Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

How to Hear the Voice of God Better

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Do you remember the Kevin Costner film from 1989 titled Field of Dreams? In the movie (based on a novel) an Iowa corn farmer is walking through his field when he sees a vision of a baseball field and hears a voice say, “build it and he will come.” Although everyone thinks he’s crazy, he is so certain that he’s supposed to build a baseball field in his cornfield so Shoeless Joe Jackson can come play there, that despite public opinion he plows down his corn and steps out in this unconventional calling. I won’t ruin the plot for you if you haven’t seen it, but let’s just say that his commitment to carry forth the word he’s given does more for his personal life and spiritual growth than something as simple as a baseball legend coming to visit.

The words uttered in that film, “build it and he will come,” resounded with me deeply when I recalled them yesterday and not because I loved that old movie so much, but rather due to the spiritual significance they spoke.

If we build it, He will come.

Our bodies are a temple for the Holy Spirit, and as such, when we consecrate that space for Him, He is faithful to meet us there. The problem with our temples is they become too crowded for His Spirit to comfortably reside there. Our minds are filled with worries, and our hearts filled with anxiety. We harbor guilt, anger, and unforgiveness on the shelves of our mind. We spend our time on television, social media, or our busy schedule more than we do laying a good foundation in our spirit. Hey, I’m guilty too, but if you desire to hear more from the Lord, I’ve found you must close out the distraction and noise of this world to be able to listen. His voice is a whisper.

  

I’ve taken to practicing a daily unloading of the world. Usually first thing in the morning while in the shower I will quiet my heart and mind, close my eyes, and picture that I am standing at the foot of a throne. In the highest seat is Jesus, and I mentally and emotionally unload my burdens. I pray in surrender and tell the Lord something like, “today I give you all my anxiety, worries, and uncertainty. I exchange them for your Spirit and peace.”

I’ve noticed a tremendous upswing in my day with this simple practice of surrender. In it, I am acknowledging His supreme power in my life. I’m admitting I cannot do it alone. Many times I will imagine myself walking in a field with Jesus, simply spending carefree time with my Savior. I will pray out loud something like, “thank you that I am in you, and you are in me, and we are one with the Father, seated in Heavenly places.” By repeating these powerful words of truth I am acknowledging scripture, believing that the troubles of this world mean little compared to His power, His kingdom, and His plans for me.

When we can pray, listen, and read the Word, the Lord will speak to our hearts. He will impart His plans, His knowledge, and His heart, but I’ve found the key to hearing that still, small voice is pushing out the noise that distracts us. And when I say noise, I don’t just mean the television or screaming children. I’m referring to the noise in our heads, the to-do lists, or the lies from the enemy that say how we perform in life is more important than who God made us to be. The lies that compare us to others, or worry about the opinion of others versus who God says we are. To hear from the Lord is to lay down your life, meaning you would give up anything and everything, including and foremost the things of this world.

There is no room in our bodies, hearts, and minds for anything other than God, but we continue to fill the spaces with it. The thing is, those things don’t satisfy, they just leak out leaving us feeling empty. If we build it, though, He will come. If we empty our houses, clean them of the things not of God, and open the doors in anticipation of His Spirit, He will come and make His home in us. And much like our friend Kevin Costner learned, He will bring us much greater things than we ever imagined.

How I Support Black Lives Matter as a Christian

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I didn’t plan to revisit this topic. Sometimes discussing political matters feels like beating a dead horse, but I’m discovering that while some situations appear to be political, or perhaps are manipulated by politics, they are in essence a quality of life issue, a matter of relationship, and a practice of love. With that in mind, how can I not discuss a topic that brings so many questions. In fact, I’ve had so many people reach out to me concerning Black Lives Matter (BLM), that I feel it necessary to answer those questions. I just recently had a very kind email sincerely asking how I (a white, middle-aged, Christian woman) respond to BLM and still uphold my values and moral obligations. So, allow me to explain.

Do you recall how in scripture that when Jesus came He turned the religious world upside-down? Like, the Jewish, religious leaders had an absolute fit with His behavior. They couldn’t understand how a man who claimed to love God could hang out with sinners, tax collectors, or prostitutes. They couldn’t accept these teachings about eating flesh or drinking blood. Sure, He had His twelve (albeit, one would betray Him), but a large number of disciples/followers shrank back at the difficulty of His teachings. He brought this new covenant that people couldn’t quite understand, but when they did, it changed their life. Do you remember the Samaritan woman?

First, Samaritans didn’t interact with Jews. Jewish people considered themselves of a higher station than the Samaritans, but Jesus came to breakdown stereotypes and worldly systems. Second, let’s not forget this woman at the well was a big-time sinner. She not only had broken the code by being unlawfully divorced, but she was living out of wedlock with one man while still married to another. Dude! Why in the world would a man preaching salvation and forgiveness of sin decide to reveal Himself as the son of God to someone with five husbands?!

One thing I’ve discovered in my walk with the Lord is that we as humans get sidetracked a lot. We build our churches on a foundation other than the Cornerstone. What I mean by that is we have a tendency to place a lot of importance on the religious laws, and not so much on Jesus. He came to show us a new way, but over the course of 2,000 years or so, we have fallen back into old habits. Do you remember when the Holy Spirit spoke to Peter in a dream in Acts and told him not to make unclean what God had made clean? He was alluding to the Jewish law about forbidden meats, but this dream spoke to people rather than meat. It was an acceptance of Gentiles into the faith, but it also speaks to the New Covenant that brings us all grace through forgiveness of sin. It’s not to say that the law isn’t important (we need both), but to understand the law isn’t all there is. There is mercy, grace, and love. There is Jesus. And remember, He was known for shaking things up.

In the church today, much like the church of then, we assign much value to our laws. The Bible still stands as an instruction manual for Holy living, but as task-oriented humans, we can place too much of our focus on building the faith via the rules, and less focus on building the faith through the love of Christ. We bring people to salvation through fear of damnation, and less through the light of His love, which in turn will bring truth. In other words, we focus on “this is right, that is wrong, and that’s the bottom line.”

