My Deliverer is Coming

Exodus 2:2-10

2 Now a man from the house of Levi went and married a daughter of Levi. 2 The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw that he was beautiful, she hid him for three months. 3 But when she could hide him no longer, she got him a wicker basket and covered it over with tar and pitch. Then she put the child into it and set it among the reeds by the bank of the Nile. 4 His sister stood at a distance to find out what would happen to him.

5 The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe at the Nile, with her maidens walking alongside the Nile; and she saw the basket among the reeds and sent her maid, and she brought it to her. 6 When she opened it, she saw the child, and behold, the boy was crying. And she had pity on him and said, “This is one of the Hebrews’ children.”7 Then his sister said to Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and call a nurse for you from the Hebrew women that she may nurse the child for you?” 8 Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Go ahead.” So the girl went and called the child’s mother. 9 Then Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this child away and nurse him for me and I will give you your wages.” So the woman took the child and nursed him. 10 The child grew, and she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter and he became her son. And she named him Moses, and said, “Because I drew him out of the water.”

Baby Moses floating in the Nile River may not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about Christmas, but follow my thinking for a minute. 

It's hard to wrap my mind around Pharaoh's evil choices. I can't even begin to imagine the fear Moses' mother must have felt. She'd done all she could to protect her son, so she put him in God's hands - and God delivered not only him, but the entire nation through him. Her son was sent to save his people, and God kept him safe.

Do you see it? The foreshadowing in Exodus is so powerful! Pharaoh sentenced all baby boys to death, just as Herod would do. One child was miraculously saved - first Moses, then one day, Jesus.

It reminds me of the Rich Mullins song "My Deliverer." It talks about Jesus, while He lived in Egypt when Joseph and Mary fled their home to keep Him safe. It talks about Him hearing songs the captive children used to sing. My favorite line, though, has to be, "Jesus heard the whole world cry for the healing that would flow from His own scars - the world was singing, my Deliverer is coming..." 

Even before the time of Moses, the world was crying out for the Savior, the deliverer promised from the very beginning. Long before Jesus came to earth, God was already telling His story, whispering a promise that He had not forgotten. No matter how dark things seemed, God was working. He kept His promises. He always does - so this Christmas, and every day, we celebrate.

The MOB Society

I'm excited and honored to have a guest post up at The MOB Society (Mothers of Boys). I love this ministry! You can see my post here: http://www.themobsociety.com/2013/11/26/let-them-see/

Already Enough

"You idiot." The words slipped out before I even thought about them, whispered in the early morning darkness. As I tiptoed through the house, trying not to disturb my family, I tripped and bumped into a door, once again displaying my massive lack of grace. So the harsh words came out - words I would never speak to someone else, but found it far too easy to direct at myself.

I've struggled with my self-image as long as I can remember. As a child and teen, I was painfully shy, awkward, and very much an introvert, much more comfortable spending time with books and horses than with people. I wasn't talented. I definitely wasn't athletic. I was never the pretty one. I was the one who would "find someone who loves her for her sweet personality" according to a friend's mom. The words she didn't say were just as obvious: I would never find a man who thought I was beautiful because I wasn't enough.

"Not enough" could pretty much sum up Leah's life, too. She lived in her sister's shadow - the older sister, the ugly sister, the sister who just couldn't measure up to Rachel.

I feel her pain. I think I get Leah's story so much because I have been Leah. My life doesn't look like hers, but we're alike in so many ways. For so long, I struggled with being enough. I was't pretty enough or athletic enough, so I tried to find fulfillment elsewhere. I dieted in hopes of being thin enough. I studied endlessly in the hope that my grades would be good enough. I spent so many years trying in vain to find the one thing that would make me feel worthy. 

That's exactly what Leah did. She tried so hard to be enough for Jacob. She knew she wasn't loved, but when she gave him a son, she thought surely Jacob would love her. But he didn't. Time after time, son after son, she hoped and prayed this time everything would change, but it never did.

How many of us do the same thing? We search for that elusive thing called "enough." If I was thinner, prettier, smarter, more successful; if I had a better job, a bigger house, a husband, a degree. The sad fact is, we will never be enough in this world. But what the world thinks of us isn't what matters. 

To your Father, you are already enough. God loves you, just as you are, with all your failures and imperfections. You are His daughter, His priceless treasure, His masterpiece. You are inscribed on the palms of His hands.

 

It took Leah a while to figure this out, but she finally got it:

Gen 29:35    And she conceived again and bore a son and said, "This time I will praise the LORD." Therefore she named him Judah. 

She might not be enough for Jacob, but to God, she was perfect.

God has already given us a reason to praise Him - He has shown us that in Him, we are enough. We don't have to measure up. We can't measure up. But He embraces us, with all our imperfections, and shows us that we are already enough.

 

Leaving Fear Behind

I wrote just a few days about my dreams of being a writer. It's been a scary journey, both writing and revealing my dreams of writing. So much of the journey has involved learning to leave my fears behind.

Last week, I got amazing news that made all the fears worthwhile: I'm getting published.

