I have been trying to make truly yummy gluten free banana walnut muffins for YEARS! It seems like each time I try a recipe online, it is way too wet, way too dry or lacks flavor. I recently signed up to make treats for The Big Bake Sale for Social Justice – Border Families (https://www.facebook.com/bigbakesale/). For the past couple of days people have been posting pictures of their edible works of art. Kind of intimidating, but I’ve just decided that those of us who aren’t profesh, should focus on the “why” and then do our best. I believe that in doing this, everyone will be blessed. I decided to do something gluten free (GF). That way they’d look popular and sell quickly based on need/dietary demands, alone! HA!
So, after researching a bunch of previously visited recipes, I decided to try trusting my instincts and experience to make a better muffin. I have to tell you, these are the best GF Banana Nut Muffins I’ve ever had and my family agrees. My Honey even told me that he can’t tell they’re GF – which is a pretty good compliment from him!
I use all organic ingredients, except the salt, baking soda & baking powder, which aren’t available that way, as far as I know. I only use baking powder that is aluminum-free. I don’t add any sweetener, because the bananas are plenty sweet enough, imo, and I’m trying to eat a keto-alkaline diet, so I very rarely use any additional sweetener when I bake, etc.
You’ll need a food processor, measuring cups and spoons (unless you like to eyeball it, like me), a spatula, muffin pans and coconut oil to grease the muffin pan. I use a mini-muffin pan that has 24 pods in it and my recipe fills it up perfectly, with no extra and no lack. Fill the muffin pods up to the top and just a smidge more to have perfectly shaped muffins.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease all of the pods completely in your muffin pan, bottom and all sides. DO NOT use paper liners. Too much of your muffin will stick to the paper and you won’t get to eat almost 1/2 of your muffin. Trust me on this, just grease these babies really well. Set aside until you fill them with batter.
Combine in the food processor, the bananas, eggs, vanilla extract, coconut oil & monk fruit and pulse just until it’s all mixed together.
3 ripe bananas
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1/3 cup coconut oil
1 teaspoon monk fruit or stevia (optional)
*** *** ***
Then add the flours, the baking soda, cinnamon, baking powder, & salt and pulse until everything is combined well.
1 3/4 cups almond flour (NOT almond meal!)
1/3 cup coconut flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons Ceylon cinnamon
1 1/2 – 2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 – 1 teaspoon celtic sea salt
*Add 1/2 or pieces of walnut to top of batter.
Fill greased muffin pods with batter TO THE TOP. Bake in oven for 11-14 minutes for mini-muffins, 17-20 minutes for regular muffins. Checking for slight browning to indicate they are done, not much browning, as this will mean they’re overcooked, dry or burned. Remove when done and let cool away from stove/oven/heated area for about 20 minutes before removing, using a dull butter knife to loosen sides when necessary.
Please comment below and tell me what you think once you’ve tried this recipe yourself!
I’ve struggled for years with feeling shame for feeling pain at the lack of everything I received when I needed everything the most. Compared to so many others my neglect was minimal. The emotional abuse was a blip compared to the sexual and physical abuse so many people I hold dear have dealt with as children and as adults.
There is no winner or highest achiever because it’s not a competition. While it may seem natural to downplay one person’s trauma while contrasted to another’s seemingly deeper trauma, it all still remains trauma. There is no rule that if you don’t reach a certain amount of awful, you have to just stuff it down. These are our truths.
The irony is that often we follow this lifelong martyr routine of diminishing our own pain, when we should be bringing it all out of the darkness so that we can look it right square in the eye as it begins to lose its power in the light. The only way to turn this agony into something good is to hand it over to Our Father and do the work of facing it in the light as He calls us to do. Finally, we are called to walk through pain with others because we are called to love like Jesus. We are called to follow Him as He turns our ashes into beauty as we walk it out in the relationships He brings into our lives.
Your anguish is real. It’s good to see that without any obstruction. Having a counselor confirm my grief was absolutely freeing for me. Broken parents, teachers, friends often hurt us deeply because they don’t see their brokenness. Our charge is to see our wounds and not cover them up so that they fester, causing more pain as we soldier on. The truly courageous choice is to do the painful, valiant work of healing our festering wounds so that we can walk in the fullness of the identity He has for each of us.