Here’s the problem Conservative Christianity sees with BLM. They see a website, a political organization, or a moral code. They see paragraphs that support non-Biblical values on a political website founded by another human with differing values. What they don’t see is the hurting hearts of their brothers and sisters of color. They don’t see the Samaritan woman at the well who needs living water, this hurting woman who wants to worship, but is held back by Jewish practices. Instead they see an adulterous, divorcee, who is living a life of sin openly and doesn’t even care! How dare she!

The thing is, the Samaritan woman isn’t even a prime example for this moment in our personal history. My friends of color have made no poor decisions that have left them marginalized. They were simply born into a station in life where many consider them unworthy of being equal (like the Samaritans). That isn’t right, and it isn’t something Jesus would support. His way was considered radical for the time, and I suppose that today when people choose to love like He showed us it is also too radical for the church.

I could come up with scripture all day showing why loving your neighbor as yourself is the way of Jesus, but religious opposers would come back with just as much scripture pointing to laws and sin that somehow couldn’t support the equal treatment of the black lives of fellow human beings. At the end of the day, for me, it’s not about a political organization, it’s about human life. It’s not about the moral values of a few people who created an organizational statement, but about the hundreds of black friends I speak with personally who are treated unjustly and left heartbroken and fearful. It’s about the people at my table, not the religious practices held above that.

For me, it comes down to those clothe bracelets people wore when I was in school that said W.W.J.D. (What Would Jesus Do). Daily I read the words of Jesus, and when I read those words and pray for guidance from the Holy Spirit, I am led to love my brothers and sisters. I am led to lead in love and allow His truth to shine the brightest through that. God knows my heart; so who exactly is it I fear misunderstanding my Christian values when I support BLM? Is it the lost? No, I don’t think so. They’re lost. It actually probably pushes them from Christianity if I don’t stand for injustice. Is it fellow believers who I worry will think I’ve given up the commandments of my God? But they don’t hold the key to my salvation. Also, don’t forget that everything you read isn’t true. In the end, the question really becomes, do I invite the tax collector to dinner? Do I walk out of my way to end up at the well the exact same time as an adulterous woman? Do I step outside of religious obligation to show love and invite the hurting to the table of my Lord who heals?

I have discovered that a lot of people will disagree with me, and that’s ok. I promise, there’s no need to send anymore angry emails. I’ve gotten the point. But because I have loving hearts who have asked, this is my answer. How do you stand by your Christian values while supporting the hurting (black lives)? You do it just like Jesus did. It’s no secret when you read the Gospels that Jesus held the lives of people above the book of the law. For Him, leading people to His Father was the goal, not ensuring they came to the table dirt-free. He let the Father take care of that. He did not allow the religious practices to keep Him from showing another that they were precious and worthwhile to the Father. He just didn’t.

I won’t claim I’m right and others are wrong. I can only speak for my heart, and I can only share what the Lord has spoke to my heart. I can only tell you to do what I have done. Study the Word, pray, and seek Spirit and truth on this matter. My words (or those from another blogger) shouldn’t determine your position. The opinion of your friends, the news, or your political beliefs shouldn’t drive your behavior towards others. In the end, you stand at the well, and you decide if you can give someone a drink who is thirsty. If all lives matter, then all lives matter. Despite politics, despite sin, despite agenda, despite moral obligation, and despite religion. Stop allowing BLM to be about politics for you. That’s what the media and the world would try and convince you it’s all about. Why can’t it just be about the love the statement (black lives matter) implies? If all lives matter, then why can’t black lives matter too?

Can You Love as Adamantly as You Disagree?

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I guess you’ve noticed my drop in posting lately. I’ve taken a step back from social media and public opinion so I could focus on the Lord and His next steps for our family. Despite whether I’ve been writing the past couple of weeks or not, though, my inbox has kept steady with communication from strangers who have come across my writing. This has always been the case, and for the most part I receive lovely encouragement from others. Sometimes I do not. Lately I’ve gotten more ALL-CAPS angry emails than usual, and it hasn’t surprised me a bit considering the state of our country presently. It’s the main reason I took a social media hiatus, but that doesn’t stop my ‘contact me’ box from remaining open.

This past week I received an email from a stranger who had stumbled across a blog post I wrote back in early June 2020 questioning how Jesus might perceive the phrase Black Lives Matter. I could recall it being a well-received post from the people close to me who knew my heart, but as the article swept across the Nation it received mixed reviews. Or perhaps it’s just the angriest voices that speak the loudest. Regardless, the email I received from a man I did not know in reference to this post started by calling me a “daughter of Satan.”

I could go on with the remainder of the insults therein. I could even post it here with his name, but that would be me retaliating for my offense, and that’s not actually what I’m doing here. I don’t take offense. It only makes me sad. Sad that someone who doesn’t even know me took the time to follow a few links to my webpage, contact form, and pen a rage-filled paragraph for me. I guess you could say I’m getting pretty used to it, though. The night before I was labeled by another stranger a “heretic” and guilty of “leading people astray.” I think I’ve had my salvation questioned more in the past few months than ever in my life. But let’s get to the point, shall we.

Let’s put Facebook posts and blog articles aside. I mean, everyone has opinions, and anyone is free to start their own webpage and proclaim them. But, it’s like my husband has told me numerous times, you’ll never influence people with words you share on the internet as much as you will by the life you lead each day. And this was certainly true. I have come to realize this year that opinions will change as we grow. I mean, when I was looking for the link to the recent article I shared above for BLM, I found another I had written in 2016. It was very different. In fact, I think the gentleman who called me a child of Satan probably would have applauded my previous work, but that is neither here or there. My point is, opinions change, people change. Who you vote for in one election may alter drastically in later years, but it’s not our politics that impact the lives around us for Jesus. It’s how we live each day.

