Kathy Weckwerth

Everyday Encouragement

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Words Matter

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Words Matter

By Kathy A. Weckwerth

P1030330Psalm 141:3 (ESV)  Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth;  keep watch over the door of my lips!

Over the past month, my women’s Bible study have been working through a book about our words.  Each week I ask the women to join me in paying attention to what we are saying each and every day, not just to others, but to ourselves.   We nod, we smile, we encourage one another, and then we head out the doors of the little church into the real world.  It’s not that easy!

The more that I started paying attention to what I was saying, the more I realized I say a lot of stupid things.  And the more stupid comments I made, the more I got mad at myself.  Where was this coming from?  Why was I continually saying things before I thought them through?  It was a habit … and a bad one at that.

So often in life we are told things about ourselves.  We are told that we are not a good student, or we will never make it on the basketball team, or we will never get that job, or we are just not good enough to work with those people.   We begin to believe what is spoken over us.

Sometimes we speak those kinds of untruths to ourselves.  We ruminate them over and over until we believe the negative lies that we hear in our heads, and then we follow through to the next step … we act on them!

Many times in my life I heard people say to me, “You can’t do that.”  People told me I couldn’t become a worship director, I couldn’t write books, I couldn’t sing or play piano, and I recently had a good friend tell me that Dean and I couldn’t run a business so our ministry wouldn’t flourish.

With each one of those statements made over me (and sometimes they were made more than once by more than one person) I would get shaken.  But something always happened to me.  I began to speak the truths that I knew came from God through scripture.  God made me to have musical talents and gave me the desire to use them and become a worship director.  And I did!  I served for over twenty-five years as one.

God gave me the talents to write and over the past two years, I have written three books.  Dean has been running a business (farm) for over 30 years and I have learned from some of the most distinguished pastors about leading teams, drawing people in to Christ, delivering conferences, and teaching.  God has blessed our ministry and we are continuing to grow.

When we begin to believe the lies, that’s when we cut ourselves (and God) short.  That’s when we’re not living our best life.

It’s time to start watching what we’re saying.  Are we negative?  Are we speaking negativity into our own lives and the lives of others?

[callout]It’s time to start making up a list with scripture that will back up all of the things that we know God wants to do in us, with us, and through us!  Believe in bigger things and better things and watch your words.  They really do matter![/callout]

 

 

 

Facing Things Alone

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Facing things alone .. by Kathy A. Weckwerth

photo by (pure heart) photography

photo by (pure heart) photography

This week was one filled with angst and trepidation and looking back, I thank God for the signs that He comforted me with as He reminded me … we are never alone.

I think about it often … the days where no one can face what we’re up against but us.  Can you relate?

There are days when you have to go in for an MRI, or you’re delivering your child, or you lost your daddy.  Those are the moments when you’d like to say to your friend or neighbor, you go through this because I don’t want to.

You walk in the hospital doors, you feel the fear that everyone is moving on with their lives but yours has stopped due to the trouble that’s engulfing you.

The woman standing next to you looks as though she is in a trance as the old man next to her gets up coughing and walks down the hall looking up and glancing at you, but you can see he’s as frightened as you are in this moment in time and space.

The nurse is chatty as she talks incessantly about her upcoming vacation to Montana, while needles are pushed in your arm to send pretentious dye into your veins, preparing you for the tests.

As you enter the MRI testing area, the technician rushes you, barks orders and lacks any kind of sympathy or bedside manner.  Your head is encompassed in a small mask while you’re pushed into a long tube and pray that you’ll never have to do this again.

And that’s the moment.  There it is.  It’s the same moment that comes when they say, “It’s time to push now,” and you feel the horrific pain  but know there will be an end to it.  Or it’s like the same moment when you walk down the church aisle and realize that the casket in front of you carries the loved one that you will never hear laugh or sing again.

Those moments where you realize that there is no one else on earth who can walk through it for you, are at times … the worst.  And yet, as you lay inside that tube with the horrific pounding of jack hammers in your ears, there is a peaceful place inside your mind, with sweet purple flowers and fields of green that greet you.  And you hear the Voice of your Savior whispering, “I am here.  You are not alone.  I have known about this day since the beginning of time.  I am your God, you are my child.  I will never leave you.  I am here.  I am right here with you.”  Peace begins to rush through the veins, circumventing the dye that has taken over and you feel a comfort that no human can give you.

[callout]Faith is mustered in those moments.  Sometimes it’s fragile and weak.  Sometimes it’s barely traceable.  And sometimes it stands up with strong hope and says, I am not alone for my God is with me.[/callout]

In the moments of your life, when fear and harm, when torment and sorrow meet loneliness, when you are the only one who can face the doctor, face the pain, face the darkness, you remember what God has told us … we are never, ever, ever alone, when we have Jesus as our Lord and Savior.  We walk with Him … and what a great peace we have when we know that He walks before us.

