Author: debbie beal

I remember being pretty antsy when my senior year of college rolled around.

I only had a few months to snag a boyfriend if I was hoping to finish up my MRS degree in time for graduation. That was always the plan, right? Graduate high school, go to college, graduate from college and then get married… the rest I could figure out with my husband.

Life didn’t really work out that way, though. It’s been over six years and I still get these anxious thoughts about needing to have a boyfriend so I can get married by these weird deadlines I’ve created for myself in my head. It didn’t help when all my single friends eventually got boyfriends, fiances and then husbands.

But…the thing is…
I’ve loved my life.
I wouldn’t change the way it’s gone down (if anything, I’d change the amount of time I’ve spent caring/worrying about being single). I talk to a lot of girls in their early twenties who are still single and in a lot of despair about never getting married, and I can’t help but think, ‘You’ve got so much time…and you’ve got so much time to do incredible things!’

Yes, marriage is a beautiful blessing and I’m looking forward to when it’s that time for me, but I don’t want to wish away the moments that I have now and the opportunities that I have now. Opportunities that I have because I’m not married.

So this post is for all the single ladies…especially all you ladies who feel discouraged about your singleness. Seize it. Live in it. Enjoy it. Take advantage of the time that you have, the freedom that you have, the ability that you have to do what you feel called to do without having to consider how a husband or family might affect that. Don’t alter the things you think the Lord is asking you to do because you’re scared that you couldn’t possibly meet the man of your dreams while doing it. Go! Do it! You just might meet someone when you least expect it…and even if you don’t, it shouldn’t be the priority in your life.

Would you trust that the Lord will be good and faithful to you in your desire for a companion? Would you trust that you don’t have to make it happen? Would you trust that you can truly surrender this part of your life and live abundantly in the greater calling He has for you right now?

Gosh, I know it’s easier said than done… but I earnestly yearn for this to not be a thing that drags you down or discourages you. There’s so much freedom and goodness to be found in your singleness.

If there’s something in your life that you know the Lord is calling you to but you’ve been hesitating because of the possibility of something working out with a guy…? I urge you to be obedient. If there’s something in your life that you know the Lord is calling you to but you’ve been ignoring because you think you’ll never meet someone in India or at that new job or volunteering for that organization…? I urge you to be obedient.

Don’t miss out on the greater thing for your life because you’re crippled by the fear of being alone. Don’t miss out on impacting the Kingdom eternally because you’re too focused on the temporary. Don’t miss out on the opportunities, on the experiences, on the people who the Lord is asking you to love because you are consumed by the ‘what-ifs’.

Go.
Be single.
Embrace this time…because you probably won’t have it forever.
Make waves in the Kingdom because of your willingness to go forth into whatever He is calling you to, single or not. Be willing to set aside your own plans for your life and live in the fullness, in the better, that He has for you.

I promise it’s awesome.
I wouldn’t change a thing.

Live a life of no regret, eh?

Have you ever been so overwhelmed by the way someone has given to you? And given, and given, and given… without asking for anything in return?

I have.
And in the midst of being overwhelmed, I’ve been steadily shown how hard it is for me to receive. To receive something from someone with no way to pay them back, with no real way to show them how thankful you actually are?

It’s emotionally unbearable. It’s brought me to tears every time I talk about it. I’ll probably cry at some point while I write this post.

I recently had a friend overwhelm me with kindness. It was a kindness I didn’t deserve, and yet, all I could do was receive it. No money could repay my debt…no words, no act, no anything. And so I stood, and I received…and recognized how I was experiencing the Gospel. The Lord used my friend to remind me of His kindness when I am so undeserving of it, His faithfulness when I seem unable to offer my own in return, His grace when I am in desperate need of it, His love when I am fearful of it.

I want to overwhelm someone with kindness.
I want to be someone who gives and gives and gives…and asks (and expects) nothing in return. I want to be that kind of friend. I want to be that kind of roommate. I want to be that kind of daughter, that kind of sister, that kind of co-worker, that kind of mentor. And, simultaneously, I know I need to be someone who is able to also receive it.