My last day of work at the hospital I’ve been at in Orlando, I sat with the most adorable nursing assistant ever. I love her, and she makes me laugh out loud, literally, with her amazing sense of humor. She’s a great tech, and I enjoyed working with her. As we spoke about my upcoming move I brought up the subject of racial injustice. It was a topic newer to me, but one the Lord had really stoked in my spirit this year. Once I opened up the dialogue, and knowing my heart like she did, she began to release her emotions freely. She cried while she expressed her fears to me for her nineteen year old son. She shared personal stories of his interaction with law enforcement, and she recounted a situation of when he didn’t come home at curfew, and her and her mom got frantic with the worry he had been pulled over and shot. She talked about how happy she was that he loved to play video/computer games because it kept him mostly in his room, where she could be certain he was safe.

I couldn’t understand her feelings here. I mean, I wanted to. I sympathized with her concerns as a mother, but I couldn’t fully empathize with her plight. I didn’t have to. I was the mother of four, white daughters. So what I did instead was listen as she spilled her emotions. Then I told her, “I can’t even begin to imagine how this feels, but I can tell you this. This isn’t right. You should not have to feel this way! I love you, and I stand by you in this fight.”

The thing is, I had been working alongside this woman for two years. She knew I was a Christian. She heard me listen to worship music while I charted, but she also knew I loved Jesus by my actions. She saw it in the way I treated my patients for years, but now, on my last day, I made it apparent to her that I loved her like Jesus would have me to. I saw her, and I held her concerns of value. I loved her just by listening. I loved her by offering my support.

I think that too often in this life we complicate things that are really quite simple. Like the Pharisees in the day of Jesus we focus on things that perhaps we should not. When Jesus and His disciples walked through a field the Pharisees attacked them for picking grain and eating it on the Sabbath. They were hungry, and they took of the bounty God had given. But the religious sect focused on the law (no work, or harvesting grain on Sunday) rather than feeding the need of others. I think that today, instead of choosing to walk with Jesus in that field of wheat, we’re sitting on the sidelines checking the boxes that keep us in the category of Christian according to religion. If we can say we support the right causes, vote the right color, and call out the really big sins, then we’re good. If we can attend services on Sunday we can check the box, but we don’t have to do much beyond that. We can neglect those who need us most. We can keep our Christian friends happy, but forget that it’s the sick who need a physician the most. Those are the words of Jesus, not mine. It was His response when the church leaders of the day ridiculed Him for hanging out with the wrong crowd.

I will be transparent here and tell you that when I got that email I was hurt. What’s the best way to try and cut a lover of Jesus? By questioning their salvation, or their dedication to Him. It seems that this is how fellow believers have disagreed with me lately, by calling into question my Christianity. But do you know who has never questioned it? The lost. I have crossed paths with many people who don’t live a life dedicated to the Lord, but they never question that I do. They learn of my Christianity by the cross I wear around my neck, by the music I listen to, by the scripture I post on social media, or by the words I say. They learn of my dedication to Jesus by the way I live my life each day, by the way I treat others, respond to adversity, and most importantly, by how I love.

I read the Bible a lot. Despite some comments from others telling me I need to read my Bible, I actually do. Like, I read it for hours a day, daily. I love the Word, I crave it, and I find it gives me peace when this world seems crazy. In my study of scripture I’ve never found the parts that state a specific political affiliation is required. I’ve never seen the part where Jesus pinpointed the top three sins of all time. I’ve never found the part that tells us to ridicule those with different opinions, or those who sin differently than ourselves. I do recall something about us all falling short, and I definitely remember a time or two where He instructed us to love others like ourselves. Even to lay down our lives for a brother.

Lay down your life for a friend (John 15:13). I used to think that meant dying physically so someone else could live, much like a civilian hero or soldier on the battlefield. And perhaps it does. But I also think it means metaphorically laying down your life, like, being able to lay down what the world thinks, the reputation of man, the opinion of those besides the Father. It means hanging out with tax collectors even when the Pharisees snub their noses. It means offering healing to those that some might leave bleeding on the side of the road (shout out to the Samaritans). It means standing up for what is right, even if it’s not popular opinion. It means demanding change even as people question something that only God can know. Like your heart motives. To lay down your life means to sacrifice for others, just like Jesus modeled to us. It means to love people you’ve never met, take the punishment for something you didn’t personally do, or humble yourself, even to death, albeit death of your presumptions.

I read an excerpt from Jared Byas, Love Matters More, that said, “Somehow we’ve duped ourselves into thinking that what we believe is more important than how we believe. Perhaps it’s time to remember that love matters more than just believing in God in our heads and that love is a verb.”

I wonder what would happen if we loved as well as we disagree? What if we decided to love others as much as we love our own opinion? What if we laid down offense, laid down our lives, and simply loved instead? Could we admit we have been wrong, admit others have been wrong, or try to be better today than we were yesterday? Maybe we could even throw off the labels we wear. We could decide that it’s not Democrat or Republican, so much as listen and learn. It’s not just liberal or conservative, but kindness and kingdom-thinking. Then we could remember that leading others to Jesus is more important than standing on the right side of a political battle or internet argument. Then we could remember that it’s our fruit of the spirit that will make us known as followers of Him, and certainly not the angry words we throw to a stranger.

I Don’t Need to Always Be Right, But I Do Need This…

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I was driving home from work after a long day at the hospital bedside. As the end of Summer said farewell, the sunsets this time of year added their own salutation with flattering colors of scarlet, mango, and periwinkle to wave their wispy fingers in a too-da-loo gesture. As I drove down a secluded, winding road to avoid toll fees in my commute, I marveled at God’s handiwork brushed across the canvas of the sky. Up ahead a lake swept across the rolling landscape, and the mirror of its waters reflected the pallet of Heaven’s glorious light show.

In awe I whispered, “thank you, Lord,” while mentally the phrase “I love you so much” mixed with my comment of thanksgiving. Like a familiar melody the love song of my soul harmonized with the gratitude of my spirit, and together encapsulated the epitome of my existence. To love Him.

