My aunt and uncle recently lost their home in the Nashville, Tennessee tornado. Before they could turn on the TV to watch the weather, they heard a freight train sound and felt the air change. They dropped to the floor just as their roof blew off. 

In the chaos, they motioned to one another to crawl downstairs to their storm shelter. But the downstairs door would not budge because of the intense pressure. My aunt began to cry out, “God, help us! God, open the door!” 

 

Then God said, “let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over every living creature that moves on the ground…So in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. God blessed them….“—Genesis 1:26, 27, 28 (NIV)

If you’re like me, you may have read the creation story in Genesis so many times without every really noticing its profound nature. The truth is that there is much power contained in these few sentences. Let’s take a look together at five truths about your identity found in the scriptures above.

 

When my kids catch a glimpse of lightning bugs for the first time one summer, they assume they’re battery powered. “Are those little flashlights attached to anything?” they ask….The first year after Cameron goes missing, it’s my inner child–the one who still believe sin the magic of lightning bugs–that hurts the most.

 

I know this isn’t true in every home, but for many of us at Christmas, the majority of the cooking, baking, shopping, list-making, decorating, and general holiday-magic-creating falls on women. While this might be great fun for some of us, for others who are also balancing the realities of work, school, or homemaking—the holiday stress can get very real.

There’s a house currently being constructed directly behind mine. Each day I watch the process as the workers settle the land, pour the new foundation, and begin framing the walls. I always think about the courage of the construction workers. Their work may seem routine or mundane, but they really are brave souls- climbing onto dangerous heights, working with high-powered machinery, and skillfully grasping their designer’s plans.

Have you ever been hurt? I bet I already know the answer—it’s a resounding yes. We’ve all been through something difficult or walked with someone who has. We walk through wilderness seasons—of loss or setback—and wonder where God is and what we are supposed to do about it?

In difficult seasons, there are some powerful truths about God that can give us courage. Let’s take a look at some words from Exodus chapter three, about God’s visit with Moses.

 

 

When I mentor young women, I often ask, “If you could go back in time and speak to the younger version of yourself, what would you tell her?” It’s a question I regularly consider myself. My list changes from year to year as I mature in my relationship with Jesus. However, the one piece of advice I tend to circle back to is this: You will be tempted to pick at, criticize, and tear apart every good thing about you – from your gifts, to your looks, to your ideas, to your passions. Don’t give even a corner of your mind to such thoughts. You are only adding to the madness of a misguided culture if you do. Instead, look at yourself and say, “I am in the process of being made into the likeness of Christ–and his work is always very good….”

 

 

I walked onto Wheaton’s campus with a bag full of the latest academic work on Leadership and Evangelism, a computer, a handful of snacks, some gum, and a massive cup of coffee. I also carried an even heavier emotional bag full of concerns, nerves, and questions. What will I bring to the table? Can I handle this level of scholarship? How will I use my voice? Will they even like me?

I sat around a table with yet another group of women who were confessing feelings of loneliness and shame.

“I feel like I don’t belong anywhere.”

“I see pictures on social media of people hanging out. Why aren’t they including me?”

“When will I get over my teenage insecurities?”

“Why are friendships with women so difficult?”

“I was rejected again.”

“I don’t feel good enough or capable enough to be used powerfully by God.”

On the night of Cam’s funeral, we lit paper lanterns and watched them float across a starry Nashville sky. Some of the lanterns came together and formed the letter C, as if God was saying, “I see you here. I am honoring Cameron with you. You are not alone.”

Sometimes during the day, I see clouds in the shape of the letter C, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s my imagination or if it’s another supernatural gift of love.