For as hard as it was for me to receive gift upon gift from a friend, I’ve realized how this paralleled my struggle to receive from the Father. The moments when I’m overwhelmed by His grace and mercy and love pouring out over my life are the moments when I feel the desperate need to somehow repay my debt. And then I come crashing to a halt where I realize I can do nothing…and I fall on my face, no words able to communicate how truly grateful I am. It’s one of the most humbling things I can think of.

Our debt has not only been paid, but we serve a God who continually lavishes goodness upon us. A God who gives and gives and gives. And even when we don’t always feel like it, and even when we feel forgotten and abandoned in the midst of various circumstances…the storm clears, and we see, yet again, Christ’s faithfulness throughout it all. We see the way He provided for us, the way He brought us into an even better that we never thought possible.

I pray that you remember that…and I pray that you can receive that, even in the times where God might feel far from you. I pray that He would bring someone into your life to remind you tangibly of what it means to receive when you feel most undeserving of someone else’s kindness. I pray that He would heap goodness upon you.

And I pray that we also might be people who simply overwhelm others with kindness. That we would go out of our way, that we would sacrifice, that we would live selflessly… because we believe that other people matter more than ourselves.

Wouldn’t that be beautiful?
I think so, too.

I’m thankful for overwhelming kindness.
It’s life-changing.

It’s been about a year.

I remember pretty vividly the moment I realized I needed to start this blog. At the time I felt quite inundated with girls asking for advice on various topics: boys, God, future, boys, God, future… In some form or fashion it probably always related back to their spiritual formation, and whether or not it had to do with school, jobs, money, boys, their past, sex, or straight up Jesus, God and the Holy Spirit, I felt under qualified to be giving any sort of advice. I mean, what do I know?

So, why not start a blog where I tell people what I think about things…?
Makes perfect sense, right?

I guess the moment struck me when I was talking with a girl face-to-face and she confided in me a story that she was ashamed to share with others. I found myself sharing part of my own story with her. ‘Don’t worry, friend… you’re not that crazy… listen to what I’ve done, and listen to the hope that I’ve found.’ I remember seeing relief in her eyes, an assurance that someone out there felt the same way as her, had even lived through it, and that there was light at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t that I had all the answers, but that I was willing to admit that I, too, didn’t have it all together.

I wanted this to be a blog of honesty, of rawness, of struggling through life together as we admit how disheveled our own lives can be and the hope we have found in spite of that. There seemed to be safety in the anonymity of an online forum, as I’ve encouraged people to write in and share their own stories with every post. There was probably the hope of developing some sort of ‘Dear Debbie’ column (that has a nice ring to it, eh?) where people could write in and I could share my own thoughts and stories on whatever the subject at hand was.

The blog hasn’t exactly been what I envisioned it being initially, but I think that’s okay. There’s been a lot of internal stretching each time I sit down to write, filtering through the next topic I’ll bare my soul to the world wide web about. I’ve been encouraged and supported by many and, oftentimes, an unlikely person will admit their gratitude for the blog. It’s been a fun journey…despite how hard and uncomfortable it’s made me at times.

I suppose this post is just a thank you.
Thanks for encouraging me well and for sharing your life and heart with me as you journey and sift through hard things.

There may be some changes in the near future, and some hopes to launch even bigger things as I long to reach an even wider community. Hopefully you’ll also be willing to support me in that endeavor. Your feedback as I continue with this online dialogue is crucial, so please don’t to hesitate to let me know ways that I can better benefit you and serve you.

I think each time I post, there’s always a prayer that just one person takes something good from it, that just one person finds a bit of hope, that just one person sees Jesus more clearly… and even if it’s just one person, I pray that the Lord is ultimately glorified.

One year down.
Let’s keep growing together, learning together, fighting together.
It’s gonna be worth it all.

I once told my oldest brother that I wanted a man that’s a man. You know, big and man-like. Coarse hands, broad shoulders, deep voice, hair on the chest (I’m not really into that whole chest-shaving thing).

