“Wives, submit to your husbands.” This sentence has seriously bothered me, and I don’t even have a husband. It just sounds so. . . wrong. I believe the Bible to be true, wholeheartedly. But how in the world could this still apply? Why would I ever want a relationship like that?
I see scenes of domestic violence. Abuse. Women who need to be freed. The word grates on my heart: submit. That’s probably why the word is sour to you, too. You’ve seen situations where it is most definitely not OK.
Some men should be locked up for what they’ve done to women, and that makes us
You know those situations that make you feel utterly powerless? They have a knack for bringing us to our knees, don’t they?
So many things bring us to this state. Sickness. Uncertainty. Failure. Mental struggle. Fatigue. Temptation.
Even small problems and conflicts can debilitate us. You know when something like that just gets to you? When you think you should be totally fine, but for whatever reason you feel completely conquered? Unable?
I’ve been blogging for a year. That kind of blows my mind. I’m so thankful for all of you, who have followed my words and given me such sweet encouragement. Writing out my thoughts and pains, applying God’s truth to them, and posting the full of it can be hard: but there's a greater purpose to it all.
If you can connect to my experiences, problems, and realizations, it’s worth it. If you can come to know God in a more relational, tangible way, it’s worth it. If you can start your weeks with encouragement that impacts the way you live, it’s worth it.
Blogging has been far more impactful and joyful for me than I’d expected. I've learned a
A middle school journal can be a scary place. Recently, I read through some things I wrote in 6th grade. I had made a “dreams” section, and the things I found there broke my heart. “Blonde hair,” “skinny legs,” “all the boys like me,” “all the girls like me,” and “Aeropostale clothes” were the main ones. (Aero was quite important to us back then). This deep longing for acceptance and a certain image is probably 100% normal for a middle schooler.
But echoes of these longings haven’t budged a bit in my heart since then.
This weekend, I went to a retreat with Cru. It was a time of renewal, worship, feeling the presence of God, and wise teaching. Retreats are so incredibly powerful.
I’m standing on the outskirts of an expansive muddy pit. Deep, rancid, sticky mud. Its personality fills the air. Thick and oppressive. I know I should turn around and run back home, but something holds me there. Shame.
I am poor and needy. My sins are far more than the hairs on my head: in fact, they fill this pit before me. Yes, this is my own personal pit. Comprised of my sins. There are so many, it hurts my brain. I consider the ones I hadn’t even noticed: selfishness, obsession with my image, pride. How could I ever number them? I look down at the edge, where mud meets matted grass. With familiar strides I step in, up to my calves.
Hello! I'm Anna, a college student living in the Midwest. I'm a strong believer in uncontrollable laughter, powerful words, and a morning cup of coffee. I pray these posts will encourage you to live a full life with and for God: unhindered. Follow me on social media for post updates!