The Adventure of Living in Two Settings at Once by Michelle Strutzenberger

If setting is where a story unfolds, then we as Christians have an awesome advantage. We get to exist in two settings at once. Even while we walk, wander, wash and whistle on this physical earth, we simultaneously live and move in another setting – the Kingdom of Christ.

It can be rather fun to think of our lives in this way.

As we meander down the slushy street on a grey afternoon, the stranger walking towards us could likely never guess we are also, in that moment, travelling through another world.

When we rub the sleep from our eyes in the morning, no matter what the hours ahead hold, we can anticipate adventure because of this simple fact – we straddle two realities.

Perhaps the most wonderful, life-giving, heart-filling part of it all is this: That while our time in the one setting will one day stop, it won’t in the other. Our existence in the Kingdom of Christ goes on forever.

As writers of faith, we can see ourselves as brokers between the two realms. We bring back stories, lyrics, poems, and lessons infused with Kingdom of Christ air to share in the stale, dead fog of a society that believes one sad setting is all they’ve got and all they’ll ever get.

It’s really quite exciting, this opportunity we have. May we continue to be energized and active in making the most of it, until our two-setting existence is up, and we continue our adventure with Christ throughout eternity.

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the bi-weekly tips, visit this link and subscribe.

Image by 👀 Mabel Amber, who will one day from Pixabay

New Windows in My Heart by Michelle Strutzenberger

With the deaths of two beloved family members and the choice of my oldest daughter to move thousands of miles away, my heart has taken quite a beating over this past year.

Grief has a way of shaking up the protective structures we wisely build around our hearts.

If I’m completely honest, as I’ve mourned, I’ve failed a few times in keeping the safeguard strong around the centre of my being.

Discouragement has snuck in through the gaps.

Even worse, despair and bitterness have slipped between the cracks on occasion.

I don’t confess this gleefully or with pride. I know how very destructive these attitudes can be to a person’s heart.

Yet though I’ve allowed in worse than I should have, this awful time has reminded me that God can make something beautiful out of anything—even the shaken walls around our hearts.

Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is near to the broken-hearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (ESV).

We may be inclined to think this verse is suggesting that God moves nearer as our hearts break.

However, I find it hard to believe that our good and loving Father moves closer to us as we crumple over in suffering yet stands at a distance when the sun is gleaming, and the soft breezes of wellbeing kiss our lives.

Instead, I believe we can trust that our God and Saviour is always near to us, both through our too-short days of life’s brilliance sparking songs and smiles, and also through our long, long nights of aching and tears.

The difference may be that in the times when our hearts are crushed and broken, God’s nearness becomes more visible to us. The cracks and holes that the pain drills into our hearts’ chamber walls become windows to the Lord’s constant presence and comfort.

When suffering riddles our hearts with gashes and gaps, it can be easy for discouragement and even despair to creep inside.

Yet at certain moments and in different ways I am slowly finding that my time of sorrow can be a window-maker to a truth I can quickly become numb to—that Jesus is still close. As this truth pours over my aching heart, I am filled with gratitude to realize that it brings with it the gifts of new hope and fresh healing.



Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the bi-weekly tips, visit this link and subscribe.

Image by Vladimír Elexa from Pixabay

A Butter Tart in My Hand by Michelle Strutzenberger

This month’s prompt drops me back to my years after high school when I was peering into the mist of adulthood. Eager to start on the next adventure of my life, I constantly sought the Lord’s will for all the big questions: Who should I marry? What should I do for my career? Where should I live?

But while studying the story of Moses and his staff, I was convicted to pull back from anguishing about those vast, often overwhelming questions. Instead, I found myself encouraged to focus on this question: What do you have in your hand right now?

I worked then as a packer in a butter tart factory in Chilliwack, B.C. The item literally most often in my hand at the time was a sweet, moist, delicious dessert – a butter tart. The Lord worked in my heart to understand that He could use even a simple butter tart as I surrendered myself, my dreams, my yearnings, and my desire to “get on with life,” to Him.

By the Holy Spirit’s leading, I found myself asking two main questions as I headed to my job in the factory each day: 

How can I be a witness to my fellow workers today as we bake and wrap and box those butter tarts together? 

How can I be a blessing to my fellow workers?