We can wallow for a bit. Mourning is part of this pilgrimage. We can and should find trustworthy people to come alongside us as we do this hard work. I’ve found some wonderful people to help me as I’ve traveled toward health. Counseling can be so helpful. A good 12 Step program (not just for people addicted to drugs or alcohol) can be life-changing. I’m a big believer that EVERYONE should work through the steps and more than once. I’ve done it twice and plan to start my third round in the near future. It’s like a little Jesus tuneup for your emotional and spiritual health with other peeps who are just humble enough to know they need a Jesus tuneup, too. The Destiny Project is an extraordinary retreat for women. The men’s counterpart is called BraveHeart and I’ve heard nothing but great reviews. Inner-healing prayer (which goes by several names and can vary a bit, depending on where the facilitator was trained) can bring exponential healing in many cases and is something I’ve done in the past and am engaging in once again. One of the most helpful pieces in my “health toolbox” is the enneagram. Learning about this has helped my family tremendously.
Not everything will work for everyone. I went to counselors that I just didn’t click with. I didn’t do every step of the twelve perfectly. That’s why I’m so thankful that there are so many options. I’m grateful for people who have helped me speak my truth and didn’t shame me or compare my pain to other people’s pain. I spent too many years allowing satan to tell me that I was being a baby, (*See enneagram 2 and shame) so that I wouldn’t face my junk and move toward health. I pray you decide to ask Jesus to help you bring your stuff out into the light and begin your mission toward the beautiful identity He has for you. I pray you are protected from people who want to minimize what you’ve experienced. Lastly, I pray you have the courage to walk through the especially painful parts of the journey, knowing there is abundant freedom along the way.
Every family has them, right? It’s just how things happen in this American culture, especially in the generation before mine, which I often call the “sweep it all under the rug” generation. My mother was a pro at this. It always seemed so bizarre to me that she would preach to me about my siblings and I getting along better, when she kept so much from her own sisters. I would argue that it wasn’t really getting along and loving if you didn’t really know one another, but it was an argument that never saw resolution, because my priority was being known and loved, while hers was having “peace.”
I remember when I was around 10 years old and a cousin told me that she had visited the cemetery with her mother and there was a headstone with the name, “Baby McDowell,” (my maiden name). When she asked about it, her mother told her that my parents had lost their first child, a girl, when she was born. I was blown away! I had a sister! I know it sounds ludicrous, but with four brothers and a mom who wasn’t super chummy with me, I was thrilled that I wasn’t alone on some 10 year old level. When I went home to ask my mother about it, probably not with an abundance of sensitivity, I was met with such anger, I didn’t know what to do with myself. She refused to answer any of my questions and told me it was none of my business and my aunt had NO business telling her daughter about it. In the over 40 years since then, she’s never discussed it with me.
Later, as a young adult, I had to keep mum at extended family gatherings when another family member was in jail, for months at a time – not only once and not the same person. My mother was adamant about this, so the rest of us fell in line and helped keep up the facade. This meant telling our children to also lie to their relatives (because that’s healthy…). When I tried to explain how uncomfortable I was, asking my kids to do this, I was berated for telling my children the truth in the first place, as if I had done something completely idiotic and detrimental to my offspring and my family of origin all at once.
I was 19 and in college, dating the boy who would become my first husband, when I became pregnant and, as a result, had an abortion. My husband and children are all very aware of what my experience was and how it’s affected my entire life. While I wish this was not a chapter in my story, it is, and I believe the only way to change the trajectory of my children’s lives and their children’s lives, and so on, is to bring my secret sins out into the light and talk about what led up to and what happened because of those awful choices I made. I can say with some disgrace and a bunch of freedom that I have been relentlessly upfront about my bad choices with my children and that the good that will result from my transparency far outweighs the shame I’ve experienced.
“But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. 14 This is why it is said: ‘Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” (Ephesians 5:13-14)
With so many wounds, secrets and lies layered upon one another through the years, eventually my family of origin imploded. Secrets of abortion, miscarriage, a shotgun wedding, an illegitimate child, affairs, stealing money, the list goes on. It was both heartbreaking for me and somewhat of a relief. The carnage is still scattered all over the place and I’ve collected all of the pieces of the implosion that I want to keep. The ones I left behind are not pieces I want to include as I go forward.
The irony is that you’d be hard-pressed to find a family that doesn’t have these same or very similar skeletons in their proverbial closets, and yet, we all freak out and try to hide it when it’s ours. THIS is normal. We Sin. We make terrible choices. We are HUMAN. The goal isn’t to get through with less embarrassing sin than your other family members or the neighbors. The goal is to know each other and love each other through the good and the bad choices. The goal is to take the bad stuff and help others to not take the same detours, because if we don’t use that junk to cause some good, what in the world is the point?!
“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,[a]
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.” (Isaiah 61:1-3)
When my husband betrayed me several years ago, I remember so many things going through my mind. I felt horrible shame because my husband turned to someone else after I had tried so hard to be a great wife in every way I knew how. I did not want anyone to know about this and possibly take pleasure in it at my expense. I reached out to our church and they connected us to another couple who had gone through something similar a few years before us. They advised us to tell our children immediately. We did NOT want our children to know anything – which is ridiculous when I think of how I didn’t leave my bedroom for 2 solid weeks and they must have heard all of the crying and screaming I was doing on the regular. After a lot of prayer and some time, we took their advice and told our children. We also shared with them that this had happened with other family members in the spirit of getting it all out into the light and moving forward in freedom. It was one of the most devastating nights of our lives. I honestly didn’t think we would ever recover from all of the horribleness.
I’d love to tell you that we instantly became better than ever before, that once the truth was out, we all instantly forgave one another and moved on in perfect harmony. I could lie, but then I’d be starting that crap again and what would be the point of this post?! We did couple’s counseling, individual counseling, teenage counseling, and in the process of working toward health with boundaries and all the glitter, there was lots of fallout and sadly, some of it has not been resolved, yet.
I know one of the biggest reasons family secrets begin is because we are concerned about what other people think of us. We want to appear better than we are. I often refer to the time before the betrayal as our Stepford Family years because we worked SO hard to make it all look perfect – and by we, I mean me. On some level (and this is where my 2-ness came into play, HARD. * See Enneagram) I always believed that if I did enough for the people I loved, they would keep me in their lives because I wasn’t worth loving just because I was me.
SO, if you pour all you’ve got into being the perfect wife, then you finally burn out after 20 years and in your exhaustion your husband turns away because you’re not revolving around him anymore, all of your worst fears are pretty much confirmed. Which is why I found myself rocking back and forth immediately after the discovery and chanting, “I always knew I wasn’t worth it.” Satan had been whispering this into my ear my entire life.
In my diligent and often treacherous pilgrimage back to who I was always supposed to be, I discovered that I’ve always been worth it to My Father and that is more than enough. As the layers of lies were peeled off of my self, my marriage and my family, I could finally hear the voice that mattered most, the voice of My Father. Instead of the lies drowning Him out, His voice now drowns out satan’s lies.
Once I could hear His truth and accept His love, I was able to face my own “less-than-lovely’ traits and begin to work on replacing them with healthier tools. This meant more counseling, attending a Destiny Project weekend, working through the 12-Steps (again), inter-healing prayer, revisiting boundaries and how they are healthy, and loads more time with Him throughout.
In the year after the discovery of the betrayal, I was betrayed by one of my oldest and dearest friends (the only one I shared this horrific news with), some people in my husband’s family began (and continue) treating me awfully, and my parents requested that I stay out of their lives forever (and so I do). There were also many other incidents that were challenging during this period, and I can say it seemed more than I could bear at times, but mostly I had a peace like never before and because I FINALLY knew I was loved fully and unconditionally, I was able to not allow the rejection of me by other people’s brokenness to be my scale of self-worth. It was all very painful, but I can now look back and see that God was preening my life. In order to grow He has to trim away the unhealthy stuff, so that we can move forward without that unnecessary weight dragging us down.
In the past I would continue to insert myself into the lives of family members and friends regardless of how they treated me because I thought this is what good, christian women were supposed to do. I have more broken relationships with extended family than I would like to have, but I know that this is a chapter in my life and theirs, not the whole story, and if I continue to be in My Father’s will and follow His lead, then things will work out just as they should. Sometimes there will be reconciliation and sometimes there will not be, and in the meantime, He is growing me and preparing me for the next step on the path He has for me.
The other thing I want to say about bringing secrets out into the light is that you don’t have to share your stuff with the anyone who feels unsafe, especially if you are still working through the pain of it. Mrs. Smith, down the street, doesn’t need to know that your niece had a baby out-of-wedlock, especially if she is prone to gossip! But, if it’s about someone in your family, you should probs tell your family. The thing is, that too often those family secrets affect the way we parent, or love, or live. We may not even realize it, but once it’s out in the open and some time has passed, we may very well notice that we are living more from a place of freedom than ever before and that’s just better for everyone. I often wonder if the reason my mom didn’t really seem to get close to me as a child is because her first precious baby that she lost was a girl and since I was the only other girl, maybe I reminded her of her profound loss. Maybe that’s the reason it was easy for her to walk away from me several years ago over something very trivial. I don’t know. I probably never will, because family secrets.
The last thing I want to say about family secrets is: Just ask. Don’t do it like 10 year-old me probably did, but ask with gentleness and grace. If you think there is a family secret that you should have knowledge of, go IN LOVE to the person you think it involves and ask for the truth. Help him/her bring it out into the light and then extend grace.
I’ve had people come and ask me about choices I’ve made with such grace that confessing to them was a blessing for both of us. I’ve experienced other people coming at me with such judgement and condemnation that the only result was broken relationship and betrayal. We’ve all sinned. We all need grace. When we remember that and approach the people we LOVE in humility, God can make miraculous beauty out of our messiness. I know this because, many years after that horrendous night of bringing our devastating secret out into the light, my marriage is more authentic than it ever was and my husband & I have walked numerous others through this devastating journey to healing on the other side. Our three youngest children will always carry the pain of that chapter of their lives with them, but they have chosen to use it to help others and to grow with a kind of dependence on Our Father that often only comes from walking through a period of anguish from facing hard truths.
While the temptation to have others see me as having my stuff together is always lurking, I don’t ever want to go back to living in the dark. I know that living with my junk in the light is how I can best follow Jesus. It’s where He lives and even when my junk is in the dark, He knows, RIGHT?! In those moments of shame or rejection when I’m tempted to hide a detail or two, this thought will usually cross my mind, “HE ALREADY KNOWS!!”
“God, you know what I have done wrong; I cannot hide my guilt from you.” (Psalm 69:5)
– and it isn’t the fear of Him that steers me back onto the right path as much as the knowledge that living in truth and transparency is living in freedom. Living with hidden secrets and festering heart wounds is a life of imprisonment. I’ve lived there and while I struggle daily with how I appear to others, ultimately I want to be able to come to My Papa day after day, more and more in the identity He has for me. This isn’t a straight road with no detours or break downs, but it is a well-worn path of persistence, humility and surrender with light and freedom along the way.
There is something holy about bringing a new life into this world. The first encounter I had with Him was the moment just before I first met you on the outside.
You were all beautiful, pink, squishy and seemingly perfect. He was all love, grace, and truly perfect.
Once we took you home, you were all consuming, completely demanding, and somehow still so very close to perfect, while He was everywhere with no demands, just offering His perfect grace and unconditional love.
I am born again because you were born. Your agonizing and joyous birth set my life on a new and elevated path following Him that will ripple through generations.
You are the miracle I never deserved. You are the child that made me a mama and His beloved child, all at once.
You are deeply loved without condition, hoped for daily and prayed for always.
Happy Birthday, Beloved Child of His and mine.
My “Me” without Parental influence, is on her feet, poised in a defensive stance born of too many betrayals by those she has loved deepest and hardest, prepared to defend her “self,” yet once more, against the ugly and hurtful accusations of addiction and narcissism;
when, in the distance, the soothing, weathered voice of His daughter, shaped by the storms of betrayal coupled with the constant and unconditional love of Her Father, begins singing peace over my “Me.” The lyrics of His daughter’s song remind my “Me” of the numerous lessons learned, the abundant growth attained, and the beautiful, bumpy, earthly sojourn in which my “Me” continually grows into His daughter.
I stand in quiet confidence.
If I could go back
and do it all again
-or maybe just parts of it…
I would honor who He made you to be more than forcibly attempting to mold you into who I thought you should become.
I would listen more with the intent of hearing your heart and less with the goal of sharing my “wisdom.”
I would engage more in being a part of all of those wonderful memories and less in the role of martyred stagehand.
I would enter into holidays, vacations, and special gatherings with my hands and heart wide open instead of my everything being wound up and around unrealistic expectations that almost always led to disappointment and my embarrassingly bad behavior.
If I could go back,
I would remind myself that I don’t have to be perfect in order for people to love me and that even if people will never love me without condition, HE does and that’s enough.
I would give myself grace, and, in turn, give more grace to others. -Because NO one is perfect, we all make mistakes, and grace is such a beautiful place to live and grow in, unlike judgement and condemnation.
