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No imagination required…

Aug 6, 2021 | Hope & Encouragement, Sacred Stories, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

There’s a story I love to tell of a mostly unknown woman named Jael. She singlehandedly won a huge battle for a whole tribe of people by doing the most unlikely and shocking thing. In the thick of the fighting, she offered the enemy commander (who was sneaking away) a safe place to hide, made him comfortable, and then, as he slept, drove a tent peg through his head and killed him. 

It’s a violent story, to be sure. (Which explains why it’s rarely told.) But just imagine if it had been, if she was known; if she was known by you…

  • Imagine if you had been been lulled to sleep by the tale of a shockingly brave woman who overcame every fear and did what had to be done – no matter what others thought, expected, or allowed.
  • Imagine if you’d had a model, a template, a subconscious plot line within that invited and compelled courage, boldness, and strength.
  • Imagine if it never crossed your mind to choose being good over being right.
  • Imagine if you had no idea what seen-not-heard even meant.
  • Imagine if  you never compromised yourself on behalf of another.
  • Imagine if no part of you held back, played it safe, or waited to be invited into the, arena onto the stage, or out of the shadows. 

Hard to imagine, isn’t it? 

What if it wasn’t? What if we just knew who we were – our strength, our wisdom, our  divinity, our sovereignty? No questions asked. No doubt. No wondering. Clear. Certain. Sure. Solid. 100% ourselves.

This is, at least in part, why stories like Jael’s matter. She moves us from *simply* imagining that kind of strength and courage to actually acknowledging it – to living it.

So, no imagination required – hear Jael’s voice on your behalf:

This I know – no imagination required: You are braver, stronger, and wiser than anyone knows, than even you know. 

This I know – no imagination required: You fight for what you love, for what matters most, for your very self – as your hands shake and your voice trembles and your heart races. Still and always – brave, strong, and wise. Still and always – bringing victory and peace. Still and always – worthy of endless song and celebration. 

This I know – no imagination required: I am Jael and you are my daughter, my lineage, my kin. 

She knows of what she speaks…

May it be so.

***** 

This I know – no imagination required: You are surrounded and supported, held and honored by more than just Jael. (Though she’s something, isn’t she?) Countless ancient, sacred women with stories and voices that remind you of who you truly are: brave, strong, and wise. Sovereign.  

I retell, reimagine, and redeem these stories – Jael’s and many more – in SOVEREIGNTY – my live, 9-week program. And companioning the stories is powerful and practical content about hearing and trusting your own wisdom, acknowledging your agency, stepping into courage, and holding on to hope. Every bit of this on behalf of you being 100% yourself, 100% of the time. No imagination required!

Registration is open for the cohort that begins in early September. Learn more. Apply today. Join me! 

The Women at the Tomb

Dec 19, 2018 | Hope & Encouragement, Sacred Stories, Women's Wisdom

All we have are the stories, based on the unreasonable experience of people we never knew–and the choice of whether to believe them or not. ~ Barbara Brown Taylor, Home By Another Way

“All we have are the stories.” Yours. Mine. Those of women throughout time, throughout history, heard, known…and not.

Here’s one:

Very early on Sunday morning the women went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. They found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance.

So they went in, but they didn’t find the body of Jesus. As they stood there puzzled, two men suddenly appeared to them, clothed in dazzling robes. The women were terrified and bowed with their faces to the ground. Then the men asked, “Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead! Remember what he told you back in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be betrayed into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, and that he would rise again on the third day.”

Then they remembered that he had said this. So they rushed back from the tomb to tell his eleven disciples—and everyone else—what had happened. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and several other women who told the apostles what had happened. But the story sounded like nonsense to the men, so they didn’t believe it.

Were it not for the women’s insistence on life, the story may have ended in dark grief and disbelief. They tell the story. They keep the story. They ARE the story!

The same is true today.

Women know death – of body, mind, and spirit. Still, we sing over the bones and at the grave.