At that exact moment, weighted by the emotion of true love, kept joyful by the restoration of relationship, certain of my purpose forever, I thought, “at least I’ve got that part figured out.”

Loving Him.

This year has been one of much heartache. It’s been a jumbled mess of months of uncertainty. The spectrum of my human emotion has experienced the highest highs, but more than that, the lowest lows. The strain of so much out of my control, and the stress of human relationships. I’ve spent a lot of time in disagreement with others this year. And even knowing that the enemy was the one stoking the fire of discord, I found it difficult to extinguish my own flame of anger. Raw emotion had been abraded more than I could stand, and I had found myself wanting to crawl into a hidey-hole, a safe place with just Jesus and me. This year has been hard. Did I say that already?

My point is, I have spent a lot of time this year questioning myself. I would feel the Holy Spirit speak, but then I would feel doubt. I would circle back, again and again. I have spent more time quietly listening to the Lord this year than I ever have before. I’ve spent more time in the Word, craving scripture like the air I breathe. I’ve seen the Lord reveal so many new things to me this year, and I’ve seen my thoughts and words trampled on when others didn’t agree. A lot of my writings are published beyond my personal website, and I had to stop reading the comments of strangers on other platforms that carried my writing. The opinions of others painted me in a less than flattering light. In other words, I discovered the louder you speak words that step on toes, the more likely yours are to be hammered. Aside from hearing from the Lord more this year than ever, I’ve also experienced doubt unlike ever before. People didn’t like what I said. That must mean I’m wrong. Or something like that.

As I drove past the beauty of a sunset reflected on rippling water, I thought of David. That man had made some less than stellar decisions in his lifetime. In fact, he had messed up majorly a time or two. But for me, his mistakes were not what I remembered him for. His missteps didn’t define his character. I had always thought of David as God described him, “a man after my own heart.”

I can’t say if I have the gift of prophecy, but I do know I love the Lord my God more than anything in this world. I’m not sure if wisdom is my forte, but I do desire to love and serve the Lord more than I desire my own life. I may lay down arguments hesitantly, but I will always and easily lay down my life for Jesus. I am sometimes guilty of succumbing to public opinion, but I will never be guilty of not surrendering to God. I don’t know if I’m right about this or that, but I do know I serve a righteous God, a God who is just. I know I love Him, and I love others because of Him. I don’t know if I hear His voice correctly, but I do know I always want to listen. His voice is the one I desire most. I can give up carbs in my diet, but His bread I will always require. I can never seem to quench my thirst for H2O, but His living water satisfies my soul. I don’t need to always be right, or liked, or agreed with, but I do need the love of Him. Thankfully, I have just that. I may not know what the outcome of life will be in the next few months, but I know how to love Him. And that gives me peace.

A Call to Christian Soldiers

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Every morning as I drive to work in the dark I pray. After praying for my day, my children, and my spouse, I usually allow the Holy Spirit to lead the rest of my prayers. Sometimes I pray for a specific friend or family member, and sometimes I pray for the world in general. This morning, though, I prayed for the unseen.

For some time now I have felt unrest under the surface. Starting back in March I could feel it, this unknown yet enormous conflict. The Lord began to speak to me about the battle that rages here on earth, and though we’ve seen a lot of arguments lately, that’s not the fighting I refer to. No. The battle I mention is waged in another world, a realm beyond what human eyes can normally see, although you might feel it on a spiritual level. And it will certainly affect you on a physical one.

Ephesians 6:12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Demons and demonic influence are not just the stuff of Hollywood and horror movies, and while it makes for good entertainment, I suppose, it’s the furthest thing from fiction. The powers of good and evil are in an epic battle, and although we cannot see it, you have to admit you’ve felt the repercussions this year.

Have you felt down, depressed, and anxious? While you might want to blame it all on the physical circumstances of this year, I can assure you there’s more to it. Have you found yourself easily angered, to the point of rage, over the actions of others? It’s not just a difference in opinion. You’re experiencing spiritual warfare. For although the battle between angelic and demonic forces is occurring beyond what our human eye can perceive, that doesn’t mean we don’t suffer the after effects. Like a shock wave, the invisible, spiritual theme is being set for what is going on in a kingdom sense. While the armies position themselves for war, we find ourselves, human beings encouraged to position ourselves for battle.

The forces of evil are not just fighting angelic armies. They are also fighting mankind. But like their commander, the great deceiver, the father of lies, the prince of this world, they too are a sneaky bunch. They don’t appear in visible form to frighten you. That would be too obvious of their intent. No. They whisper to you. They tell little lies, over and over, until you believe they are true.

Never, in my lifetime, have I seen such blatant deception taking over so many. I’m sure you’ve seen it too. Things that normally would be recognized immediately as false are suddenly being given credit this season. Obvious evil is being called good, and atrocious acts are being called justified. I used to scoff at how mankind could possibly fall for the antics of the Antichrist, but this year I’ve seen it’s possible. The veil is thicker than it’s ever been, and the only explanation is a spiritual deception, an oppression so strong that it’s blinding.

Words that normally would be thought about before spoken out loud, have really been flying this year. Harsh, cruel, hateful insults thrown without care for the harm they can do. The apparent gentlest of people have erupted with almost monstrous glee. My jaw has dropped more times than I can count from the heinous comments I’ve seen fly over social media. Love has been suppressed in favor of rage. Understanding has been vanquished. Empathy eroded. Anger stoked. Conspiracy bred in abundance. Jesus weeps, and the devil cackles with laughter.

I have spent a lot of time this year in scripture, in prayer, and in quiet, listening to the Holy Spirit. I believe that God is doing something very big. I think Kingdom impact is happening, the harvest is near, and because of that Satan is also in overtime to try and turn it around before the final act. A war for mankind goes on behind the scenes, this year more than any other, I think, and that is why we are seeing such waves in the physical realm. It’s not just by chance this year has been so horrible, that tempers have been so short, that violence has been so widespread, that deception has been so thick, but also that eyes have been opened like never before, or that justice has begun to get a grip in this world. Change is on the horizon. Now is the time for the church to take action.

