Bible, Christian, Encouragement, Faith, God, Uncategorized

The promise of a reward

endurance

This was my beach vacation read. It’s not the usual relaxing kind of tale one might enjoy while lounging by the ocean, but it was actually quite interesting. You see, I’ve signed up to run a half marathon and I needed some encouragement that I would actually be able to do it! It worked. I found it quite informative and motivating, and full of training tips that I was sure I could implement. So I began to form my plan. It seemed so simple.

It actually is a simple plan but I’m finding it harder to implement than anticipated. The core principle is to run at a pace at which your heart rate will remain within the recommended beats per minute based on your age and fitness level. Once you’ve strengthened your aerobic system through this training method you’ll be able to run faster and increase distance while still maintaining a lower heart rate. I have a wonderful sports watch which tracks just about everything you can imagine and I set the format to monitor not only distance covered and time elapsed but heart rate also. Again, it seemed so simple.

Enlightened with the new information, I set out on my first run with a fresh focus: watch my heart rate. This proved to be quite challenging. Besides trying to remember that was the focus, the pace at which I was having to run seemed off. It was much slower than the pace I’d achieved and been able to maintain in the weeks prior. And while I had been able to run faster in those weeks, the recovery period lasted much longer because the runs would completely wipe me out.

One would think it would be easier to go slower. Not really. My body kept falling into the faster pace I’d established previously, then when I’d check my heart rate I’d have to slow down. This cycle repeated itself for miles. Nothing felt right about it, none the least of which was my bruised ego. I could almost walk as fast as I was “running”. It felt like a setback.

The struggle continued for weeks as I worked to establish some level of consistency. Most runs ended with a modicum of satisfaction from having completed a run, but precious little otherwise. I’ve wondered if signing up for the half marathon was such a good idea after all. I don’t really like this new training method, but I’m doing it because it promises a reward: greater endurance.

As He often does, God has turned this training time into much more than how fast I can run or a consistent heart rate. It’s no big secret that I’ve been frustrated for months, just ask my husband. I’ve blamed most of it on events of last year that were just hard. And they were. But God’s taken me deeper into the examination of the frustration to see that I’m still trying to get through life pushing myself to go harder and faster and do more, but it’s not working. He’s slowing me down, training me at a new pace, developing new patterns. I don’t really like it but I’m doing it because He promises a reward: greater endurance.

If genetics are a determining factor, I’m destined to live quite a few more years. I can’t expect to continue the unhealthy cycle of pushing myself to exhaustion then shutting down to recover if I expect to make it through the years ahead and actually enjoy them!  This year has been very much about self-care, finding healing for my soul, rediscovering hope, and committing (again) to faithful obedience – to follow Him, doing whatever He may ask, even if it means going slower. I want to finish my life well, like Paul – “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Tim 4:7) – and hope in the end to hear Him say “Well done.”

Oh, and my running performance? Going farther at a faster pace already. Half marathon, here I come!”

The promise of a reward” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

The Endurance Handbook and many other resources beneficial to health and fitness can be found at https://philmaffetone.com. Check it out!!

 

 

 

 

Uncategorized

Still getting oxygen

Airplane-oxygen-mask

My sister flew in for a visit early this summer. Our lunch conversation caught us up on all the latest which culminated in the shared experience that our lives are not what we thought they would be at this point. I often ask this question when speaking to groups – “How many of you are doing what you thought you’d be doing at this point in your life?” And each time I ask I see only one or two hands raise. Life happens. But not as we expected.

While our lives are different, my sibling and I currently share the same frustration of inactivity. Oh, we are busy with stuff. It’s just not the stuff we wanted to be busy with, thought we would be busy with, and feel guilty that we are not busy with. We’ve spent our passions going through life full-throttle, and now we’re not.

As we commiserated the discomfort of being still, she shared with me a simple observation she made during the flight attendant’s safety speech. Here’s a portion of a standard speech:

“Place the mask over both your mouth and nose and secure with the elastic band as your Flight Attendant is demonstrating. Tighten by pulling on the ends of the elastic bands. Even though oxygen is flowing, the plastic bag may not inflate.”