I recently sent a short story to Splickety magazine. It was my first fiction submission ever, and I was terrified. Honestly, my husband is the one who talked me into submitting it. A week ago today I got the email that changed everything - my story was accepted. It will be published in the first ever issue of Splickety Love on February 14.

From the time I first read Little Women when I was nine years old, I dreamed of being like Jo March, my favorite character. I wanted to fall in love, get married, have a houseful of boys, and write stories. Today, I stand amazed that God listened to those dreams of that little girl in south Arkansas, and He answered them. I can officially say that I am a writer.

Hello, I'm a Writer

Hello, my name is Amanda, and I'm a writer.

Photo credit: Tonya Salomons @ Stone To Heart

Artwork by Kathi Denfeld @ Lo-ly-gag

 

I still can't say those words aloud. It's too scary. The best I can do is type them. There's an expectation, a kind of reverence, attached to that single word, "writer," and I just can't say it along with my name yet.

I blog. I write fiction. I've submitted a query for an article to a major magazine, a short story to another magazine, and I've entered a huge fiction contest. (Now the waiting begins - it will be at least December before I hear back from any of them.) I've won a small writing contest. A few posts have been chosen as favorites in the weekly link ups I write for. My laptop and iPad are filling up with writing - blog posts, short stories, scenes and pieces of what will eventually (I hope) be a novel. So why can't I tell people "I'm a writer"?

 The biggest reason is fear. I know the next question will be "What have you written?" Nothing published, except my blog. I can't point to a book or story or article yet. I don't have concrete evidence that I am a writer. The fear lingers at the back of my mind - what if I never do?

What if I tell everyone "My name is Amanda, and I'm a writer," but nothing happens? What if there are no articles, no published stories, no books? Then what?

I think I'm still waiting for that magical moment when I'll really feel like a writer, when this whole dream I've had since nine years old will come true. I'm not sure if it will happen with the first article, or the first paycheck, or when I sign a book contract. 

I'm not sure when it will come, but I can't wait for the day I can fearlessly say, "I'm a writer." Because deep down, that's who I am. I'll write whether there's a contract or not. I'll write even if I never get a paycheck for it. I'll write because it's my release - it's what I have to do. It's what I was made to do. That's what really makes me a writer.

 

God's Daughter: Coming Soon!

It's been a really long time since I read a historical fiction novel. I really enjoyed them in the past, but for some reason I just haven't picked on up in a while. I was so excited when my friend Heather Day Gilbert told me about her historical novel, God's Daughter, and offered me a chance to read an advance copy of it. I can sum it up in one word: WOW!

 

God's Daughter tells the story of Gudrid, daughter-in-law of Eirik the Red, the first documented European woman to have a child in North America - and one of the first Christians among the Vikings. Gudrid, already twice widowed, finds herself struggling in her marriage, homesick and struggling to adjust to her life in the New World. Her character is so real. She's honest in her struggles, and so easy to relate to as she tries to follow her faith in a society that is just beginning to learn about Christianity.

 

It's not just Gudrid - all of the characters are fantastic. I honestly couldn't put this book down. I found myself getting so wrapped up in the story, in the lives of the characters. I stayed up late to read just a little more and finished it in just three days. I cannot wait for the second book in this series! Heather has made my love historical fiction again.

 

You can find out more about Heather on her blog and more about the book on Goodreads. God's Daughter will release THIS FRIDAY on Amazon. Grab a copy as soon as you can - you don't want to miss this book!

Remedial Faith

Failure. Somedays I think the word should be scrawled across my forehead for the world to see, so they'll know what they're getting into. A few others could go with it, maybe in smaller print under the main theme. Loser. Not good enough. Mistake.

If there were remedial courses for faith, I'm pretty sure I would be enrolled. I would be that student who shows up semester after semester, trying but never really getting the hang of things. I would be the person the teacher looks at and thinks, "Really? You again? Why don't you just quit - you'll never get this right anyway."

I try to be a good Christian. I try really hard, but it doesn't always work. I brush aside my time with God in favor of other, less important things. I lose my temper. I complain. I let bitterness or discontentment take root. I battle the same sins over and over again, and too often, I lose badly.

Time after time, I go to God, asking for His forgiveness - again. I hurt Him. I disobey Him. I promise Him I'll do better next time - but when the next time comes around, I mess it up again. It should be enough to make God turn His back and walk away from me.

But He doesn't. For reasons I can never understand, He loves me. He loves me when I can't even love myself. When I call, He runs to save me. He picks me up when I fall down. He pours undeserved grace into my life. How can He love me like that?

He's the God who created the universe. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The God who parted the Red Sea and raised the dead. But you know what really amazes me? He's MY God. He holds MY world. He created it all - yet He cares about tiny, insignificant me, one woman in a sea of billions. He knows every detail of my life, every hair on my head, every mistake I've made, and He still loves me.

It's not just love. It's extravagant love, a love that would do anything, a love that gave everything He had to redeem me. God doesn't see me as a remedial student or a failure. I'm a slow learner, but He's a patient teacher. And when He looks at me, He doesn't see a mistake - He sees His daughter. He sees me with fresh mercy, even when I don't deserve it.