The Lord is calling all believers to pray without ceasing. Christian soldiers are being called to the frontlines of a battle you cannot yet see. I don’t care whether you are crying out for the unborn or marching in protest of racial injustice, God is calling us all to fight the good fight. Whether you’re #blm, backing the blue, or screaming all lives matter, you are called to intercede for the Kingdom. It seems that on many issues the church is divided within the physical realm, but the time has come for us to unite in the spiritual realm.

The fact is, as believers, we may be temporary citizens in this world, but we are not of it. By the blood of Jesus we’ve risen above this temporal world, and until we are completely relocated to the new earth, we would do good to remember our heritage. We don’t serve the prince of this world. We serve the King of all Kings. Our King is calling us to bear arms, but He is calling us to fight the real enemy rather than one another. He is calling us to hit our knees, to take the stance of faithful intercession, and to pray for our world. Not just our country, and not just one group of people. I don’t care whether you’re Republican or left-leaning, the Lord is calling all believers to a time of prayer. He wants us to stand, but before we stand for a particular platform or agenda, He wants us to stand for His Kingdom, which is so much greater than the physical problems we see manifesting in this world.

So, please don’t misunderstand. Continue to fight for justice for all, but love your enemy. Continue to stand up for freedom and religious rights, but not by standing on the back of anyone who disagrees with you. Speak out for truth, but not by believing the enemy’s lies to do it. Seek Him first, and He will lead you towards the rest. Now, more than ever, we must fight the real enemy, and we must unite in this common goal. We must commit to prayer for the battles we cannot see that are creating the battles we do. This is the calling of all Christian soldiers. Please join me, as we link spiritual arms, and support the real cause for Christ.

Bullying in Christianity

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I found myself writing names on a piece of paper, with the full intention of later ripping it apart. It reminded me of something you’d be taught at a youth Summer camp, which wasn’t all together surprising considering the whole incident made me think of high school. The big difference, though, being that I was a forty-three year old woman, not a sixteen year old girl. Despite the age gap, the similarities were uncanny, and as I reflected on my teenage years, I realized I was again the victim of bullying.

As a girl I had experienced bullying by one of my peers, over a boy on the surface, but underneath due to much more pressing issues. Jealousy, self-esteem problems, and much more pain had led to the bully in school tormenting me. I wondered if pain was the cause of my current day bullying, and I tried to keep that in mind as my own heart was hurting. I remembered how hard it had been back in tenth grade. At the time I felt like the whole school was against me. No one talked to me, no one stood up for me. Just silent faces watching me walk down the hall alone. Oddly enough, that’s how I had felt last week.

As I found myself being attacked by sisters in Christ, I felt like that young woman again, head down, heart broken over supposed friends turning their back on me. I had been the victim of something I didn’t even know existed, until I found myself on the outside of the fray. Before, I had been a main member of the Christian Woman Club, but as my heart sought truth deeper than that of the world, my opinions began to conflict with that of my fellow Conservative friends. Before they had applauded my speeches, but that was when my words mirrored their own. It turns out that if you went off script, Christian women could be like a mafia family.

The key to being part of the Christian clique was to say the right things. You could speak as loudly as you wanted, as long as you spoke to popular opinion. It reminded me of the movie Mean Girls. You had to wear the right color, but it turns out it’s red, not pink, and definitely not blue. Blue was totally out.

As my mind had started to support the causes I felt the Lord leading me to champion, and as my heart of love questioned things that stood in contrast to compassion and kindness, I was met with opposition. Not by my enemies, but by my friends. Yet instead of talking it out, I found myself being shouted at. I was attacked by people I considered friends, and my Christianity questioned by people I had known over twenty years. You were allowed to proclaim yourself as a Christian if your opinions were exactly the same as the majority, but if you spoke anything different, forget about it. You got ousted from the club. So, if I disagreed with the politics, I obviously couldn’t believe in Jesus, and if I spoke love, it was called heresy. You could think, you just couldn’t think differently. You had to be in agreement on what sins specifically were the big, bad ones, and hush up about the seemingly insignificant ones. In other words, you were encouraged to read the Bible, but not so intently that you actually attempted to be like Jesus. That was way too much, and it went in opposition to things like standing up for Christian rights. Because it was good to stand up for the Lord; you just had to ignore the fact that you might have to stand on the backs of the other children of God to do it. Y’all, I don’t think God is proud about this at all. Actually, I think it makes Him sad.

Let’s just say for a moment, for sake of argument, that my ideas were bogus, that I was way off base. Call it backsliding, or whatever you wish. How do you think you should try and talk some sense into me? By attacking me, or by calling into question my salvation? Goodness. Who decided this was the way to go about it?!

After the last year, but especially the past week, I’ve sadly discovered that there’s a large amount of bullying in the Christian community. If you dare to think for yourself, allowing the Holy Spirit to speak to your heart, rather than Fox News, be prepared to be called the worst of all dirty words… a liberal. I have seen friends feel led to stand up for injustice, but be silenced by the bullies around them. I have seen friends try to walk in love, but be told they’re wrong for thinking that way. There’s a rhetoric that has to be repeated, and taken in as gospel. Funny thing? When you open your eyes and take a real look, it’s the furthest thing from the gospel there is. The bullies of Christianity are displaying behavior that is the furthest from Jesus there is. How is this furthering the Kingdom?

At the start of this post I mentioned writing down names on a piece of paper. You see, I found myself yesterday feeling down. My heart was broken, and I found myself thinking again and again about the hurt I felt, about the insults hurled against me. I realized that I couldn’t continue in offense, that I had to let the hurt go much like I had purged high school from my memory. I had to remember that I was in this world, but not of it. I had to remember that I wasn’t the names the world gave me, but that I was who my Father knew me to be. My salvation wasn’t based on who I voted for, but rather who I served. I served Jesus, not man. So I tore up the little piece of paper, and I took comfort in knowing that opinions are just as flimsy as that post-it note I threw into the trash.