He looked at me and simply said, ‘That’s not what makes someone a man.’

Shoot. It’s not?
I mean, I know it’s not… but do I really? The truth of my brother’s statement pierced through the lies I have allowed myself to believe for decades (I think I’m old enough to say that now…).

It actually made me start thinking about all the seminars, talks, conferences, break-out sessions that we go to on being godly men and women. Only…we go to the ones that teach us how to be godly within our own genders. I can’t think of a time where I’ve gone to, or was given a chance to go to, something on learning what it means to identify a godly man, allow him to truly pursue you, and really dwell on the things that actually matter in a romantic relationship.

I think it doesn’t typically happen for a few reasons. One, we’re probably too scared that it’ll cause people to ‘lose their focus’. Completely devoting something like that to the opposite gender in a way that’s talking about the good stuff seems pretty sketch. It makes it seem like we’re encouraging dating and romance when really we’d rather young people stay away from it as long as possible so they don’t accidentally lose their virginity. We also probably assume lots of it is obvious. Don’t date jerks. Everyone knows that, right? Why do we need to tell people that? I don’t know… but it seems to happen too much of the time, so maybe we’re missing something.

Here’s all I’m getting at…
At some point along the way I started believing that the man of my dreams would be a certain way. We can blame society, or my role models, or the books I’ve read, or the movies that I’ve watched, or the advertisements that I see… but, regardless of where it came from, I don’t think when I was younger that there was ever anyone telling me that I should maybe keep my heart open to men wrapped in a very different package from my expectations.

What is a godly man?
And beyond that, how do I be attracted to that when it can look so different from my knight and shining armor?

When a man loves the Lord passionately, seeks Him with His whole heart, is kind, generous, selfless… a man of good character… can that be enough? Can my heart be opened to, regardless of whatever is on the outside, allowing this to be ‘man’ enough for me?

I guess I’m just admitting my superficiality. That my understanding of what it means to be a ‘man’ has more to do with earthly things than eternal things…and that needs to change. I feel like I need to retrace my steps through life and erase the moments when I thought that being a man required athleticism, intelligence, muscles, good-looks, height… and whatever else my mind has firmly established as ‘manly’.

It kind of feels like something that only Jesus can do, though. And I pray that He does. I want to fully appreciate men who are wholeheartedly devoted to Christ without mentally emasculating them in the process. To fully see that kind of man as someone who is truly a ‘man’, regardless of their appearance or their fleshly skills.

To let what matters matter…and to let what doesn’t fade away.

Ladies, I hope you’ll join me in this prayerful endeavor to truly honor the men in our lives who are on this treacherous path of attempting to (much like us) fight what the world is saying what kind of men they should be versus what the Lord is calling them to. May we be women who seek to love them for who they are, not what they can do or how they look. May we be women who can set aside expectations and standards for what we thought we always wanted, and be women who can be open to something different and, most assuredly, better.

Men, I’m sorry for the ways we’ve so often let you down in this, for the ways that we’ve discouraged your walk with Jesus and undermined it’s importance because we’ve been too consumed with caring about things that simply don’t matter. I pray that you’ll find the freedom to live abundantly in Him, trusting that there are women who will see and love the beauty that flows from a heart that is truly devoted to Christ.

I’m so very thankful for you, men.
Thank you for continuing to follow, even when it’s hard. Thank you for striving to live lives with your eyes set on heavenly things and not earthly things.

I still have much to learn, and much to grow in.
And so the fight resumes…
Join me.

I wonder when I’ll stop feeling like I’m a guest in someone else’s home.

Sometimes I’ll find myself chanting things aloud: This is my house, this is my house, this is my house… this is my town, this is my town, this is my town…

This is my life…

I’m here.
I’m doing it. ‘It’ being something different and weird and unknown. It’s just happening. I think that if my life was confined to existing in my house and getting around town (and spending money), I’d be okay. The hard part comes in finding community, looking for a job (so I can spend money), attending classes which require a whole lot of reading and self-discipline… essentially creating a new life for myself. Everything so far has seemed pretty emotionally effortless. Diving in deeper is what scares me.