Grace and peace to you on the journey facing the challenges that only you alone can face,

Kathy 

 

“The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”  Deut. 31:8

 

 

Your World

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By:  Kathy A. Weckwerth

It was 19 years ago that I picked up the phone and answered politely, “Hello, law office.”  The woman on the other end of the line was very snappy.  Actually, snappy doesn’t even begin to describe it.  She was downright unkind.

The voice began, “I want answers and I want them now!”  She continued and insisted that I would help her, I would do this and that, and yet, she was the opposing counsel.

Serving as a legal assistant in the office, I could help her with a few things, but because of her attitude, I cringed as she continued to lambast me with what our office was doing wrong.

Something hit me hard … a thought … that perhaps, just maybe she was having trouble.  I paused and asked her,  “Debra, are you okay today?” Not condescending, not unkind, just genuine.

“What?” she asked.

“Well, you just seem kind of upset and I’m wondering if you’re having a bad day, or maybe something is horribly wrong? “I questioned.

There was a quick few seconds of silence and she answered, “Well, actually, yes.  I fell and hurt my back and I just feel awful.  The days are so long at work and another lawyer just left for vacation so my work load doubled.”

On and on Debra went with her woes as I quietly listened.  When she finished I said to her, “Debra, let’s pray together.”  I didn’t know if Debra believed in Jesus, I didn’t know if she ever set foot inside of a church, but I knew that Debra was stressed, needed help, and felt no one cared.

As an assistant to the opposing counsel to Debra, I should have been mean, told her to jump in a river, and hung up the phone.  My boss accused me of being “too nice” to the other side whenever we were preparing a case.  But I needed to help someone that needed help.

From that moment on, Debra called regularly, even when she moved on to another office.  I would listen, chat and pray.

And then something interesting happened.  The more that our clients called and talked about their aches and pains from their accidents, the more I began to listen and to pray with them.  I created a great repore and felt that I was encouraging those who needed prayer and hope.

My point?  [callout]We never know what’s happening in other people’s worlds.  Perhaps they just had a bad car accident.  Maybe their spouse just passed away.  Or maybe they lost their job, lost their home, or lost their hope.[/callout]

So often, this can create a short fuse and bring out the worst in people.  If I would have responded to Debra as I felt she deserved, it wouldn’t have been my best version of myself.

I will never forget the lesson I learned from one crabby phone call.  And so today, when someone snapped at me, I just paused and said, “Hey, what’s going on in your world?  Are you doing okay?”

We never really know what’s going on in other people’s lives until we find out.  Right? 

Finding Your Way Through Grief

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A few months ago, I was returning home from a speaking engagement.  The church was in a rural community, located a couple hours from my home.  As I looked at the beautiful, orange sun beginning to set, I suddenly panicked.  I didn’t remember the road to get back home. 

P1000666I pulled off onto the side of the road and reached for my GPS in the glove box. And then I remembered, my address doesn’t show up on the radar.  I quickly dialed my husband’s cell and it rang once, going directly to voicemail.  I knew it was turned off.  Oh my, I thought … time to pray. 

But the sun was setting, and I began to fret.  All of a sudden, the bleak miles without farms or any memorable landmarks began to make me feel a deep sense of panic, and a dark blanket of being completely alone surrounded me.  

How long would I be lost?  Should I just pull over again and try to make more calls?  And if I did, how would I describe where I was. 

With the last remains of the sun going down behind the trees and fields, I saw an elderly couple outside and did what any sensible woman in high heels and a cute jacket would do … I  stopped for directions. 

Oddly enough, I wasn’t that far from home after all.  It was just a few miles down the road. 

This morning, as I watched the sun coming up, I remembered that moment in time.  The few minutes where I seemed utterly and hopelessly lost, and it resonated so strongly with where I am today. 

You see, not quite one year ago, I lost my dear friend, Mary, to cancer.  My children so sweetly dubbed her “Grandma Mary” because she was just like a grandmother to them.  She served in the role of cheerleader, companion, mentor, mother, cook, assistant, and our ministries’ Director of Prayer and Care Support for the past six years of my life. 

I have been on a journey of grief.  I seem to have gotten lost.  The more I wanted to stop on the side of the road and rest, the more that life kept me busy, and the more I wandered the farmlands of my life.  I couldn’t seem to find my way through the sadness, through the emptiness, and through that dull ache that happens when that special person in your life is no longer on Planet Earth, operating in the role they were to you, in place that took up space in your world. 

I have to be honest and tell you that yes; I did make a few calls.  But they were calls that were dead ended, much like the forward to the message on a cell phone … no help … no comfort.  I did stop for directions, but no one seemed to know the way back from grief.  There was no GPS to take me from the aching of loss, to the Land of healing … or so I thought. 

For those who expect us to get up and move on suddenly, after a loss, I only sympathize and wonder how they will manage when they get lost on this road called “Grief.” 

For those who didn’t have the ability to deliver comfort or know the way home, I believe some day they will experience this same road without a map. 

