God told you what? That’s just weird.

It always weirds me out a little when people tell me that God spoke to them. Especially when they’re very specific. “God told me to bring cookie dough ice cream to 125 Main Street. I did it and it turns out they were praying – at that moment – for someone to bring them cookie dough ice cream!”

Whoa, I think. Really? If I’m honest, a little warning light goes off in my head. This one’s a wee bit strange, I think. Keep a safe distance.

See, God isn’t usually that specific with me. I get feelings, ideas, thoughts… but I always have to sift through them – is this God, my own brain or the pizza I ate last night?

But just recently he’s been very specific with Brian and me.

And it’s tough not to think, Is that really you God?

At the same time, I’ve been reading about Gideon. He was my kind of hero. He was just a puny little guy when God first shows up to talk to him. God calls him a mighty warrior who will save Israel, to which Gideon replies, “Pardon me, my Lord, but….”

Translation to Elsa language: Sorry? Did you just call me a Flighty Courier? Because I know you didn’t say Mighty Warrior.

God goes on to reassure him, “Am I not sending you?”

“Pardon me, my Lord…” he says again. Translation: I don’t think I heard you right. I weigh 100 pounds soaking wet. They are big people with big muscles, big weapons and big attitudes. I can’t be your guy.

God convinces him. Later on in the story Gideon has a whole slew of men ready to go to battle. But God wants to shift the odds. After thinning out the crowd by sending home guys who were afraid (22,000 of them took off—oh crud), he has Gideon bring the last of the men to the water – “Separate those who lap the water with their tongues as a dog laps…”

Gideon does it. He keeps the guys who lap and sends off the ones who get down on their knees to drink halfway civilized.

He’s left with 300 men.

Later that night, he had to be looking around at these guys.  I bet that’s when the fears crept in. Did I really hear God? Did he say to keep the ones who lapped or were they the ones I should have sent home? Look at that guy over there. He’s scrawnier than me! And he’s still got water dripping off his beard and that goofy grin on his face. Oh man, what was I thinking?

I had to have misunderstood.

Now, it doesn’t really say that’s what Gideon thought, but it does say that God showed up during the night to confirm what he’d told him earlier. So I figure Gideon had one of those middle-of-the-night freak out moments, and God understood and met him in his fear.

Then God comes through. He pulls it off. Gideon takes down the Midianites and God gets all the glory—because there’s no way it could have happened by Gideon’s strength and his goofy lapping little army.

So maybe God is telling you something. And it feels a little crazy to trust it, to have faith that he’s really going to do what he says he going to do. And you’re looking at the situation and thinking, “Pardon me, Lord… but really?”

And maybe you’ve asked him all kinds of questions, and he’s confirmed it again. And he’s talked to you through others, and confirmed it again. And he’s been gracious with your doubts… and confirmed it again.

Well, then, I think it’s time to own it and trust it and walk in it, my friend.

Because he’s still speaking.

If we’re willing to listen.

Stupid evil scale

I lay in bed this morning eyeing the bathroom door. I haven’t weighed myself in two weeks and today is the day.

I think through all my fabulous weight diminishing decisions. No mayo. No sweets. Lots of rabbit food. Work outs that make my muscles ache.

But what if it doesn’t show anything? I think.

But what if it does? I argue.

But what if it doesn’t?

Oh hush.

I climb out of bed and walk into the bathroom. I look at my nemesis – shiny dastardly thing that’s given me more heartache then my teenage romances: first, second and third loves combined.

I prepare myself: go potty, drop the warm jammies, suck in my tummy and climb aboard.

I look.

I look again.

I’ve gained two pounds.

I climb off in a huff. Pull on my clothes in a huff. Glare at the dog, snap at my man, grumble at the ceiling—all in a huff.

Stupid scale.

Brian asks me what’s wrong. I tell him.

He loves me in just the right way.

“I think that scale is wrong, honey,” he says.

“It’s probably broken,” he adds.

“And remember love? You worked out hard yesterday. You probably bruised your legs and there’s a build up of water.”

“Your hair is longer. That stuff weighs more than you think.”

I love that man.

But I hate that scale.

Because this is usually the point when I give up.

See? It doesn’t even work! See? I’m doomed to be jiggly. Why fight it? Embrace those cute little fat cells, baby.

Then I think about this triathlon I committed to doing. And I look at how I ran my first 5K yesterday. My first 5K ever, and I ran the whole thing. And I look at the weight that I have lost—12 pounds total. So yes, I gained 2 in the last few weeks, but I’ve lost some too.



And I think of how God encouraged me even before I weighed in. Some lovely ladies in Tyler, Texas presented me with a plaque after my speaking engagement this weekend. It was a framed verse: “Nothing is impossible with God.”

Nothing. Not even losing weight and toning up and doing a triathlon for the very first time at 43 years old.

So I’m not giving up.

I’m not giving in

I might throw my scale out the window, and laugh uproariously as it smashes into a gazillion evil pieces, but I will not give up.

So you don’t either, okay? Whatever fight you’re fighting today. Don’t give up. Tell yourself the same thing I’m speaking to my own brain: Success is a whole slew of small steps in the same direction—so just keep stepping – no matter what.

Amen and amen.