The Gowen Experience Update

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I’m aware that for some of you this will sound very strange, and that’s ok. But I’ve always been transparent, so I know no other way to share this account than how it happened. Since it’s making such a large impact on our lives, I wanted to share. Perhaps it will impact you too.

Around the first week of August I traveled to the Fort Meyers area to visit with my aunt for my birthday. We got a hotel along the beach, but the best part of the trip was definitely the company. I wasn’t that impressed with the beach there. It was probably my least favorite of all I’ve visited, and the hotel was nothing like I imagined. I could hardly take the girls to the pool due to the large crowd of adults (doing adult things, lol) there. I promise there’s a point to my descriptions of the area. Just know, it wasn’t going down as my best mini vacay ever.

Anyway, the last night there I felt a very real uneasiness, off kilter, like something was missing. I grabbed my Bible, because that’s what I do when I feel that way, but before I could get into scripture I felt the Lord tell me to go outside where it was quiet, so I could hear Him better. The girls were awake and running around in the hotel room, so the request made perfect sense. I went to the quiet balcony and took a seat.

“I’m here,” I prayed. “What now?”

I felt the Lord say, “I need you to move here.”

“I can certainly think of better beach towns to relocate to,” I joked.

He repeated, “I need you to move here.”

“When?” I asked.

“Soon.”

I continued in prayer with the Lord, and I felt that September would be the when. I felt on one hand that the Lord wanted to move my family for our protection. For some time I have had the impression that this fall will not be a good time in our country. COVID, elections, civil unrest. I’m not afraid, but I do feel like a portion of this move will be a safety thing for us. Above that, I feel it is God positioning us for His kingdom purposes. I’ve posted on social media before a vision of red push pins on a map, strings joining the pins across the globe. I believe something monumental is going on in this world, but also in the spiritual realm. The Lord is positioning His saints for His purposes. As I prayed, I heard the words “racial reconciliation,” and I pictured a black man I had seen on the street the day prior, how his eyes had glanced towards me untrustingly, and how at that time my heart had wanted to cry, “I love you, brother.” This is the first time I’ve put down that part of all this.

I have stepped out with this word, and I believe the time has come that the Lord will start opening doors and paving the way for this move. I now feel the release to share this with coworkers, friends, and family, beyond the small circle I’ve already told. God is doing something, y’all. In this world, but also in the hearts of each person. If we are open to His Spirit, He will do amazing things. Our life the past few years has been about following the Lord’s plan for us. We consider each day of our lives a ministry. My husband is so supportive and together we are in agreement for God’s plans to direct our steps. The past eight months of stability, with a permanent job (with all its perks) has been nice, but that’s just not what God has for us right now. I’m not sure if it ever will be.

This morning, when I felt the release to speak this openly, I also felt that God is about to move big time in our lives, but God works in our hearts to the degree we are willing to allow Him access. With that in mind, I realize there is a lot of distraction in this world. I shared recently the attacks we have been under since the Lord spoke this next step, and I understand now is a time where I must focus on His truth. Each day is a ministry opportunity, but we have to be listening. With that in mind, I will be disabling Facebook and Twitter. The noise is too great. This was a difficult decision for me because I love sharing what God is doing with y’all, and I know social media is a big part of that. I have weighed the pros and cons. Maybe I’ll be back one day, but for now I cut off distraction so I will have ears to hear God in this season.

I will continue to update the blog on our lives and what God is doing, but I will not be able to share it to Facebook. As always, you can find me at briegowen.com. You can join the (email) mailing list at the bottom of each post. You can even share to social media yourself with the share buttons provided at the bottom of a post, but if you just look on Facebook, you won’t find me. If you need to contact me, my Facebook messenger will still be active even though my Facebook newsfeed and page is disabled. I will keep FB and Twitter open for the next 24 hours, just so friends can see this post, but then I’ll be absent from the noise. I think social media is awesome, and I’m going to miss a lot of it. But there’s a lot I won’t miss. I don’t think we’re meant to see some of the inner ugliness that’s been apparent lately. It’s heartbreaking, and my spirit can hardly take it. Beyond that, it brews things in me that I know aren’t always of God. Three years ago we opted for a simple life. The exit of social media will make it even more so. I am saddened for the great many, Facebook friends I’ve discovered, especially over the last year. Please, y’all, keep in touch via Messenger. I don’t want to lose the sweet spirits God has placed in my life.

With joyous anticipation I look forward to the things God has planned, and I look forward with continuing to share that with you all, via my website. Thank you for following along on my journey.

P.S. If you still want to see photos of my adorable children and our adventures, I’ll still post pictures to my Instagram account, which is the same name as my website. ☺️

A Plea to the Christian Community During Government Restrictions

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When I first considered writing this post last night, I think it would have come out very differently than it is today. Fueled by anger for others not seeing the same as me, my thoughts were sarcastic and perhaps not as kind as I prefer them to be. I am human, and as I’m quick to share, I’m a continual work in progress. I think, though, sometimes we all forget that. We forget our friends, and even our enemies, are works in progress. People who don’t see things the same as we do, are works in progress. In fact, if you’re a Christian, you are definitely a work in progress, journeying each and every day towards a life that looks more like Jesus. I share all this to say that the words I’m now putting down are transformed by love, considered prayerfully, and in an aim for all of the collective works-in-progress to grow more like Him. In other words, please don’t take it as a personal offense if you posted this graphic.

Last night I saw this graphic shared on Facebook. I don’t know the origin, and I don’t even know if the data or math is correct. I do know what its likely purpose was, and I do know the reaction it hoped to evoke. One, easy look at the capitalized NOT will let you know the idea of this graphic is to promote a frustration over government regulations and restrictions amidst COVID-19. This specific table for my home state of MS promotes the idea that COVID is NOT that dangerous, not likely to infect most people, and it easily flames the fuel of frustration over shutdowns, public school quarantines, and a worsening economy. It supports ideas that masks aren’t needed, sports should continue unhampered, and of course, that the government is trying to control our personal lives, not help us.

