GOD. In this insta-world with abundant selfies and admonitions to follow my heart, I need to remember that my life needs to be focused on someone else: my Creator. He is the one who will meet all my needs, help me to thrive, and make me feel like I am worthy of love. Our narcissistic world does not provide hope. But my supreme God does: “For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy.” I am not “all that” but God is. He created me and he deserves all the glory. It’s so good for me to remember that.

People’s words can transform the way we think. God’s words can transform our very hearts. The Ultimate Physician has not only healed our hearts, he has poured his life--his righteousness--into them and he has told us so. Do we really believe him? The words he says about us are true, and when we do believe them, we can experience freedom to do the things we were designed to do--to run with freedom, not fear, and with gusto towards the beautiful life he has given us. Praise be to our Healer!

Update: Since first writing this piece, my sister has not only been able to start running, but she faced her anxiety head on by completing a MARATHON in November–with me!

 

Red Bird Devotions #25

         Soul-full

        (Repost from May 17, 2011)

Jesus summed up commonsense carefulness in the life of a disciple as unbelief. If we have received the Spirit of God, He will squeeze right through our lives, as if to ask, “Now where do I come into this relationship, this vacation you have planned, or these new books you want to read?” And He always presses the point until we learn to make Him our first consideration. Whenever we put other things first, there is confusion.

--Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest

Whenever we put other things before God, there is confusion.

Sometimes I forget this.

And then I wonder why my life seems so rushed and chaotic and…confusing.

Ann Voskamp in One Thousand Gifts says, “Hurry always empties a soul.” When I am hurrying, I am not living in that moment, I am rushing to get to the next..and the next…and the next. This incessant urgency within me to be in control, to show my productivity, to get to the next task, is not about God. It does not glorify God. It does not give thanks to God. Because in my rush to make my life look just like I want it to look, I entertain not gratitude, but discontentment--discontentment about not completing my list; discontentment about having too much to do; discontentment about being stressed out; discontentment with my blessed life. This discontentment is not like God.

This lack of gratitude empties my soul.

I don’t want an empty soul.

As Voskamp says, “ I just want time to do my one life well.”

I want to focus on God and have perfect peace—He promises that peace if I steadfastly look upon Him.  He is right here. Right now. In this moment. And in the next.

Rushing ahead won’t help me see Him more clearly. Rushing ahead won’t give me that peace that I crave.

But putting Him first will.

O Lord, please slow my pace, clear my vision, and fill my soul with You.

Amen

Man is a mere phantom as he goes to and fro:
   He bustles about, but only in vain…

Psalm 39:6

You will keep in perfect peace
   him whose mind is steadfast,
   because he trusts in you.

Isaiah 26:3

Red Bird Devotions #24

Flat Rabbits

As I was driving to the gym this morning at 5:48, I noticed a rabbit (and two raccoons and three white-tailed deer) trying to avoid certain death as my car zoomed by. This rabbit was different than the other wildlife that I observed on my short commute; while the maybe-somewhat-smarter raccoon and deer ducked for cover in the nearby forest of trees, the rabbit, being a city dweller, ran under another car—albeit stationary. And the first thought that came to mind was, “he thinks he’s safe there.”

Sometimes, I think we are like that. Our lives start getting uncomfortable, or painful, or out of control, and we think our protection lies somewhere in this world. We think if we can just find a way out of this suffocating circumstance, these painful memories, or these dizzying demands on our time, that we will feel safe and relaxed. But we’re wrong—just like that rabbit was wrong. In the same way we know eventually that car will start up again--and eventually it will back over that creature that looked for protection behind its wheel--when we run to anything but the one true God for comfort, that "false protector" will eventually pull us away from the real one—and maybe even crush us.

As Christians, we know where our Real Security lies; it is not in ease or comfort or wealth. It’s not in education, or influence, or beauty or other relationships. We only have real safety when we hide ourselves with Christ in God—He is truly our Rock and our Refuge--all other things will disappoint.

And instead of having life to the full, we will just be a flat rabbit.

The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,
   my shield and the horn of my salvation.
He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior…

2 Samuel 22:2-3

Red Bird Devotions #16

Reversal

I am a wrestler.  Betcha didn’t know.

Yep.  I wrestle with God and the way He wants to run my life.

I wrestle often.  I rarely win.

I wrestle with God on how to use my time.  I wrestle with Him on how to think about people.  I wrestle with Him about my present circumstances.  I wrestle with Him about glory.

Really. 

And all this wrestling shows is that I have not fully turned over my rights to myself and my life to my God. Because I think I am entitled to ease and happiness.

But God never promised me those things.  He never promised me that if I followed Him things would be carefree and convenient. 