Women name what is true, tell the story, and will not be dissuaded no matter how nonsensical it may seem.

Women know life – birthed, nursed, nurtured, healed, grieved, and restored. Resurrection, indeed.

What I need you to remember:

Jul 9, 2018 | Hope & Encouragement, Sacred Stories, Sovereignty

We are desperate to see ourselves in powerful and empowering ways. It’s no wonder: we have too-often and for too long been deprived of stories that remind us who we truly are. We are ravenously hungry for those stories, for the stories of women in our lineage, our line.

Take heart! Though we live in a world that has based its predominant understanding of women on the (poorly told) story of Eve, there is another one, almost the very last story of a woman in the very same text, who once heard, makes all the difference, who does remind us of who we truly are – over and over and over again.

A while back, I made a video about her, the Woman of Revelation 12. And I’ve spent time writing more about her. Including this:

Remember who you are. Remember who you are. Remember who you are, she says.

Anything, anyone, all that has made you feel less than, even remotely disconnected from the truth that you reflect entire galaxies, that you are a veritable constellation of beauty and strength, has not really seen you and somehow, in such, you have forgotten. This breaks my heart.

Remember who you are. Put on your gown of sunlight. Step into your silver-as-the-moon stilettos. Place your crown that’s laden with glistening stars upon your head. And glow, glide, blaze through your world. Shine light in the darkest of places. Bring warmth to the coldest of nights. Sparkle brightly in the dingiest and dirtiest of places. And in your own darkness, cold, and less-than-desirable places? Turn within, turn within, turn within.

Remember who you are. Remember who you are. Remember who you are.

This is all you need to know, all you need to recall, all that ever matters.

If you will remember who you truly are, all the unnecessary and less-than-worthy things that have taken up space and energy and time in your life will fall away. If you will walk through your world today and all days embraced by the celestial light that is yours, you will not falter.

If you will remember me, the Woman of Revelation 12, you will, without question, be able to step into who you are, take your throne, and don your royal robes. And then, oh, then…you will be able to be you, be you, be you. The you you’ve always been – though sometimes disguised and distracted.  The you you’ve forgotten. The you the world has been waiting for. The you you have been waiting for. The you I have always remembered and will never forget.

Remember who you are. Remember who you are. Remember who you are. Rise up. Shine. Beam. And then some.

*******

Have I repeated it too much? Can I possibly express it enough? It’s all I want to say.

Even more true, it’s all I want to hear. It’s what I need to hear. It’s who I want to be. More than anything. And it’s what I want for you…more than anything.

Remember who are. Remember who you are. Remember who you are.

I’m right about this…

Jun 25, 2018 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power

Chances are pretty high that if your desire is strong enough, acute enough, and impossible to dissuade, others will think you a bit crazy and probably way too much.

That’s the strongest indication that you’re on the right track.

Chances are pretty high that even if you get what you most desire, that more loss will yet come, that heartbreak will still occur, and that you will somehow yet endure.

That’s the strongest indication that you are amazing, strong, and more than enough.

Chances are pretty high that holding on to hope and letting go of control seem like complete contradictions and that you have the capacity to allow them both.

That’s the strongest indication that you are other-worldly and powerful beyond-compare.

Chances are pretty high that you will be called to stand your ground and defend that which you know-that-you-know-that-you-know is right and true and worthy.

That’s the strongest indication that you are oh-so-wise and most-definitely not to be triffled with.

Chances are pretty high that you need not listen to one voice / person / god / demon / cultural message / internal hiss that tells you anything other. And when you don’t?

That’s the strongest indication that you are listening to that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within; you believe you are worth being heard.

Chances are pretty high that I’m right about all of this. Not because I’m so amazing, but because you are.

No additional indication needed.

May it be so.

12 Years of Blogging

Nov 15, 2017 | My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power, Writing

I find it almost impossible to believe that 12 years have passed since I meekly created a WordPress site and began typing/publishing my thoughts, later my very heart.

