Only The Stupid Hate Correction

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The Hebrew word translated to “Stupid” in this proverb is “ba-ar.”

It means brutish, stupid, unreceptive.

“Brutish” is an old word without much context for me, so I looked it up.


“Unreasoning and animal like,” the definition said.

Those who hate to be corrected are “unreasoning and animal like.”

learning to love correction


I’m learning to love correction - to love the opportunity to be better, to love God better, to love people better.

It doesn’t mean every dang person in the arena gets my ear for their criticism. But it does mean having vocal people around me - people who love me, who I trust - who will tell me hard things, who will correct me.

It means soaking up the correction, taking it to God, learning from it, discerning whether it’s accurate, and moving forward with more knowledge regardless.

You can reject every correction, or you can take it all in while hating every word and let it break you, or you can accept it with one hand, gratefully, looking it over and taking it to the creator to see what you can learn from it.

I’m working toward the latter.

We Weren’t Made To Fit In; We Were Made To Fit Together

Together in Christ there is room at the table

Let me tell you something, human person. 

You fit. 

But you don’t fit into some sort of scary Stepford mold - you are a nuanced human person.

You’re a living being made in the image of a living God.

You’re not a lego trying to complete a jigsaw puzzle or a round peg trying to squeeze into a square hole. 

You don’t have to sand yourself down, or suck it in, or conceal your wounds, or cover up to belong here. 

You weren’t made to fit in somewhere - you were made to fit together with someones. 

Pull up a chair and open your mouth and I’ll bet everything I have that we’ll find a source of connection, of togetherness.

Bring yourself, as you are. 

And if you’ve envisioned the table of Jesus Christ as a place for the put-together, for the ones wearing a certain type of clothes, having certain talents, being married, being parents, being ones who don’t make big mistakes, or ones who know the Bible - I want you to imagine Jesus flipping that table over.

The table where we gather has room for everyone. 

The table where we gather is one where you belong.

You.

You don’t have to change your clothes, 

Or your mannerisms,

Or your language,

Or even your beliefs

To find a seat here. 

Sit down. Let me tell you about Jesus, who knows you and loves you and carved out a place for you at this table before you ever knew His name.

I’m scooting over for you right now because there is always room at His table.

Grateful For My Anxiety

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It’s funny how one day I can be in a state of near- full surrender, of kingdom-mindedness, of eternal focus, and the next day I can be a tightly wound ball of anxiety with my eyes fixated on the temporal and my thoughts magnifying what isn’t going my way.

I’m working on a collection of short meditations on anxiety right now. They are the things I say to myself and to others - and the things I think God says to us - when we are rolling in the muck of it. But as I write these down, as I contemplate the anxiety monster, I find myself incredibly grateful.

The knot in my stomach, the tsunami of thoughts, the tightness in my chest, the trembling limbs - they light up the cockpit of my life and remind me, painfully, to get out of the pilot’s seat.

In this way, the anxiety is a gift. For me it is a clear heads up to get my head up.

It still sucks. I don’t love it. At its best it is mildly aggravating, 
at its worst it is soul crushing. It’s a monster we won’t be bothered with on the other side of eternity.

But I’m grateful for the way it has taught me to shift focus.

For how it teaches me surrender.

For how it won’t let me be the pilot - how as soon as I take control of the cockpit it wakes up and sounds every alarm.

I don’t love it, but I’m grateful.
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest in me.”
2 Corinthians 12:9

*This little book of meditations, lamentations, and prayers is going to print in July. When you preorder through Kickstarter, shipping is on me. CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY KICKSTARTER PAGE

 

He Spoke And The Universe Appeared: Let Me Introduce You To My Good, Good, God.

Photo by   Rakicevic Nenad   from   Pexels

He spoke and the universe appeared. Full stop. He spoke. He said a word.

And everything in this natural world appeared. Everything you’ve ever seen, felt, heard is here because He simply spoke it into existence.

Imagine speaking and watching as what you spoke appeared. Imagine willing something into existence. It is almost unfathomable to me.

Yet, almost daily, I find myself telling my God - my God who spoke a word and saw the universe appear - I find myself telling Him how something should be done, where He should interfere, where He should move.

Me.

Telling Him.

It’s ludicrous.

But the best part of the whole thing is this -

God doesn’t squash me or punish me or wave me off with a “How dare you!”

He tucks me under His arm and whispers “I got this,” and He reminds me who He is and what He can do and He lifts my chin and pulls my shoulders back and he calls me “daughter.”

He loves me.

Let me introduce you to my uncontrollable,

unshakeable,

unrelenting,

undeniable God.

He is good.

He is mine.

I am His.

I Do What I Want

I do what I want www.stevieswift.com

Years ago, I took a last minute trip to Iraq. It was two weeks away from my two year-old and it was traveling to a country perceived as dangerous, which made the trip selfish in the eyes of some.

In hindsight, it is easy to see God’s hand in the entire process, but in the middle, as I prepared to leave, I worried whether I was doing the right thing and acting with the right motives. 

I wanted to go.  I wanted it badly. 

I wanted to travel back to the country I last saw as a soldier. I wanted to be a part of something positive there.  I wanted to meet the people under different circumstances. I also wanted adventure.  I wanted to get on an airplane and do something exciting. I wanted to do this thing – go to this place.

I told a friend what I was feeling, how I was scared this was a selfish act, a selfish decision. He responded, “How many people do you know who ‘want’ to do this?”  

And something clicked for me.  A big something.

A life-giving, freedom-giving something.

Wanting to do a thing, wanting to be a thing, wanting to go to a place – these do not poison an action.  They are a part of every poisonous action, which is why I was confused, but wanting is not the poison.

If I am walking with God, abiding in Him, listening to the Holy Spirit – if I am ready and willing to stop when He says to stop, to go when He says to go, to stay when He says to stay – I don’t need to be afraid of my own desires.

If I am seeing Him for who He is, if I am daily giving my life to Him, I don’t need to stress, to strive, to stumble over every decision.  

For six years, I have been doing more and more of what I want to do. Mostly, I avoid doing things because I think I should. Mostly, I avoid doing things because other people think I should.  

I do what makes sense based on my circumstances, my strengths, my weaknesses. I walk closely with my God, so that my desires align with Him and I do the things I want to do.  

I am a servant, but I am a servant to a freedom-giving God. I’m not a slave to my own expectations, nor a slave to the expectations of others. I’m not a slave to God’s expectations either – I could never meet them, they’ve already been met for me, and there is new grace and mercy for me every single day. 

And for you, too.

You are free. Are you living free?