I think this going to be especially hard in relationships. At this point in my life I sort of feel like I have enough good friends. I don’t need anymore. I want to extend effort in maintaining the friendships that I already have…not exert energy in trying to make new ones. It’s exhausting to think about the repetitive conversations that I’ll have over and over again as I get to know new people. Some part of me just wants to know the people I already know, to find comfort in the fact that I don’t have to give background for why I am the way that I am, to be in silence with others and not have it be awkward.

I know…
I know It’s not feasible and it’s not actually what I want. It just feels easier to be an elusive hermit who goes to class, goes to work, goes to church….and then hides out the rest of the time.

But, in reality there’s a part of me that’s excited about new friendships and investing in new people and vice versa. It’s just hard to think about reaching the same level of friendship that I already have with others… and I think I want to expedite the process. I want to immediately have friends. Good friends.

I recognized just tonight that I can’t expect these things to happen on their own, either. I have to be willing to put forth effort. I think when we are the ‘new person’ we have this expectation that others should come to us, others should reach out to us, others should include us…but a lot of times we’re unwilling to make the same effort ourselves.

I was talking to a girl who is in the same program as me and was thinking, ‘It’d be really nice to talk to her more about all of this stuff and maybe get to know her more. I hope she’d be willing to hang out with me.’ And in that, I realized I had this expectation that she should be making this effort to help me out in my transition to school. Upon such a realization, I decided that was ridiculous and that she probably had a lot going on, and so I began to ask her how busy her life was in the next few weeks which immediately took us to a mutual agreement that we should hang out. Just like that! Give and take.

Perhaps she’s cool enough that she would have initiated hanging out with the new girl on her own, but I think it’s always helpful when both parties are willing to make an effort.

It’s something to consider if you’re ever the new person. Whether that’s in a class, or at church, or at a job, or in a family, or wherever. To be willing to put yourself out there, to initiate connection beyond casual get-togethers, to truly be interested in other people’s lives without expecting them to take you in and take care of your needs. I think it’s good. And I think I’m going to have to do a whole lot more of it, no matter how uncomfortable it might feel sometimes. I honestly think it will be an important way to develop true, meaningful friendships.

And, shoot, if you see a new kid around…don’t hesitate to eat lunch with them, invite them to join you for something, take time to make them feel like they matter…

It’s easy to feel lost and alone when you’re the new girl, but it doesn’t have to be where you remain.

Choose to engage.
Always.

(You might want to read the previous post before reading this one…) 

There have been a lot of thoughts rumbling around in my head lately without a lot of time to write any of them down. Between final moments with friends and family, 22 hour road trips and trying to move in and feel like a strange town is actually my new town…’down time’ seems to escape me. Maybe that’s okay for now.

But…I’ve been thinking about betrayal some lately.

Betrayal.
It’s a horrifying word. And, a rather weird word (if you look at it too long). In its simplest definition it means to be disloyal. It’s one of those words that I don’t think you fully understand until you actually experience it.

I was in that boat a majority of my life. I could give textbook thoughts on betrayal, and I might even be able to empathize with you if you had experienced some sort of betrayal, and some might say that I was even a betrayer at various points (although I certainly hope that’s not true)…but I hadn’t ever really been betrayed. At least not in the way that shatters your heart, or in the way that makes you want to vomit, or in the way that makes you feel like someone is punching you in the gut…over and over and over again.

In the last few years, my sheltered existence finally caved and opened me up to the harsh reality of betrayal. It’s maybe one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced emotionally before. Someone else’s actions cause your entire being to recoil in horror, disbelief, anger, and hatred. Darkness is consuming and before you know it, this emotion is having a physical affect on you. Your hands are shaking, your voice doesn’t sound like your voice….sometimes it’s hard for you to speak because your level of nauseousness makes you feel uncertain that you can keep it all down. Everything hurts. Any trace of joy has been sucked out of you.

