What Does “Trusting God” Mean?

Trust is not one of my strong suits. I could try to blame my struggle on not knowing enough trustworthy people, but I know the problem is rooted in me . . . in my desire to protect myself and in my fear of getting hurt or let down.

Trust
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I know that not trusting others is one of my defense mechanisms. Whenever I’m faced with an issue requiring trust, I skip right over it and jump into evaluation mode.

I think to myself,

difficulties are actually for our good

Difficulties are actually for our good, but we get so angry over hardships, hurts, sorrows, grief, lost dreams, past betrayals, sick children, or chronic pain that we are blinded to the good work God is doing.

Captive Audience

If you could travel anywhere in the world, with anyone you love, without any financial worry, where would you go? Perhaps a cozy cabin in Canada’s Banff National Park or a reprieve in one of England’s rustic cottages?

Traveling
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Or imagine roving around Rome’s ancient ruins, adventuring on an African safari, or traveling through Brazil’s rainforests draped with waterfalls.

Such imaginary journeys are endless. I’ve found that time away, regardless the destination, is good for the soul, because time away often leads to contentment.

Paul’s letter to the Philippians was drenched with tones of kindness, contentment, and joy. Repeatedly, Paul used words such as . . .

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Healing

I often wonder what it would be like to get through one day without a jolt of terror running through my veins. One day without experiencing an off-the-chart startled response would be heavenly.

PTSD
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A soft knock on my office door or my husband’s gentle kiss to wake me in the morning can cause me to jump a mile high and send my heart rate into orbit.

People cannot understand the pervasive power of PTSD and its effects on the body and mind unless they have endured hard trauma. Hard trauma is defined as an event, experience, or ongoing circumstance that is or appears to be life-threatening.

Hard trauma cuts through a person’s ability to cope or process the traumatic event constructively.

The term has become more common due to studies of war veterans. However, an overwhelming number of people with PTSD are not war veterans; they are people we see every day:

Life: Is It What Happens to You or the Dreams You Carry Out?

Successful author and publisher and popular podcaster, Michael Hyatt loves to give people the inspiration, coaching, and resources they need to get noticed in a noisy world. If you’ve been mostly allowing life to happen, this interview can inspire you to discover the life you want, make a plan, and live life on purpose.

An Interview with Michael Hyatt

Life is so . . . daily. Just as one problem is solved, another one surfaces. We clock in and clock out of work, and eventually life itself becomes robotic and routine.

Michael Hyatt Headshot
Michael Hyatt

It doesn’t take long for our dreams to diminish into a cloud of dust, leaving us to wonder Is this all there is? or Where did the time go?

The truth is, we don’t have to live this way—allowing life to just happen as we drift along. We have choices. In this interview, I talk with Michael about how to discover the life we want, make a plan, and live life on purpose.

If you are sick of being stuck, longing for direction, care about how you want to be remembered . . . this interview will fill you with help and hope.

How to End Your Tortured Life

I hadn’t been to church in weeks. Illness, traveling, family needs, life. You get it. Last Sunday, we actually got to church. I’m always amazed at how no one at church looks like they are facing something impossible.

Tortured Life
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Everyone looks so pretty and polished; fresh and clean. However, how we look on the outside does not usually reveal what’s on the inside.

Because I wear my heart on my sleeve, it doesn’t take long for the sermon to press into the places where I’m struggling and remind me that I need a fresh reminder of the power of Christ’s cross.

But that was not how things started out last Sunday. The music didn’t really move me like it used to . . . the silence felt more irritating than peaceful . . . I was restless. The sermon was from Matthew 18. Here’s a taste: