Correction: Flesh is a Liar.

Flesh is a Liar

Fear isn’t actually a liar. It’s a normal, emotional response whatever stimuli causes it.

Flesh is the liar. Our flesh says, “OHHH FEAR! GOODY! Let me use it to keep myself comfortable.”

I think I’ve been getting it all wrong. Seriously. If you’ve seen posts from the past, you know I have “Fear Is A Liar” written across my bedroom wall in very large letters, thinking it would help me get out of bed each morning as I read it.

But it hasn’t done that at all. It was kinda cool at first, seeing it up there in that popular cursive font.

You know what should be there instead? Someone’s art. Maybe mine, maybe someone else’s. Cause at least then, someone created something and it’s being admired.

No, instead I have a big, dumb, false sentence up on my wall.


I didn’t realize this misunderstanding until the other day when I was sharing with a group of friends how I wished I could be fearless, like Jesus was. Loving me, they quickly and gently corrected me.

 And he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed,  saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. Luke 22:41-44

Jesus freaking sweat HARD. People who are fearless don’t sweat in agony.

I often forget that Jesus was an actual human being with real, human emotions. I seldom remember that the Savior of the world asked His father to not allow what was about to happen, happen. He didn’t want to be betrayed by his friend, physically ripped to shreds and have the weight of the entire world’s sin (past, present and future) crush him to actual death.

Jesus wasn’t fearless, He was obedient. And because of His perfect obedience,  I have the ability to be obedient too.

So, what the hell am I even talking about? Aren’t I just arguing semantics? 

No, I don’t think so. I think there are some things we need to make distinctions about in this life, because they make a big difference in whether or not we actually come alive during the short duration we are here on earth.

Fear says, “That’s scary!”

Flesh says, “Exactly, so why bother?”

Fear says, “That’s risky!”

Flesh says, “…And you might fail, which would be sooooo humiliating. Just stay put instead.”

Fear says, “What if I actually succeed?”

Flesh says, “That’s uncharted territory, and you know how we feel about that (*cue self-sabotage).”

The Spirit says, “Be quiet and go right a song.”

Get where I’m going with this? Fear isn’t bad. Not only is it a tool that can prevent us from physical harm, but it also gives us the opportunity to overcome our fallen nature and be victorious.

It gives us the opportunity to be obedient. To engage the Spirit.

But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do. Galatians 5:16-17

The biggest reason I think this distinction is so important is because if we blame fear for our lack  of movement, we don’t take any of the responsibility for it. It’s all fear’s fault… right?

Nah, dawg.

The Creator bestowed upon all of us gifts, talents, abilities and ideas, and they are to be used in order to piece back together the worlds broken parts. I think that something heavenly happens when my flesh tries to seduce me with my fear and I choose not to give in. That’s one of those seemingly small moments, but a moment where God’s glory is taking place.

So, I think I’m gonna take those letters off of my wall.


I am uncomfortable and a little scared to start this post, which means it’s probably something I definitely have to write.

My mind goes blank when it knows it has to do something it doesn’t want to do, so I figured I’d just start it off by telling the truth about that.

There. The beginning is out of the way now. I started.

I’ve noticed something about people, and while there are a few exceptions to the rule, pretty much the general consensus seems to be that crying equals weakness. And we’d rather be damned than look weak. I’ve been a part of many conversations where a person is sharing something painful, and wants to cry, but can’t. They’ve shut that useful tool down a long time ago. I’ve even had several people tell me that they don’t want to cry because they don’t want pity, or to come across as weak. People just flat out say it.

What’s funny to me is that we are completely blind to the illusion that we are strong to begin with.

Don’t get me wrong, I struggle with this too. And while I am more comfortable with crying in front of others than a lot of people, I still hide it or force myself to swallow it, because I too believe the lie that I’ve got it handled. This comes into play when I’m around Daniel. It is excruciatingly difficult to cry in front of my husband.

Last night I was sitting at the computer, working on an overwhelming amount of Beard Sauce orders after a hectic week of helping my mom and brother move up here, Thanksgiving and Black Friday madness. For some reason I really wanted to listen to Miley’s Wrecking Ball song.

Side note: I know several of you just judged me so hard. But it’s one of the most honest songs I’ve heard in a really long time. For some reason, when celebrities or musicians “act out” or “go crazy”, Christians seem to feel entitled to judge them just as harshly as everyone else does, and it runs rampant on Social Media . Keep in mind that our right to our grace-less opinions died when we decided to pick up our crosses and follow Christ. That’s just as much for me as it is for anyone else, and I apologize for being a judgmental a-hole in the past just to get a laugh.

So, like I said, I was listening to Wrecking Ball, and I just started weeping. The first time I watched the music video, it was also the first time I had heard the song. It made me tear up then, but last night…

I process pain with two things: by listening to music and crying. I’ve been that way my whole life. The song pushes down on the nerve, causing incredible pain and forcing me to feel. Crying is a release of all the emotions and thoughts that have been stuck. When it’s over, I feel light and clear.

It’s a beautiful process, really. But I will subconsciously refuse to listen to music a lot of the time (even though it’s my favorite thing in the world) because I know what it’s going to do to me, and I don’t feel like being “weak.”

It’s not necessarily the content of the song that got me. It’s the fact that a human being is being verbal about how another human being destroyed her.

We destroy each other.

I’ve seen a lot of that lately, more specifically with my family. Evils I didn’t really believe in or understand until now are a part of my life.

Demons whisper lies into our ears, and we believe them. Then we tear each others hearts out, and leave the souls of our victims choking for life.

We wonder why people uses harsh substances to get through the day.

And while I have hope that the lights will be turned back on and souls will be restored, it doesn’t change the fact that there’s a lot of darkness hanging out right now.

We are all weak, every last one of us. Crying is an act of submission. It means that we’d rather do the uncomfortable thing that might help us gain a little bit of freedom. You can be an emotional person (like myself) and cry a lot, and still refuse to submit when it really counts. Even though I cried a lot last night, I didn’t do it in front of Daniel and I didn’t even tell him about it. I hid it, and I want to confess that. He’s the person I should be the most comfortable being weak in front of, but when you grow up not being able to trust anyone that’s supposed to love you, that’s kinda difficult.

But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.  And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.  And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. –Romans 8:25-28

I always think about these verses when I am so filled with sorrow and I’m crying so hard that there are no words to be said.

So, I don’t know, that’s what I’ve got today. I have no idea how to end this one as much as I had no idea how to start it.

Why don’t you cry?


I am a Whisper.



Thank you for this majestic display of how small I am.

If this field is a mere speck of dust compared to the vastness of Your creation, then I must only be a whisper.

And yet, You choose to call this whisper Your beloved.

I fight, struggle and kick to push away, and this piece of land obeys your every command without question.

But it’s me that You call child, while this beautiful pasture will die during winter’s season.

I’ll never understand it, but I’ll breath it in and let it fill my lungs and let it push out the mess that keeps me from breathing.

And I’ll surrender it all.