Betrayal.
How do you ever recover from it?
How do you ever move on?
Can you ever possibly forgive?

I’ve had to make some tough choices in the face of betrayal and while my flesh sought vengeance for the wounds I fear I’ll never truly heal from, there wasn’t a chance that I could follow through with it. I remember specifically being in the midst of one of the most heart-wrenching betrayals and hearing Matt Maher’s song Christ Has Risen pound through my head: ‘Freely You’ve bled for us…’

Us.
His blood has been shed for me and those who have betrayed me. I am not better than them. I am just as in need of Jesus. Who am I to withhold forgiveness when I serve a God who so willingly gives it even though we reject Him, abandon Him, run from Him…and betray Him…? 

Forgive?
But how I can I? And what does that possibly mean? What does that look like?
I think it’s different in different situations, but I think it’s absolutely necessary.

I’ll leave it here for now… I suppose you could consider this ‘Part I’ of a blog on betrayal and forgiveness. But… if you’ve been betrayed (whether recently or long ago) and you’re battling through forgiveness and what that needs to look like, let’s talk.

It’s hard.
It hurts.
It’s unfair.

But there’s hope.
Stay tuned.

As the final countdown began and the ball dropped, my friend brought up the calamity in her heart to all of us.

On my own, pretending he’s beside me…

My latest experience with Les Miserables hasn’t fully wiped away all my previous ones, but it’s certainly helped erase the reminiscent sounds and screeches of my musical theatre classmates from high school as they attempted to mimic the great classics that should never be performed by non-professionals. In fact, Les Mis seemed to be a musical of choice as classmate after classmate got up to sing yet another rendition of On my Own, Bring Him Home, or I Dreamed a Dream. Sometimes it felt like torture.

I saw the movie yesterday and while there are critiques to be made and I was slightly disappointed with the inability to be completely encompassed in the sound as I had been in the Broadway production of the musical, I felt like I was able to follow the plot better than ever before.

I sat in the theatre and was immediately inspired by a beautiful story of redemption and true change. It’s a show that immediately engages your heart as you are constantly immersed in the inner thoughts and struggles of each character. And I couldn’t help but think, ‘Why can’t I always feel like this? Why doesn’t love always feel like this? Why doesn’t life feel like this?‘ This intense heartache coupled with the greater joy that accompanies love and romance.

I remember applying to grad schools a few years back to get my Master’s in Counseling. As I interviewed with one, I remember talking to a few of the current students about the program, discussing both the pros and the cons. I’ll never forget one conversation I had with one of the girls. She told me that in this program she had uncovered more pain and heartache than she ever thought possible…but with that was a greater joy and love that was deeper than anything she’d ever known. I wanted to know that. I wanted to dig through the sludge and the muck, and while there might be great tragedy to process through, there might also be great triumph.

Les Mis kind of brought this to life for me. Knowing great joy in the midst of so much pain. In the midst of despair, poverty, destitution, death…there was still something to hope for, something to dream of, something (or someone) to love. And as we go about our daily, often mundane lives, I wonder how we become people who are passionately living through both the joys and destruction in our lives. In the face of tragedy, how do we become people who are willing to go to the depths of the pain so that we might know the greater joy?

Or are we people who run from it, avoid it, pretend it simply doesn’t exist? When we experience loss, or heartache, or devastating news… are we willing to wade through the hurt in hopes that we might discover something better? Are we willing to confront our worst enemies (which may very well lie within us) in order to find victory and redemption as we choose better? And are we willing extend this same hope to others around us….to offer them a second chance?

Can we be like the priest who offers Jean Valjean both hope and freedom in a single gesture as he gives a thief another of the silver that was already stolen? Can we be like Valjean who faces his inner darkness and chooses to love despite his inclination to hate? Can we search for ways to, in a moment, be people who extend grace and forgiveness instead of only offering judgment and penalties for breaking the law?