Neither of us see the plans and dreams we had for our lives inflating at this point. And just like nervous flight passengers, there is a sense of panic that arises when we can’t see the bag inflate! But the assurance is that we are still getting oxygen. And that’s what’s important. God is still God and His timing is perfect. He has not left us without exactly what we need during this season, His breath in our lungs.

As I read through the safety speech to find the above I noticed the two sentences just before:

“Reach up and pull the mask to your face. This action will start the flow of oxygen.”

Reach up. This starts the flow of oxygen. Hmmm.

I can’t tell you how many times this summer I’ve said to myself “I’m still getting oxygen.” It was a timely word for me, and maybe for you as well.

Reach up and just breathe.

I’ve been pondering this for weeks. As I write today and prepare to post, my friend is quite literally fighting to breathe. It’s a long story that perhaps one day I will tell, but today I will simply ask you to pray for the miracle of oxygen saturation in her lungs. She is precious to me and much more so to God. She needs to know the miracle of getting enough oxygen. Join me as I sing this praise to God and over her.

 

Still getting oxygen” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

Safety speech excerpts taken from http://www.airlineannouncement.com/

Bible, Christian, Encouragement, Faith, God, sorrow, Spiritual, Uncategorized

times of refreshing

If only it were as easy as one click.

refresh-animated   https://kayslife

…so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord, restoring you like a cool wind on a hot day…

But here I am, still processing.

Image result for processing gifI knew that healing and restoration would take time and I began the new year with plans to slow down and let it take place. But I didn’t think it would take this long. I didn’t think it would be this hard. I didn’t know it would bring my soul to a complete stall. I looked up the definition of stall: …stop running, typically because of an overload… Yeah, that just about sums it up.

I’m thinking today of the Israelites of old and how it must have been when the prophets had nothing to prophecy because God was silent. Normally, I don’t mind silence. Perhaps this time is to take me into a deeper level of listening. It is definitely a season where standing in faith has taken me to new depths. What did the Israelites do during those silent years? They kept on doing what they were doing the last time He spoke. Or they didn’t. I can understand how at times they strayed from their faith, feeling God was too distant, uncaring toward their struggles, desperate to hear His words of deliverance. I’m tempted often to throw that pity party.

It’s not that I haven’t heard Him speak. I have. But I am longing to hear something more than “be still” or “not yet”. I want “…and suddenly a sound came from heaven like a rushing violent wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting…” to shake things up a bit.

Normally, I don’t mind getting permission to take it easy either. For a little while. Being highly achievement motivated, however, makes this longer-than-anticipated season a struggle. I’ve started running again which is good and gives me momentary satisfaction in accomplishments. But I can’t outrun the sorrow that still weighs on my heart. Many days it still clouds my vision and drains my energies and I just want to move on.

There was no rush to the morning so I sat on the balcony in the sultry air to watch the sun rise above the trees and read my devotional. It began “Come to Me, My weary one…” and ended with this –

“I want you to know that I approve of you and I approve of rest. When you relax in My Presence, trusting in my finished work on the cross, both you and I are refreshed.”

And there He was, like a cool wind on a hot day, refreshing me with His Presence and His promise that more times of refreshing are coming. I hope you found refreshment in His Presence today, too.

 

times of refreshing” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

Scripture references: Acts 3:20, 2:2, Matt 11:28

Devotional excerpt from Jesus Always by Sarah Young

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Christian, Encouragement, Faith, God, Spiritual, Uncategorized

What it’s not

giphy

Having recently radically changed my eating habits, I’ve experimented with numerous recipes in an effort to satisfy my desire for the now prohibited carbs – bread, grains, etc. Obviously, the first step was to Google low-carb recipes – I had no idea how many ways cauliflower could be used! I like cauliflower so I’ve made cauliflower bread, cauliflower pizza crust, and cauliflower muffins, roasted cauliflower, baked cauliflower, and steamed cauliflower, all of which have been quite tasty. My husband even likes most of them and he hates cauliflower. But let’s get something straight – no matter how you chop it, process it, season it, or cook it, cauliflower “rice” is not rice. Ever. It’s just not. I want it to be. I keep trying different methods but all fail to fulfill my expectations. I don’t mind the flavor of this poor substitution and would settle for even a slightly similar texture. Still a no. It can best be described by what it’s not. It’s not rice.

