Taking the Steps to Forgive Oneself
In situations where there is regret for what we cannot undo, even as we process it again and again and again, we find ourselves arriving at a place of self-judgment and self-recrimination.
In situations where there is regret for what we cannot undo, even as we process it again and again and again, we find ourselves arriving at a place of self-judgment and self-recrimination.
Show me a faith that continues to expect good from God amid catastrophe and I will show you a faith that people notice.
All relationships ought to be accorded the justice of peace because it’s a human right to feel safe.
I see you tell yourself, “I’m a pretty good husband and I’ve got a pretty good marriage,” all the while having no idea what’s really happening.
Everybody in the grasp of the silent abuse that renders their hope to despair would do anything to change their situation and experience.
Grief leaves us alone in that crowded room where everyone else is alive and awake and of good cheer.
Forgiving people who have just moved on without having to face the injustice they caused is excruciatingly hard.
In letting go of what we cannot change, we experience acceptance, and in another language that’s peace.
When we act in lovingly patient, kind, and generous ways, we heal, we are restored, our hearts are kept healthy.
You know there’s no limit to both pain yet also the unequivocal presence of God that meets people in it — by faith.
Being vulnerable is about the most courageous thing we could do, especially when we’ve endured the trauma of someone betraying our trust.
Even if the other parent of our children has done unspeakable crimes, it’s not our place to be unkind.
It is not for us to get upset about other people’s behavior over which we have no control.
The most loving thing about giving someone an opportunity to change is it invites them into a larger version of themselves.
Lament is central to true healing, one day at a time, by faith over the long haul.
As in all relationships, intimacy’s supreme moment is safety in being able to be completely honest in the relationship.
Death gives life its meaning if only we can view the whole of our lives, every single aspect, through the lens of, “This life is fleeting.”
What ultimately drew me out of that depression was Proverbs.
Overcoming addiction is the easiest hardest thing. There’s a way that works every time.
Everything that the church does that doesn’t serve God’s purpose will need to be broken.
The psalmist calls for the Lord to contend with those who contend with them, to fight against those who fight them.
There’s a secret for growth unearthed in the absolutely paradoxical step of sharing our weakness, our guilt, our shame.
When we are facing momentous and challenging times, we don’t sense the strength and comfort we’d gain from the counsel and support of empathetic others.
Stress does something to us, and over the longer term, it changes us.
The only way we can be kind over the long haul is by nurturing kindness within.
Addiction is such an understandable response to pain because as human beings we need to escape it.
This is not a message for the masses, but it could be one for you if you’re about to throw in the towel.
There is a time for depth and intimate sharing, just as there is a time for superficiality and distance.
When life is given away for the purposes of love, a force within us grows and overflows.
Suffering often leads us to a pathway right to the door of God’s presence.
Judgmental attitudes and punishing behaviors don’t come from a calm, serene core—it comes from a place within that is deeply insecure.
We need to hold back rash action that will cast the fragments of our dreams.
Healthy relationships are rewarding but they can be harder to maintain.
Resilience is required just as much for when chips are increasing as much as when the chips are down.
At just the time you surrender control, you gain control.
Most of all, service is a string line to life.
Believing in a person’s resilience to bounce back after failure is inherent in their spiritual survival.
Indeed, we cannot manipulate our family and think that good things will come.
There comes a point where that material blessing has our spiritual blessing ebbing away.
The Christian way of looking at death is paradoxical.
We’re to have the same zeal for poise in the ‘triumph’ of adulation as we are during the ‘disaster’ of condemnation.
The blessing of facing our pain, our hardships, our truth that can’t be denied, is freedom.
What if the good part and the dark part are one and the same?
It is the disordered place, the place where life makes little or no sense, the place of death and of grief.
The entitlement mindset wins neither friend nor favor, yet there are many who insist on having everything their own way.
Suffice to say, the pain of child loss reaches the realms of the inexplicable, and I’m comforted that as a pastor, the Bible speaks of such pain the same confounding way.
We’re laying up for ourselves spoil that can never be spoiled.
If pain or loss or disappointment cannot get us down, if we refuse to give up when we don’t get our own way, when we can smile in our lonely being, nothing can defeat us.
While much of advocacy might consist of words written and spoken in direct context for the support of a person or group, it’s not an advocacy to espouse the theory and not support people in practice.