Can we be people who watch movies like Les Mis and allow them to move us toward action…whether it’s internal or external? Can we be a people who might believe that the Lord can use any medium in which to call His people into something greater and deeper, into a place where we come out loving Him and His people more abundantly than ever before? A place where we are reminded of the grace and redemption we’ve experienced in our own lives as Jesus Christ paid the penalty for all of our sins and transgressions…a place where we desperately long for others to know the fullness of both the depravity and hope we wrestle with as we receive such a sacrifice and embrace the joy of what it means for our lives.

These are the things I think about when I watch Les Miserables (and thousands of other movies/tv shows, actually). What do you think about?

Coming home is always weird.

Perhaps you can relate to these sentiments as you drive down old streets, run into past classmates, hang out with your high school friends, and revisit the memories of your former self. Unfortunately, the feelings that accompany such sentiments aren’t always the warm fuzzy ones of nostalgia. In fact, I used to hate coming home.

I hated it because I didn’t always like who I had been…and coming home reminded me of that person’s existence. I’d rather forget that person had ever been a part of me.

There’s been something strangely refreshing about coming home this time around, though. It didn’t hit me until Christmas Eve service, where my family returned to the church I had grown up in. We stopped attending that particular church when I was about thirteen, so it had been a while since I had been back. My brother, sister-in-law and I gave ourselves a tour prior to the service beginning. In the process of creeping through the dark hallways and empty rooms, there was an unlocking of several memories for me.

see.. who IS that little blonde-haired girl, anyway?

I was barely engaged in the actual service, as I looked around at many faces that I hadn’t seen in over a decade. These people knew me as a small, blonde-haired little girl. These were the people that would say things like, ‘I didn’t even recognize you…’, and, now that I’m older, I can actually appreciate the comments. How many times in my own life have I gasped in disbelief at how old someone now is?

I realized that this church held pieces of me. It held memories for me. And as we wandered around, it was as though these vague memories in my mind were slowly becoming realities once again. It wasn’t just how I imagined it was… it was actually how it was. It was a delight! It was affirmation that these things happened, that they were real, that they played a valuable role in who I am today.

The same feelings have washed over me as I’ve reminisced with old friends and also my family. Beyond the catching each other up to speed on what our lives currently look like, there’s always moments of remembering the past. These memories, through these friendships, are affirmed as real… and I love that. I love that shared experiences can bring us back into moments that we begin to think we only made up in our minds. I love that while the details can be fuzzy, through the ‘Wait! Didn’t it happen like this….’ and the ‘I thought that he said this…’ we are slowly able to paint a picture of how it all actually played out.

And while I don’t always love who I was during my childhood, adolescent and teenage years (or early twenties or even late twenties…)..I think there’s something beautiful to acknowledging that each of those things have played a part in making me who I am today. They’re a part of my story. It’s a story that I don’t want to forget simply because I’m scared of looking at the harsh realities of who I once was. More than ever, I find myself wanting to open the doors of my past, wanting to revisit the good, the bad, the ugly… and allow for the truth of how I’ve changed to be most prevalent. The truth of how the gospel has transformed, redeemed, and saved me.

I don’t want to run from my past.
I don’t want to run from who I was.
I don’t want to lock away all the bad things I’ve ever done or been and pretend like they don’t exist. I think it’s good for us to be aware of those things, to even be reminded of those things… and to live in the fullness of the changed people that we are.

Coming home is weird.
But weird doesn’t have to be bad.

If you’re anything like me, I hope that coming home can be met with positivity instead of negativity (as mine has typically been in the past). I hope you’re able to embrace the fullness of who you are, acknowledging that all events of your past have brought you to this place. They aren’t the things that define you, but they are things that are part of you. The Lord has used it all and is intrinsically weaving it all together to make everything beautiful in its time.

There’s much to hope in. Much to be excited about. No matter where you come from, what you’ve done, who you’ve been….

Don’t run from it. Don’t hide it. Don’t be ashamed of it.
Let the fullness of your story radiate, as you let the reason for your hope and redemption shine through the darkest parts of your past.

Somewhere, somehow, in some way…
Jesus makes it okay.

I hope we can be a people who truly believe that.