Love at the Well Archives - Page 3 of 5

Comparison Lies

July 2, 2016

As we celebrate our country and our freedom this weekend, Dr. Michelle Bengtson shares how we can also celebrate our freedom in Christ that gives us freedom from comparison.

I sat with my back pinned against the back of the upright chair, legs crossed, assessing my choice of attire for the evening from the boots to the pants to the lace blouse, and finished off with the jewelry—never leave home without it.

Was my choice appropriate for the evening? It seemed to blend in sufficiently with Executive Ellen’s and Powerhouse Pam’s attire. I didn’t mean to, but I was in comparison mode. Oh how I hated that—I always ended up on the short end of the stick.

I spent the evening planning an upcoming event with other area ministry leaders, honored to be included but secretly wondering how I made the guest list.

It wasn’t so much what I wore on the outside that I was comparing with the others, if I was honest with myself. These were high-powered ministry women with years of successful ministry behind them that were more impressive than most ministry leaders I personally knew. Their impact for the kingdom was mighty. They each knew their call and they confidently lived and breathed it each day for decades.

As I sat listening to their suggestions for the event, and adding my thoughts when warranted, I fought to ignore another deafening voice. One that sought to mock me at every turn.

“Why are you even here? You don’t belong here.”
“What have you done for the Kingdom of God that even comes close to comparing to these other women?”
“Maybe God doesn’t trust you as much as He trusts these women to impact the Kingdom of Heaven.”

By the time the evening was over, I couldn’t get to my car fast enough. Thankful that dark skies fell early during these months, tears cascaded down my cheeks and no one could see them through my windows.

What had I done in my life that had any real significance for the Kingdom of Heaven? I wasn’t preaching revivals or teaching on a weekly radio or television program. I hadn’t even devoted my life to teaching children’s Sunday School (for which children should have been grateful! At least I knew where I wasn’t gifted!)

I’m not even sure how I saw through my tears to drive home that night, but by the time I arrived in my garage, I turned off the ignition, sat in the solitude of my parked car and wept.

Could it be true, Lord? That you don’t trust me to have a significant impact for the Kingdom?
Just the thought of it grieved my heart.

All I wanted was for others to see Jesus in me. To want to know Him. For me to one day hear the Father say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

Continue reading God’s freeing words to Michelle at DrMichelleBengtson.com.

What I Learned Dancing With My Daddy

June 23, 2016

I’d probably only met Liz for about all of a minute before we were both gushing out our daddy stories to each other. The natural ones, and even more, the ones about our Heavenly Father.

The one she shares here about her Father-Daughter dance has me just like I was when we first met–moved to tears and to thankfulness for a Heavenly Father who leads us and never lets us down. I pray it moves you too:

As I settled into the window seat on my flight to Florida, my neighbor to the left asked why I was headed to Tampa.

In a quaking voice, I choked out words that sounded foreign to my ears, “To see my Dad who is in the ICU.”

In one of the many ways God showed me He was with me over the hard days that followed, she revealed that she had been a hospice chaplain for many years. Then she asked me to tell her about my Dad.

From nearly the time I was able to walk, I can remember placing my tiny feet on top of my Daddy’s shoes and moving to the beat of 1960s and 1970s classics.

As I got a little older, I’d place my hand in his and let him spin me around on the splintered wood and crackling concrete of our back porch.

Despite our history of cutting a rug, I never really mastered the art of moving my body in rhythm to music. In fact, the only time I can remember dancing without feeling self-conscious is with him.

When it came time to pick the song for the Daddy-Daughter dance at my wedding, I struggled. Nothing seemed to fit our relationship just right.

Two weeks before the big event I finally confessed that I hadn’t yet selected the tune. He said, “Oh, I know what we’re dancing to.” It was as if he had pictured the moment in his head for years.

My heart skipped a beat when he told me.

I’ve Had the Time of My Life from Dirty Dancing

In heels? And a full length, beaded gown? On a polished dance floor? In front of nearly 200 of our closest family and friends, and some of my in-laws I hadn’t yet met?

Ummmm… What? No. Way.

But then, I remembered. I remembered how he had twirled me around to that very song over a decade before during a 4th of July BBQ. How he had never let me down. How his hand firmly gripped mine and his eyes focused on me without distraction. As I watched him and took my cues from him, I could anticipate our next move.

How well we danced when I let him lead me.

That’s when I knew it was going to be alright. That I could trust him to keep me from sliding across the dance floor in that crowded ballroom.

We danced to that song at my wedding and a friend of mine snapped a couple of my favorite photos during our performance. The skirt of my dress full and flowing. My arms stretched out wide. My hand firmly holding his. Our eyes focused on each other.

See the pictures and continue reading and dancing with Liz, and our Heavenly Father, over at her Messy Desk.

My Father’s Voice

June 17, 2016

My dear friend Paige, a precious mom of five at Tales from the Laundry Room, has about as many faith stories as she does loads of laundry. I love every one of them, and her recent tale of her daddy is no exception. Be blessed as you hear from her and your Heavenly Father:

Father’s Day is Sunday. It’s my second without having my dad to celebrate. I miss him terribly, but feel so blessed to have had him as my father. Perhaps I am biased, but there wasn’t a better Daddy in the world.

So in his honor (and in honor of good dads everywhere), I’m sharing one of my favorite stories about my father.

Throughout my childhood, my family kept a tiny flock of sheep in the backyard, as part of a 4-H project. It was not uncommon for the sheep to find a way of escape from the small pen in our backyard. It seemed we only became aware of their fugitive state whenever some neighbor telephoned to let us know our wooly pets were out wandering along the roadsides.

Whenever our lambs went for one of their strolls, my father always insisted we immediately go track down those sheep, and return them as soon as possible to the safety of the pen in our backyard. It didn’t matter if it was day or night. As luck would have it, our lambs were infamous for taking moonlit walks, the deeper into the night the better … or so it seemed.

I could tell many tales about these sheep-chasing escapades, but one time in particular always stands out in my memory. It happened on a humid night the fall I turned sixteen.

The ringing of our phone roused me slightly from my deep sleep. It was soon followed by my dad’s hard knock on the door of the bedroom I shared with my sister. “Paige,” he said, “get up! The sheep are out along the highway, somewhere toward the high school. Your brother and I are heading out now. You follow along just as soon as you get dressed. Meet us on the other side of the bridge.”

I heard the front door shut as they walked out of the house, and then their voices carrying softly as they walked across the front yard, headed toward the highway that stretched out in front of our brick home. A wave of jealousy swept over me as I looked over at my younger sister, snugly tucked into dreams instead of being forced to go on a midnight goose (er … sheep) hunt for a bunch of wayward lambs.

Continue reading the rest of the sheep story and hearing His voice at Tales from the Laundry Room.

10 Ways to Focus on Honoring Your Husband

April 27, 2016

I now realize what a brave man my husband was to take on a control queen like me when we married. Our power struggle started on the honey moon, when the poor guy tried to suggest a restaurant where we could eat dinner.

Seriously, one of my spiritual gifts happens to be leadership, very awkward for a woman in the context of marriage. If I’m not careful, my control queen tendencies crop up and cause problems. Only by God’s grace, my husband and I have enjoyed a 20 year marriage. We’re learning to work through our differences and make love our top priority.

While I hope I’ve come a long way since the “Let’s-fight-about-where-to-eat” days, my family still gets a good laugh out of the classic line from the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Toula’s mother says, “The man is the head of the household, but the woman is the neck. And she can turn the head any way she wants.”

Learn ways to honor your husband by visiting Faith Spilling Over.

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