But for me, here’s what I learned: 

  1. Grief is part of life.  It’s made up of the pieces of loss and sadness that are consistent with being born and dying.
  2. Grief is painful.  It will hurt, and running from it, ignoring it, or not processing it, will never work.  It continues to leave you stranded on the side of the road.
  3. Grief takes time.  Each person deals with grief differently.  What one person gets over in two weeks, another may not feel comfort for two years.
  4. Grief is a lesson.  Each time I suffer loss, I learn more about loss.  Each time I learn more about loss, I am able to bring comfort to someone because I know it, I get it, I have been lost before.
  5. God is the only True Healer.  I wanted other people to show me the way home to the Land of Comfort.  I wanted a GPS that would program my heart and mind there, and take me directly to feeling better.  I wanted it to go away.  But I learned that God, in His infinite wisdom, has given us His Word and His Spirit as Comforters to our soul.  There really can’t be anything or anyone else that will fill that void….He wants to do that for us. 

Today, if you’re grieving the loss of a parent, a child, a friend, a job, a house that you wanted and didn’t get, a child that you thought you were adopting and it didn’t go through,  or whatever your circumstance, God understands. 

[callout]You see, He’s the One who will get you from wherever you are lost, to wherever you need to go to get back.  And the truth is….you really don’t go back … it’s different … never the same … but God is with us in the “getting lost” … and He’s always about the … “getting found.”[/callout]

 

For More Information About Kathy A. Weckwerth & her ministry, Best Life Ministries, log onto www.bestlifeministries.com

2 Sides of the Fence

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Over the years and career of this path I’ve been on, the one called My Life, I have settled into the cool feel of grassy blades tickling my toes, while standing on that carved out path.  I have also felt the bite of rugged stones and sticks that have jabbed into my toes, reminding me that my side is not grassy and lush that day.   But for this day, I want to tell you about the fence. 

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAIn every life we have a fence.  It’s a fence that separates you from them, me from her, them from others, and we all experience being on the path and looking across that old wooden fence to see what’s happening on the other side. 

During my years at church ministry, I often saw the needs of so many, and watched how the pastors and staff would support … or would not. 

Elderly would call up needing a ride to the doctor and the secretary would arrange a ride.  Or a woman in need of financial support, going through a divorce crisis with her many children would call up and they would chastise her for her decision and begrudgingly send over a small check for gas, while the children were living on bread and peanut butter. 

I have stood on my side of the fence peering across the rough tops of each of its posts as someone has asked me for financial help, and I reached into my pocket for a few small bills, while another soul wrote and begged for yearly support and I tossed it in the garbage. 

And yet, at times, I have stood on my side of the fence, in my bare feet, cut and bleeding from the travels and begged for others to support me, only to find generous checks and large boxes of chocolate chip cookies, or a mere click of their computer keyboard to say, “Sorry … uh, uh.” 

The path continues.  The journey twists and turns and as I get older I watch to see what happens when someone who has much on the green grassy fields of their side of the fence steps up to the fencepost to say yes or no to that certain traveler on the muddy, rugged, rough side.  I listen and I watch.  

At times, I am pleased and I can feel my Father saying, “They chose wisely.”  And at other times I am in awe at the selfishness and haphazard responses of those who can help but will not. 

Yesterday I found myself at the fence.  I reached into my pocket to pull out a few dollars of financial support and a few moments of prayer support.  I wished that I could do more.  I could not.  I did what I could and gave all I could give. 

Today, I found myself at the fence.  I reached out to someone and said this need is bigger than our resources for our ministry.  They looked me square in the face and turned and walked away. The chose not to help. 

What happens when God calls us to meet at the fence?  What happens when He says I need you to help someone?  How do we respond? 

When we look at the book of Esther 4:13, Queen Esther is challenged by her cousin, Mordecai.  He needs her to go before King Xerxes to try to save the Jews from being killed by Haman and his evil plans.   

With Queen Esther on one side and Mordecai on the other, Mordecai simply says this, “Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape.  For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish.”  

God does not need us to stand at the fence dumbfounded.  We do not need to look at our ragged and torn shoes and dry ground and look across at the neighbors lovely lush field and his brand new boots and not wonder if God wants them to help us, or us to help others.  

When we are asked to help someone, we have the choice, as Esther did.  And if we do not respond, and turn and walk away, God tells us simply that He is the Ultimate provider, but in Esther’s circumstances, it’s quite clear she will lose out on the blessing of helping, as God will give that blessing to someone else. 

Where are we today on our path?  Are you looking across at a need that your friend or neighbor has?  Perhaps it’s a neighboring church or ministry that needs you or something you have to offer.  But you stare them down and walk away. 

Or maybe it’s you in need and you’re begging God for provisions, but that someone He has sent to you says, “No.” 

Will we miss out on that blessing?  Will the relief and deliverance arise from another place because we were not obedient? 

Today, I have my eyes wide open.  I’ve tied my shoelaces and I’m hiking the path.  Will I need help?  Probably.  Will my neighbor?  Most likely. 

[callout]But the real question is this … will I watch and listen for God, who is gently calling me to the fence post?  Because somehow, somewhere, in the face of that someone in need, I see the face of Jesus.[/callout]