I would set healthy boundaries so you would feel safe and have a confidence that my wounded parenting wasn’t able, but desperately wanted, to instill in you.
OH, if I could go back and do it all again,
but I can’t – not even a little bit of it. So, I will not linger in “what-if’s” or “should-haves.” I will move forward, grateful with experience and wisdom that I lacked early on (and hope still to increase), accompanied by grace and love for myself and others born of my journey, prayerful that I will continue my pilgrimage, walking ever more fully in who I was created to become.
I planned and executed (with the help of my precious and sneaky youngest 3) a marvelous surprise birthday party for my Honey this past Saturday. He’s reasonably easy to be sneaky with because he’s very trusting. I often tell him that if I were a woman of less integrity, I could get away with SO VERY MUCH… He never even had a clue and seeing the look on his beautiful face when he walked through the door while 70+ of his favorite peeps screamed, “SURPRISE!!!!” was just about as perfect as it gets.
Yesterday I helped coordinate a women’s network luncheon at church and it went off without a hitch. My friend, Tamera, spoke beautifully and the food was pure yumminess from La Madeline. I watched several women reach out and connect in such lovely ways. It was beautiful.
The past couple of weeks have been FULL of extra work days, extended insomnia, and loads of fun meetings with friends. I recall noticing that my throat was a little scratchy last Thursday and I was fighting off a 3 day migraine along with it, but I just kept moving through, because there just wasn’t time to do much about it. I had things to do, places to go, a husband to surprise! So, yesterday, as soon as the luncheon was over and I walked through my front door, I realized I felt beat up. My tickle turned into a croupy cough in less than an hour. I was suddenly exhausted even though I had gotten 9 hours of sleep the night before. So, I’ve been in bed for nearly an entire day. My throat and chest feel worse, but I feel more centered and less beat up. Sometimes, He slows us down in such inconvenient ways…
because, in my case, it’s the only way I will listen.
Some of the best things have happened in my family in recent months. We are in such a great season. An old friend of mine, who turned out not to be much of a friend at all, once shared this sage advice, sprinkled with a bit of profanity: Enjoy the good times that you go through, because the %$&* times are coming!
I had spent way too much of what should have been joyful seasons, fretting about what was coming next or even believing on some level that if I enjoyed myself too much, God would punish me because I didn’t deserve to have joy.
So, the lesson He has been renewing in my life is to BE in this season of joy with my family. Celebrate. Give exuberant thanks. Praise Him for this blessed season. I know the junk is coming, as well as more beauty, and worrying about what’s next will do nothing to prevent anything bad from happening. It will, however, steal the joy of this season. I’m also a firm believer in praising Him in the dark times and I believe the joyful times fill me up in a way that makes it easier to walk through trials with faith.
Our world is crazy right now. Two Black men were waiting for a third man to join them at Starbucks. The barista called the police because they hadn’t ordered anything… yet. Several White patrons stated that the men were never asked to order or leave or even spoken to. They also stated that the men had done nothing wrong. The police arrested both men, taking them out in handcuffs, as the friend they were waiting for showed up. WHAT IN THIS CRAZY WORLD?!?!?!?!
I’ve gone to many coffee joints and seen multiple peeps on their computers for HOURS, never ordering anything OR ordering only a $1.50 cup of coffee. I meet with friends regularly and wait for them before I get my chai or whatever. I have NEVER in several decades of being white, been asked to leave, to order, or had the police called on me. Never.
The sadder thing is that Starbucks had a similar incident in Redondo Beach just this morning. You can watch it here: starbucks-accused-racism-yet-new-video-surfaces . Now, if I’m honest with you, I probably go to Starbucks twice a year. I’m very much a “support local” kinda girl, but now I can assure you I won’t be going there at all. We have to support the disenfranchised with our dollars. It’s the most effective way to make your voice heard.
Lastly, there’s this Cohen-Hannity debacle. What in the world?! As I begin to process this news, I have a few random thoughts…
It makes so much more sense now that Hannity has been almost obsessive in his support of Trump and his constant criticism of the FBI’s raid of Cohen’s files. Those two know Hannity’s dirt.
I’m not sure why Cohen is called “the fixer” when he clearly is not.
If Cohen was “fixing” the same stuff for Hannity as he has for his only two other clients (Trump and Broidy), then that gives “Fox & Friends” a whole new meaning.
Hannity is claiming that he only told Cohen things as a friend. So, why did Cohen keep files on his friend? If it was just friendly conversation, there is no attorney-client privilege, correct? Yet, Hannity says that there is. Pick a side, Sean.