Looking back over the past few years it’s easy to see when I began to slack on really taking care of myself. I can blame it on many things such as an unexpected move, living a year in “temporary” mode, a new job with new responsibilities, taking care of my mom, a hurricane, etc. There are other outward factors I could list but you get the idea. Lots of changes occurred and I made it to the other side but with a bit of a dark cloud still hanging over me.

With my new year’s focus on better self-care I am striving to once again make Sundays a true day of rest – physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It’s been challenging, but I’m determined! The plan is to come home from morning services, change into something comfy, climb into bed with my bible and journal and see what happens. Some days I just sleep. Other days are study and journaling. Some days are just relaxing and reflecting.

It was on one of those days of reflection that God led me to examine the real reason my little black cloud was still looming above: resignation. During that season of many changes that were not a part of my grand plan, I resigned myself to the belief that certain things in my life would never change. “It is what it is” became an internal mantra, a coping mechanism to just get through it all. I called it “accepting those things I cannot change” and hoped that if it worked for Reinhold Niebuhr, this acceptance would work for me. But God being always attentive to the condition of my soul wanted to take me deeper. He began by reminding me of another “what it’s not” that I’d heard many years ago:

Trust is not stoop-shouldered, foot-dragging, sighing resignation.

Now my mom put a high importance on good posture and those threats to strap a board on my back if I didn’t stand up straight worked on me! But inwardly I saw that I was walking through life stoop-shouldered. Forward progress seems impossible when you see very little hope so foot-dragging becomes the norm (another thing that seriously irritated my mom). And sighing. There was lots of sighing.

God gave me the mental image of a teeter-totter, or seesaw, as we called them as kids. The fulcrum was my Faith and the balance point was Acceptance. One one end of the plank which lay atop my faith was Trust. On the other end was Resignation. He showed me that Acceptance can go either way and led me to look up the actual definitions of trust and resignation:

Trust – firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something

Resignation – the acceptance of something undesirable but inevitable

At the same time I was living in my stoop-shouldered, foot-dragging, sighing resignation I was also proclaiming my faith and trust in Him. But I didn’t really trust Him. I didn’t have a firm belief in His reliability that these negative experiences and circumstances in my life would have purpose. I didn’t really trust that He would work anything good for me through these unsatisfying conditions, so I chose acceptance. Acceptance of something undesirable but inevitable. Sigh. Living without hope, even if it’s only in certain areas of your life, is hard. I was like Solomon “So I say, “My strength has perished, And so has my hope from the LORD”* but with a tone like Eeyore “It’s all for naught.” More sighing.

Once again God brought me to a place of choosing: trust or resignation? I can’t have both and call it faith. Trust offers hope – the expectation of good, the very opposite of resignation. It doesn’t seem like a hard choice, hope is ALWAYS better than despair, but it takes effort. It takes a willingness to return to fervent prayer over those things I’d left in my pit of self-pity. And once again, I chose to trust that He is faithful and just and has greater things in store than I can possibly imagine. He is God. He is worthy of my trust.

Quite frankly I’d rather live a life in hope with the risk of never seeing my dreams realized than to continue on in stoop-shouldered, foot-dragging, sighing resignation, for how can I accomplish my purpose of leading others to Him? No one wants to follow resignation. And that little black cloud? Dissipated in the presence of Hope.

*Lamentations 3:18

What it’s not” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

 

children, Christian, church, Encouragement, Faith, family, God, gospel, Jesus, loss, Spiritual, Uncategorized

We are they

He stood in front of me, his small frame literally quivering with energy. I knelt down so that we could be face-to-face as I welcomed him into the large group and helped him find a seat. He sat barely long enough for his feet to leave the floor before he got up, excitedly asking me if I knew who Voltron was and did I have a Voltron at my house? I told him I did not which seemed to concern him. But then, everything seems to concern or interest him. All the time. He must be the most animated and expressive and energetic young boy I have ever met!