12 years ago I would have never dared articulate my deeper feelings; it all seemed way too risky, way too fraught with consequence, way too vulnerable. Still and clearly, something in me wanted and needed to at least begin, to try, to speak (even if quietly and almost completely off the radar). If that were not the case, I would have never created the site in the first place. But I did. And I dared – bit by bit, slowly, tentatively, and in less-than-eloquent form to somehow be honest with myself.

When I look back at those early writings, I feel my heart’s ache all over again. Not so much in what was said, but in what was left unsaid. In between the lines I find and recall my every question, doubt, and as-yet unexpressed grief. I look back and recognize just how many of these were yet to grow into full expression and lived experience. Hardly pleasant, all of them; but no less true.

Isn’t that almost always the way of it?

Hindsight…

But there’s this, as well:

When we get closer and closer to our own edge, to the place that is calling us (even begrudgingly) into more strength, more courage, more capacity, and yes, more voice, we tiptoe all the more gingerly. We are afraid that the slightest misstep will cause all manner of disaster to befall. And we pull back. Unless we don’t. Unless, as we look out over that seemingly-treacherous and cavernous ledge, we lean forward. We risk the fall, the bruising, the shattering, the breaking – all on the slight chance that there will be a miracle, a soft landing, the ability to fly, much grace.

What enables the latter?

In my experience, it’s been the scary-but-consistent voicing of my thoughts, feelings, desires, beliefs, doubts, arguments, anger, and fear(s). It’s been the naming, the truth-telling, the achingly-slow movement toward honesty. It’s been being heard. Yes, this:

When we are heard, we are healed.

I do not mean to deny the value in good, self-reflective work. Of course, there is much healing and growth to be gained in the silence of our own minds and hearts. But if these past 12 years have taught me anything (and they have taught me more than I can possibly recount), this rings truest:

When I step out of the shadows (of my own mind, my own secrets, my own hidden stories) and into the light, most of what I fear does not happen; rather, just the opposite. The light remains – and grows. The shadows lessen. And strength surges, restores, and rebuilds.

And why? Because when I speak, when I let myself be heard, when I allow myself to be seen, then and only then do I realize that I am not alone. I never have been, of course. Not really. But when in my hardest, darkest places, you couldn’t convince me of that. Now you can’t convince me otherwise,

Now I know that the tougher the emotion, circumstance, or reality, the more I need to speak, be heard, and be seen.

And I am. Beautifully. Graciously. Kindly. Powerfully. Over and over again.

Not because I’m so amazing – but because those who surround and support and witness and mirror and call and invite and pour me coffee or wine or champagne are!

How would I know any of this if not for this blog? If not for this virtual platform through which one evening, long, long ago, I began to take the smallest and nearly anonymous of steps? If I had not allowed myself to speak, be heard, and be seen? I shudder to think…

So, the takeaways in all of this? Well, there are (at least) two:

The first one is for me: There is further to go, more distance for me to travel, stories yet to tell, darkness yet to expose. That is just the way of it for all of us – always. And being here, staying here, writing here is at least part of what invites more and more of the light (not to mention the miracles, the soft landings, the ability to fly, and the grace) again and again and again.

The second one is for you: May you speak or write or blog or call a friend or send an email or have the conversation that needs to be had. May you recognize that until you step into the light (no matter how tentatively, quietly, or timidly), the shadows remain. And most of all, may you believe this: the shadows are not your home. Then. Now. Ever.

OK. Maybe one more takeaway for us both:

WHEN we step into the light we’ll be seen – and met and surrounded and supported and loved. How can it be otherwise?

Here’s what I know-know-know to be true (learned through 12 years of blogging and MANY more years of life): we are not alone. Ever.

*****

I am profoundly grateful to so many of you – for reading my words (and hearing the many left unsaid, the many housed between the lines), for staying with me and standing by me, for offering me such encouragement over the years, for becoming my dearest and deepest of friends (you know who you are), for helping me, increasingly, to stand in the light – unblinking.