What a day!
Growing up in my family of origin, it was normal to discuss how absurd other people’s choices were. I heard (and eventually said) things such as, “Who does that?!” and “Iwould NEVER act like that!” We pretty much had the corner on the market when it came to how to parent, how to behave in public and just generally how to do everything and how to be at all times.
I carried on this tradition with my own family for longer than I care to admit. At some point I realized in the midst of utter shame that I was the leader of my “judgmental & gossipy pack,” so I began praying a bunch and worked toward not criticizing almost everyone we encountered on the regular. It was clear to me that, while I believed almost every “normal” family did this on their way home from gatherings, it was not healthy, nor very Christlike, and I wanted better for my children. I wanted better for myself and my character.
Several years ago, after I had been intentionally working on extinguishing this ugly behavior, I felt very convicted and decided I didn’t want to participate in it with my family of origin any longer. This is when I realized that what we were doing was gossiping and I could put a name to my sin. Up to this point, it had honestly not dawned on me that what we were doing was judgmental gossiping. The next time I was on the phone and my family member began to criticize another family member’s parenting and marital choices, I calmly said, “I feel like what we’re doing is gossiping and I don’t want our conversations to be about this kind of stuff. I would prefer to talk about you or something else because…” And at that point the other person began screaming at me a bit maniacally, hung up on me, and then did not speak to me for almost 4 months. This was not how I envisioned this scene. I was certain that after I had poured so much prayer into it and was speaking out of my own shame and love that it would be received in kind.
I’d like to tell you that I never get in the car with my family and begin to chat it up about how so-and-so spoke to so-and-so very rudely or how much so-and-so bragged about his whatever, but that would be a lie. The good news is that since we’ve been working on this as a family for years, I can usually count on someone to guide me back to Jesus in love.
It’s not unusual for my husband, our three youngest children and I to occasionally discuss what we believe is gossip. Because while we believe that our family is a safe place to vomit without judgement, we also, now and then, cross the line into the realm of gossip and/or judgement. It is a fine line, and sometimes, when our emotions are high or our egos are bruised or someone’s heart has been broken, my mama-bear comes out in all of her ferocious “glory,” instead of my faithful daughter in her beautiful humility. Sometimes because we are all reeling from the unfair blow one of us received, we forget Who has us and we don’t pull each other back into His will, or toward the faith that He’s working it all out for a minute.
Now, let me just say that the only thing worse than not being gently pulled away from the ledge of judging and gossip is a confidant who immediately throws anecdotal christianity all over my pain, so that I don’t feel seen or heard, but I do feel as if I’ve been served a big old judgement sandwich. I know that people think that they are helping and pointing me back toward Jesus, but before doing that, a wounded person needs to feel safe, heard and not judged. (and if you ask my kiddos they will tell you I’ve done this a time or two)… Just the other day, one of my precious children was sharing the anxiety he was experiencing, and I immediately began wrapping it all up in a nice little b.s. Jesus package to which he replied, “I know all of that, Mom, I just need to express my feelings in a safe place before I can get there. Please don’t shame me.” I thought I was making him feel better, but, really, he just needed to be heard without judgement and without me trying to fix everything. – Like I could do that in a million years, anyway!
So, initially I joined right in to the sin of my family of origin. As an adult and especially, as a mama I realized this sin was wrong. Years after that I could name the sins – Judgement and Gossip. All the while, I have been praying about this, feeling shame off and on as I stumble, and then I heard about something called the enneagram. I’ve done plenty of personality tests, many of which have been extremely helpful and had a positive effect of my life such as MBTI, StrengthsFinder, love languages, and spiritual gifts tests. The enneagram, however, has definitely had the biggest impact on my life. In the evolution of this particular sin, it has been a game-changer. Your enneagram number is not a personality test, but it is more about determining the essence of who God made you to be.
I’ve been studying the enneagram for almost three years and my whole family is very into it. It has helped me see how I behave in unhealth and understand why I have been and done SO many of the things I’ve done and been since forever. Partnered with the other personality tests I’ve taken, I’ve been able to walk more fully in my daughter identity than ever before. It has also helped me understand more fully the people I love most in the world – and often other people who may offend or hurt me. As a 2, I listen to and read anything I can get my hands on that explains my husband and our children so that I can meet their needs in just the way they need them met. I’m all about meeting the needs of people before they even know that they have that need. As I’ve taken in this knowledge about other people’s essences/enneagram strengths, I feel as if my eyes have been opened anew and I am understanding how others view, react and behave in a way I never did before – especially considering my family of origin and the fundamental belief we cultivated that our way was the only and right way.