It was about time to begin so I pulled him and his sister away from each other and toward me. Again, face-to-face, I tell them how happy I am they are there, but it’s time to take our seats and leave each other alone. Between every few words I am reminding them to look at me while we talk. This proves to be quite challenging as the ceiling, the carpet, the other children, and my bright pink nail polish are just too enchanting. I’m explaining to them that it will only be a few minutes they must sit before going to their class when he looks me straight in the eyes, completely focused. I’m feeling a measure of success as I finally have his attention and will surely have him seated soon. He’s leaned in so that we are almost nose-to-nose when I notice his expression – his brows are deeply furrowed and his eyes reveal what can only be described as alarm.

“Why are your eyes cracked???” he asked.

“What?”

“Your eyes are cracked!! I can see the red cracks!”

“Ohhhh…”

Yeah, he was focused all right. Hadn’t heard a word I’d said. I’m quite certain this little one is going to provide me a lot of writing material!

He, like many of the children I see each week, has the blessing of a good home and family that will teach him and train him to be a good person. They will invest in his character development as they eat and play ball and watch superhero movies together. He has generations of Jesus-followers who will love him and guide him, pray for him and with him. Oh, they will worry and wonder often what to do with all this energy, but they will exercise their faith, discern his gifts, and feed his soul with good.

But what about the others? The children who don’t have that.

xxx-police-tape-generic-photo

I am sick over the happenings of the last 10 days. Another school shooting. The news and every form of social media offer us multitudes of opinions, supposed solutions and blame. Lots of blame. Surely someone is to blame. Something is to blame. Let me blame some person, or people group, or organization, or corporation, or anyone or anything that will make me feel better, let me off the hook, because what could I possibly have done to prevent this?? THEY failed. THEY didn’t do what they were supposed to do. THEY should have stopped him!!

What if WE are THEY?

We didn’t know that shooter. We had no impact on him as a person. And that is sad. But what if we decided to influence our world proactively in an effort to thwart evil before it has a chance to take seed in the life of a young person? What if we invested in the lives of the children around us, in our neighborhoods and communities? What if we actually decided to live out the call of the gospel with a focus on young families, taking them under our wings to love and encourage them, being their “village” as they raise their children?

What if we stepped up to serve before someone came to beg for help? What if we sought out the places children gather so we could be Jesus to them, loving them and helping them become good people? What if we, God’s people, showed up in our churches and schools and community centers and civic clubs so often we would have to wait in line to serve? What if we sacrificed that hour of sleeping later on Sunday mornings and spent that time helping to teach little ones, or skipped the 2 hour movie we’ve seen over and over and invited a young family for dinner? What if we dared to volunteer in the activities hosted for teens so that we could reach that one whose family isn’t open to our offer of friendship, the one who’s afraid of an empty future? What if we actually believed that God has called us to serve, to help those in need, realizing that there is no greater need in the lives of our children, all children, than to know they are loved and that God has good plans for them?

We are they.

There are things to be done. Are you serving? There is no Jesus follower retirement plan. We are called to serve others until He calls us home. We can dare to step out of our apathy and complacency and into actions that have eternal value, here and now. This is how we give hope to the children, teens, and families of our day and time who are surrounded by the same evil reports you and I are struggling with. This is how we change our world.

…let us not love merely in theory or in speech but in deed and in truth – in practice and in sincerity. 1 John 3:18

We are they” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

 

Bible, Christian, Faith, God, grief, loss, prayer, sorrow, Uncategorized

Entering empty

19-1168x657

It’s New Year’s Eve. It’s not even 7pm and I’m in my pjs, trying to stay awake until a reasonable time to call it quits for the day. I will not see the ball fall in Times Square. I will not watch the clock until it ticks at midnight. I will not participate in any activities involving fireworks other than trying to drown them out in order to rest. I will not welcome the new year in any other way than a good night’s sleep. I hope.