All He promised was Himself.  This promise is more than enough since He already provided all that I would ever need for life and godliness through His death and resurrection.  There is nothing that I need or don’t have.  There is no part of His Spirit that I will get in the future. He has already given it all to me. 

Yet, still I wrestle and I whine.  I care more about my ego than His glory.  I care more about my routine than His righteousness.  In my tiny little mind, I believe that I know better than the Creator of the Universe.  I believe that if I wrestle, I may overpower Him and my life would be my own to run.

This, of course, is foolishness.  I know.

But I continue to egg Him on, my tiny voice taunting.  And He continues to humor me with cords of loving kindness.  He tolerates my struggle, my kicking, my screaming, all the while knowing that He, indeed, does know what’s right for me.  He wants to give me His best.

Only He knows what that is.

If I would just relax my defensive stance, watching for Him to move, and if I would rest in His judgments, I would be completely satisfied. 

Completely satisfied.

And if I would look up and see His face, I would be completely amazed by the stunning beauty of my Lord. 

The stunning beauty of my Lord.

Because it is only in my Savior that I am made whole.  It is only in my Savior that I can give up my rights and be made completely free.

I’m thinkin’ I should retire from wrestling.

And instead, I should take up resting.

In the shelter of the Most High with the Almighty God as my leader, not my opponent.

Won’t you join me?

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

Psalm 91:1

Red Bird Devotions #15

Broken

Two years ago, I fell on the ice and broke my wrist. I was rushing down a hill in our backyard that I had rushed down hundreds of times, but this time there was snow. And the snow had turned into ice as it sometimes does in our strange cold-warm-then cold again Iowa winters. I had dashed out coatless and shoeless (I was wearing slippers--maybe that is why they are called that) to feed the hungry dog.  All of a sudden, my feet slipped out from under me, and I caught myself with my left hand.  Being cold and in a hurry, I quickly jumped up, grabbed my watch, which had snapped off of my wrist, and proceeded down the hill and into the dog’s kennel.  When I got to the concrete below, I noticed that my arm was throbbing, and I looked down to see my left hand sitting atop my left arm in the place where my wrist had been (I have graciously spared you the picture.). Needless to say, all was not well.  I went ahead and fed the dog and then walked back up the hill and went inside. Then I called Brent on the phone and said, “I did something bad to my arm.  It looks really deformed.”  Within 20 minutes, he had arrived, and we were heading to the Emergency Room.  When I presented my deformation to the girl at the desk, she gagged slightly and then got me into a doctor ASAP.  When the doctor saw my misshapen limb, he proceeded to send me to X-ray.  The X-rays showed that I had broken my very first bone at age 50. 

After a few weeks in a huge cast from my armpit to my hand, my bones were not healing correctly, so surgery was scheduled.  My body wasn’t able to align my bones itself, so a surgeon--with a mask and power tools (I heard them in my twilight sleep)-- had to place a plate and some screws inside my arm to hold my wrist in the right position.

What would have happened if I refused surgery and let my bones heal on their own?  If I left the cast on, took extra vitamins and visualized it as “all better” ?  My bones actually would have healed, but incorrectly; the structure wouldn’t be the same as before and I would have probably lost some use of my wrist--maybe even my entire arm.  I couldn’t properly fix my wrist all by myself.  I needed a physician’s help. My wrist is nearly perfect now (though I can see the embedded plate move when I wiggle my fingers back and forth; ask me to demonstrate sometime)…because I sought help from without.  Relying on my own methods or practices would never have fixed the effects of my fall. 

Sometimes, I treat my feelings the way I was tempted to treat my wrist; I try to manage them on my own because giving the control of them up to “Someone else” seems too scary.  But it is only when I submit to this Someone--this God who made me, weak wrists and all--that I can truly use my emotions correctly.  You see, my emotions are also broken because of the Fall; in my natural responses to life, I want to nurse my grudges, elevate my opinions, and play the victim when things don't go my way. When I react with my default mechanism (which for me is self-pity over submission), I am unable to use my feelings the way that God designed me to do. 

 As my wrist healed from the surgery--an actual event in time--the doctor prescribed certain exercises to strengthen the surrounding muscles and help them adjust to this new way of moving.  When Jesus places his Spirit within us--an actual event in time--we can practice certain disciplines to help us learn to walk in step with him.  These disciplines don’t give us salvation--only Jesus can do that--but they train our hearts and our minds to think like a child of God; we practice spiritual disciplines, like reading our Bibles, praying, and meditating on the goodness of our Father, to strengthen our spiritual “muscles.” 

It takes deliberation and practice to walk as a child of God.  And falling is inevitable.  But faith in the Great Physician strengthens our resolve and keeps us on solid ground. 

Amen and amen.

“Do not be conformed 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