A common reaction to a graphic like this might be, “so why in the world are we stopping life for these kinda percentages?!”

Look, I get it. I do. It’s hard to see outside our own little world. Typically we allow a situation to affect us emotionally or on a deeper level only if it affects us personally. For example, if we don’t know anyone with a disease, it might be harder to believe it exists. If we haven’t known someone otherwise healthy who has died from a virus, we might not consider it deadly. If we focus more on how this all is affecting us personally, we might consider our child missing out on Senior year activities of greater value than the death of a stranger’s spouse. This is a sad aspect of human nature, but it does happen. We all fall to it. It’s easy to throw out our leftovers, never considering that some children will go to bed the very same night with empty bellies. Just because we’re overweight doesn’t mean that hunger isn’t a problem for some in this country.

I better get to the point quickly. You guys are gonna fade away. So, do you know what I first noticed when I saw this graphic? The number 2,128. The question is, how will you look at that number? Some people will say that 2,128 people in almost three million isn’t that big of a deal. I think if that’s how you’re responding, you might want to check your heart. How many deaths will it take to mean something? What is the right percentage to make your personal inconvenience worth dealing with?

Imagine if 2,128 bodies were stacked in your back yard. Would it seem like a lot then? What if number 2,127 was your child? Would it have been worth wearing a mask or social distancing then?

As a Christian people we typically support a Pro-Life stance. I know I do! I guess I’m just wondering why Pro-Life only matters to a large majority of Christians when it’s in the womb? Why aren’t we for the life of our neighbors? Or for the life of minorities? Or for the life of immigrants? It almost makes it seem like Pro-Life is more of a political agenda than a way of life like Jesus calls it to be. I mean, Jesus was extremely Pro-Life, but He didn’t draw lines in the sand.

Jesus didn’t say, ‘ love your neighbor, but only if he agrees with you, is the same political party as you, and goes to your church.’ He just said to love them.

I figure a large part of loving our neighbor is caring about what is important to them, not just what’s important to us. It’s about sacrificing personal convenience to show the love of Christ. It’s about serving others and sympathizing with their pain. It’s about seeing that graphic I shared and not ignoring the number 2,128. That’s over two thousand families who lost a loved one. In the Bible Jesus spoke about leaving the flock of 99 to just save the one, but we forget that unless the one happens to be us. Otherwise it’s irrelevant to us.

My plea to the Christian community would be to practice compassion, sympathy, and humility. I would ask you to join me in the stretching process of caring about others more than ourselves, to serve one another in love. Let’s not just look at how a situation negatively affects us, but place ourselves in the shoes of others and attempt to understand their pain. We should be allowing the pain of others to break our hearts like it does God, and consider every situation through a kingdom context. There’s so much more to life than the materialistic and inconvenient nuisances we experience. I’m not saying that real and serious impacts from this pandemic haven’t been experienced, but I would encourage us all to ask ourselves if we’re putting our own life well above that of another. If we want to exercise the opinion that all lives matter, then let’s do just that. Let’s believe that all lives, all 2,128 lives lost prematurely, matter. Let’s do better, guys.

PTSD in Nursing

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Last night my family and I drove to pickup dinner. I had asked my husband if he still felt uncomfortable taking our young daughters into a public restaurant, and he had been quick to say, “yeah, I don’t want to do that.”

The numbers had gone down, but that did little to change the routine we had carried since April. I’m very honest with my spouse about my work, and as such, he suffered from the same problem I did. We knew too much. There was no way in hell we could be blissfully ignorant, and I don’t mean that offensively. I truly wish I could forget this year.

As we pulled up to the restaurant to get our curbside pickup I noticed the large group of people sitting outdoors. The tables weren’t spaced like they had been just a month prior, and people milled about inches from other groups, laughing, smiling, not a mask in sight.

“That doesn’t look like continued social distancing to me,” I said to my spouse, pointing towards the outdoor dining.

The thing was, I didn’t want to be the social distancing police! I didn’t want to see pictures of church gatherings on Facebook and wonder why no one wore a mask. I didn’t want to cringe at friends starting to gather again, throw parties, and enjoy life. I didn’t want to be wary of strangers. I didn’t want to worry about my daughters drifting over to play with some new kids at the pool. I wanted everything the way it used to be, but I couldn’t for the life of me forget the past four months. I just couldn’t.

For nurses and other healthcare professionals who have been in hotspot areas of the COVID-19 pandemic, I think we’ve received injuries that are invisible. We’re nursing wounds no one can see, and the scars we carry are still raised and angry. So while a large part of society has basically forgotten a pandemic was here, nurses are still trying to catch their breath.

I think of a skittish cat, jumping with shackles raised at every tiny sound. I think of someone who has been abused, how they’re always suspicious for when the next hand will be raised to harm them. It wasn’t fear that griped me, but rather an awareness of what the virus could do. For so many people COVID-19 was like a really bad cold, or maybe the flu, but for the hundreds of patients I had seen in an inpatient, critical care setting, it was a death sentence. All that people with no hands-on experience could say about the virus was that its mortality rate wasn’t that high, but you know who I never heard say that? Those of us at the bedside the past four months, sweating profusely in our respirators, while we pumped aggressively on someone’s chest to help their heart restart. The reason you didn’t hear that from us? Because 90% (or more) of those patients did not live. Last I knew, our hospital had tried to save over 200 people, without success. We did everything humanly possible. The virus is that bad. For the families of those two hundred and something lost, statistics for survival rate meant very little. For those of us who had cared for them, it meant even less.

So, here we are with case numbers declining, but I still don’t feel comfortable allowing my children to go to a restaurant or play with other kids in the neighborhood. To me, it’s life and death, and until someone can tell me what makes one person just get a scratchy throat, and the next guy (with similar age and health) be unable to survive, I must remain the way I am. I cannot help it. My poor husband, who has seen my defeat amidst so much death, he cannot help it either. We’re still over here self-isolating, wearing masks in public, and social distancing when we do get out.