Which brings me to the next stage of the evolution of my sin… As I’ve learned more about others and their essences, I’ve realized how arrogant I’ve been in judging people through the years. Of course, I realized years ago I was gossiping and in that I was being judgmental, but now I also realize how arrogant it is to believe that the way I am motivated is the only correct way to be motivated – and that, of course, we all think the way we believe is the correct way or we wouldn’t behave the way we do. This may seem very obvious to most of you, but it has been revolutionary for this girl. In learning about each number of the enneagram, I’ve learned more about the lenses we each look through because of childhood wounds and what motivates us at our core.
There are times when I wish I would’ve known about the enneagram before I had married or had children, so that I could’ve been a better wife and mama, or just before I made SO MANY MISTAKES, not because I would not have made any, but because I would’ve made less and had more grace for myself and everyone who crossed my path. I’m more than thankful that my children have this tool at such a young age and that they understand it isn’t just a narcissistic information source so that they can talk about themselves or make excuses for their personality flaws, but a rich source of information about how they can work (hard) toward growing into the person God is calling them to be.
I’m thankful for the evolution that God has enriched my life with. I won’t lie to you and say it’s been a joyful journey… not even most of the time. It’s always been worth it, though, and the alternative is not even worth considering for this girl.
We look to our earthly fathers to tell us the truth of who we are. This is what God calls on fathers to do, and when they don’t, as is too often the case, we are left empty and open to every lie that we are told. We live in a culture that satan has chosen to attack in such a way. An entire culture can be broken generation by generation through weakening the fathers. I’ve witnessed this in my own upbringing by a man who scorned Jesus and gave into his own weak pride on the regular, regardless of how it hurt him, his children or his grandchildren. I wasted years tying my Heavenly Father’s loving hands behind His back, projecting my earthly father’s angry, disappointed face onto His.
I know very few people who honestly revere their fathers for genuine leadership and/or godliness. I know some will read this and think I am seeking perfection. I am looking for men who pursue God and His will for their lives with all they have because they took the time to experience an intimate relationship with Him and have some understanding of how great His love is for them. These men will LEAD in HIS LOVE and that will change our culture generation by generation.
Men who live like this will understand that women have a place beside them and that through this partnership, God will move mountains, change lives and heal our land. There will be no place for degrading women in pornography, disparaging pay, sexual assault, etc. There will be no place for racism. With men and women truly after God’s heart will come the truth that we are all gloriously different, but equal; we will finally celebrate our differences and reparations will occur with a new humility born of seeing one another through His eyes.
The demand for pornography and other sexual immorality comes largely from broken men, who were most likely broken as young boys. We need men who will stand against this sin by coming alongside their brothers who are afflicted with this addiction, and help them bring it out into the light, so that they can be healed, and, in turn, come alongside those who remain in this sinful addiction.
We need to stand shoulder to shoulder with one another in love against those who oppress others, standing up for women, people of color and those who struggle with physical and emotional constraints. This is how we win as a people. We love like Jesus and we stand against sin as He does, without compromise or distraction.
Until there are more men who operate out of their love of and from God instead of their fear of losing money and power, hidden behind a shield of false godliness, we will continue to disintegrate, until we finally are morally bankrupt beyond repair. We must raise sons and daughters who fall into His arms and turn to Him in every circumstance. Knowing the Word is so important, but getting quiet with Him, professing our adoration of Him, and cultivating an intimate relationship with Him is where hearts are transformed and real world change burgeons.
Do you know how much He adores you? He waits for you and me, not just for an hour, or a day, or even just once. He waits for us over and again, with outstretched arms and unending love. He doesn’t turn away as we walk toward our sin. He is in the room with us, heartbroken that we are not choosing life abundant, ready to fight for us, if only we would turn from the sin we are pursuing, once again.
Make a plan to invest in your relationship with Him daily. Spend time pouring over His Word, full of rich wisdom, truth and love. Get quiet before Him. Cry out to Him. Invest in getting to know Our Father intimately. It’s the only way to start and win the Revolution. The alternative is much too grim and coming too quickly. It’s time for action.
There are times when I wish I would’ve used a glue stick instead of chapstick…