My thoughts about the new year have been somewhat void of excitement. I have plans that are good and goals to be reached, but they remain factual in nature, currently lacking the enthusiasm I’ve had in past years. 2017 has been, quite possibly, the most difficult year of my life and I am spent. David and Paul of the Bible spoke of their lives being poured out in the noble efforts of serving God and teaching others. My actions do not compare to their sacrifices for the cause of Christ, but the words poured out resonate with me in this time of reflection.

This year provoked an onslaught of emotion that I wasn’t expecting and which seems now to have sucked the energy from my soul. I began the year tired and only seemed to grow more so with each month that came and went as the duties of my new job increased, peaking with absolute exhaustion by summer’s end. But my hopes for a restful fall season were washed away by a hurricane. Literally. Experiencing the storm was profound and the recovery was difficult and exhausting, both physically and emotionally.

Then Mama died. The depth of my sorrow knows no end, the vacancy in my life impossible to be filled by anything else, my mourning so heavy it is as if I can’t breathe.

However, if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that my feelings do not determine what is or is not real, and certainly do not dictate what lies ahead. The emotions themselves are real and serve a purpose I may or may not understand. I had the energy in my younger years to suppress and ignore them. Besides the completely unhealthy nature of that approach, now I simply am too tired to hold them at bay. They have overtaken me whether I wanted them or not. I trust hindsight will sooner or later bring insight.

I’m not afraid of the future. My faith is intact, my confidence is not shaken, my resolve to move forward is sure. I’m simply entering the new year empty.

I’ve spent the day resting and praying, acknowledging my vast need for my Savior all the more, assured that He will come through at the right time and fill me once again with an enthusiasm for life. But for now, it’s ok to be empty. It’s enough to rest. Enough to be still and know He is God. It’s not a bad way to start a new year.

Psalm 46:10

Goodnight and Happy New Year!

 

Entering emptywas written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

 

 

 

death, Encouragement, Faith, family, grace, grief, loss, love, mothers, prayer, tears, Uncategorized

Her hands

mom's handAs agonizing as this photograph is for me, it is equally precious. I’ve photographed her many times, but trembled this day as I captured the image of her hand, our hands together, one last time. I don’t remember the days when I was small and she reached to hold my hand for guidance, protection, and comfort. As I reached for her hand this time, I don’t know if she knew I was there or not. And as much as I hoped she felt comforted by my touch, I know I was desperately grasping for my own comfort more.

Her hands became to me more beautiful with age. Except for the limitations presented by a weaker physical body, she really didn’t mind being old. She wore it gracefully. She would scoff at that statement as graceful is not a word she would have ever used to describe herself. For the better part of her life she remained always more a tomboy than a lady, strong and capable of doing things the average woman never considers. But she was graceful. She was full of grace.

DSC_0275_edited-1These are the hands I will remember. Hands that worked hard but were often gently folded in prayer. Hands that yielded plenty of discipline when needed but always provided the love that buffered any punishment imposed. Hands that were dampened with countless teardrops as she faithfully prayed over our lives, growing in her own faith with every silent word. I can’t remember ever hearing her pray aloud. That just wasn’t her. But I remember seeing her pray in silence throughout my life and that image taught me much.

It’s funny the things that make an impression. How the memory of something so simple, something that would normally be perceived as mundane, becomes something intimate and powerful to those who see its beauty. We are walking this grief road together, my siblings and I, past the difficult decisions that had to be made, now taking the time to share the little things in an effort to process the immense loss we feel.

The following is from one of my sisters:

Sorting Beans (2)“Physically, I never resembled Mother in any way that people took note of, but, especially as I have aged, I have noticed hand gestures that mimic hers. I was handling things pretty well today, but then I went to start a pot of pinto beans. When my hands pat out the beans on the counter to sort them, they are her hands. Today I couldn’t help but wonder how many thousand dried pinto beans her hands touched over the years. I don’t know when she quit cooking beans, but it was well after I left home. The patting the beans flat on the counter and sorting out the dirt clods, rocks, and bad beans was a ritual that I must have watched her do hundreds of times throughout my childhood. Today it made me cry.” 

Oh how we miss her.

 

Her hands” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

Photographs by Kay Stinnett and Judy Webb and cannot be used without permission.