Today my husband said, “I hope they’re wrong. I mean, it doesn’t have to get bad again, right?!”

You see, the healthcare field, based on their knowledge and models, has their own predictions for the next few months. Those of us knee-deep in the muck of this novel virus are like the skittish cat I mentioned. We’re waiting for flu season 2020. It will be like the two tropical storms converging, but when COVID couples with flu, it will be a level 5 we fear. I don’t want to listen to projections, but I try to be realistic.

Y’all, I don’t know if it will ever be the same. I don’t know if I will ever be the same. I’m so aware of germ transmission at this point, I’m surprised the skin on my hands isn’t falling off from hand sanitizer and washing them. Today I let my daughters play with two little girls at the public pool. Then I spent the next twenty minutes praying silently for God’s hedge of protection around them, worried I had made the wrong decision. I don’t want to be that mom, but I’m that nurse. I just can’t seem to be any other way.

I’m not alone, y’all. I cannot unsee the frightened look in a patient’s eyes before we stuck a breathing tube down his throat. I cannot forget the fact that although I wanted him to live, he didn’t. I can’t erase the images of the handful of critical care patients who did leave my floor alive, but did so forty pounds lighter, unable to do the things they had done prior to being a COVID survivor, some with holes in their neck to keep breathing. I think back to when I was active duty military after 9/11. At some point, as we continued to receive soldiers from The War on Terror, I grew so very tired of seeing young men (boys, really) with only one limb remaining, or their face mangled. I just wanted the war to end. I think your civilian healthcare workers of 2020 are feeling much the same. We’re tired, we’re anxious, and we’re depressed. We’re overly protective of our families, but we’re also happy to be alive. We’re in need of a break, and even though the case numbers are on the downtrend for now, we don’t really believe the end is even close. We can’t catch a break, and our patients can’t catch their breath. It’s an ugly scene for bedside nursing, and so many of us will never be the same.

When you say your prayers tonight, try and remember your frontline workers. We feel like we’ve been forgotten. And although we’d keep doing what we do even without accolades or good vibes, I personally covet your prayers for my team. This year has been traumatic, and I don’t think it’s something we can ever forget.

Is There a Thorn in Your Flesh?

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I’m going to be very transparent here. Naturally, that’s the only way I know to be. See, the past couple of months have been, not that great. In fact, at moments over the past month, they’ve been just plain awful. So many people look upon the things I write and perhaps assume my life is a Mary Poppins, practically perfect journey, but they would be mistaken. Even joy-filled women, victorious in Christ, suffer. I have been in a time of suffering, in the valley of the shadow of death, in a season of mourning. The worst part? I couldn’t pinpoint the reason for my grief.

Over the past couple of months I’ve found my mood declining, and the reason not easily discovered. I blamed some of it on the dreaded hormones. Since turning forty my body had begun a cruel roller coaster ride of emotional surges, and despite a couple of different medicines prescribed by my doctor to try and level things out, it had continued its ups and downs. Forgive the TMI, but I had actually been on my menstral cycle for five weeks straight recently. It was at that point I felt like I hit a rock bottom of my emotional well.

I know the mental and emotional discomfort I have been under has been the same for many people. Isolation, financial loss, and sickness have spanned the globe. As a nurse I’ve experienced the harsh work of dealing with a pandemic and the pain of being helpless to save the many lives we’ve lost. As a mother I’ve experienced the challenges of keeping children at home for extended periods, and as a working mom I’ve tried to maneuver through my daughters’ worry over me working in such close proximity to a sometimes deadly virus. I guess I say all that to get across that a downtrodden mood isn’t exactly unexpected, but that somehow doesn’t make it feel any better.

As a Christian I know I’m not immune to anxiety and depression, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that it’s hit me so hard lately. You see, I know that this world is not my home. I understand that Jesus is in me, and I am in Him, and we are seated with the Father in Heavenly places. Just recently as I prayed for His help I saw a vision of Jesus and me walking together in a field of grain. There was such peace in that moment. And I suppose knowing that this world is temporal and finite still couldn’t seem to remove me from the grip of hopelessness that tried to take me. That bothered me.

I was praying about it one day and Paul came to my mind.

1 Corinthians 12:7-10 Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. 8 Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

I didn’t know if depression was Paul’s thorn, but it certainly seemed to be mine. I know that many mornings recently I would wake up feeling so sad. My life is amazing, my family is wonderful, and on an off day of relaxing I certainly had no reason for a feeling of hopelessness. All I knew was that in those feelings I had to be extremely intentional to remove myself from them. Or rather, I knew I couldn’t extract myself, but I knew who could. And in those feelings of melancholy I would seek the Lord in earnest. In fact, I have never sought Him so hard as I have since April. I have never experienced the Holy Spirit so strongly as I have this year. So while 2020 has been terrible, it’s also been a blessing. In the mess I’ve discovered Jesus more deeply. In feelings of helplessness I’ve found my hope can only be in Him. I mean, this world sure ain’t helping.

The Lord has been speaking so much to us personally, and we are on the edge of a major stepping out. As we prepare to move forward in what God has for us, we have felt the resistance from the enemy. My husband, a man who has never been prone to depression, has also recently experienced the downtrodden mood that has no physical cause. We’ve been partaking in communion in our home, and that helped tremendously. The girls have been experiencing headaches, tummy aches, and trouble falling asleep the past few weeks, and this too isn’t normal. We recognize the attacks we are under, and again it has us clinging all the more closely to Jesus. But please, if you think of it, cover us with prayer frequently.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know who holds it. I do know who holds me, who holds my family. I do know that when feelings of hopelessness come, they are a lie, and I know where my hope is found. I suppose the past few months have been an exercise in this battle for truth, and thankfully I do not fight this battle alone. For now, my thorn remains, but like Paul, I can delight in a weakness that causes me to more desperately draw from His strength.