Years later, I have moved on from that job. The contents in my hand have changed. Today, I carry a few different items as I teach, write, and raise my family – a bottle of water, a well-scribbled planner, a phone with regular reminders to pray. Yet the questions I ask myself each morning as I drink my coffee, zip on my shoes and head into work are much the same as they were decades ago:

Lord, how can I be a living witness for you today?

In what specific ways can I be a blessing to whomever I cross paths with?

With Moses, God accomplished great miracles using his staff. While He never transformed my butter tart into a snake or my planner into a serpent, I am trusting that He can and will use every small act of obedience for His glory and the blessing of others.

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series  called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the bi-weekly tips, visit this link and subscribe.

V is for Valma: The Call to Name as Christian Writers ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

 

She couldn’t pronounce the letter “v.” And, yet, stunningly, her name began with a “v.” Valma. A student in my beginner English class, she could read and write fairly well. But her lips couldn’t seem to form into the required shape for certain sounds of the English alphabet. The letter “v” especially bewildered her.

I remember exaggerating my own mouth movements, setting my upper teeth firmly on my lower lip to help her see what her mouth needed to do. She would glance at me and laugh at my contorted lower face, then half-try, and finally fail as her lips met in a very distinct “b” sound. Balma.

She couldn’t pronounce her own name properly.

But I could. So could several of her fellow students, themselves learners of the English language. We could name her.

In her book, Walking on Water, Madeleine L’Engle writes on the power of naming. Of course, in her case, she is not referring simply to the act of verbalizing one another’s names. I especially love how L’Engle writes about the power of stories to “help us become whole, to become Named.”

My student’s challenge with pronouncing her own name could be a kind of picture for any one of us who struggles with feeling less than whole. We may be so broken we can’t even name ourselves. We need someone else to speak over us.  

It’s interesting to me that labels and names stand so close in meaning, and yet they carry completely different connotations.

We slap labels on pickles and Amazon packages. Our minds pin invisible labels on our neighbours, church acquaintances, and in-laws. Left-wing. Right-wing. Charismatic. Selfish.

Many of us may need to peel off labels we or others have pasted on ourselves over the years. Inadequate. Failure. Stupid. Sloppy.

Labels suit pickle jars perfectly.

But they can harm humans terribly. Labels should come with a warning: Not for use on people.

However, the act of naming is a completely different story.

He has been named athlete of the year.
We named her after my sister.
They have been named in our will.
We just named our chickens.

Naming in our regular vernacular carries the idea of bestowing – bestowing recognition, honour, possessions, even personality.

L’Engle also adds this notion of naming as a way to become whole, to become more fully who we were meant to be.

“When we name each other, we are sharing in the joy and privilege of incarnation,” L’Engle writes.

My question is, how can we contribute to the wholeness of one another as Christian writers? How can we name each other?

Again, L’Engle offers a clue. We name one another – that is, we contribute to one another becoming more whole -- as we create and enjoy art that “leads us to living more deeply with Christ in God.”

Through the power of the Holy Spirit, may we all as Christian writers continue to fulfill this calling on our lives until He returns.

Reference: L'Engle, Madeleine. Walking on Water : Reflections on Faith & Art. Wheaton, Ill. :H. Shaw, 1980.

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series  called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the bi-weekly tips, visit this link and subscribe.

U is for the Beauty of U-turns ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

Each morning, I wake to the heartache of knowing a precious family member has chosen to walk an unwise path. But recently I was encouraged as I remembered that just because she has started on that path does not mean she has to finish on it. She can make a u-turn.

Someone making a u-turn, I have determined may be one of the most beautiful, hope-filling actions we can witness or experience on the road of life.

I also know how very hard it can be to admit that we need to do a u-turn. Coming to a place where we realize we are not heading in a life-giving direction can be very humbling. I’ve been at that spot in the road several times. Sometimes I’d rather die than gulp down my pride and slowly spin on my heels away from where I was venturing.

With our writing goals and projects, sometimes we need to make u-turns. In a culture that prizes setting our objectives and then working relentlessly until we fulfill them, choosing to make a u-turn partway through can feel like failure or at least evidence that we didn’t think things through beforehand as carefully as we should have.

I’ll never forget a video series I began with high excitement. Partway through, I realized the enormous effort and time required made the project an unwise move. I hadn’t realized until I started the project just how much it would require of me. It was very humbling to share with my audience that there would be no new videos for a while.

It’s helped me to recall my wise father’s oft-repeated counsel: “A wise person changes his/her mind.” Sometimes, the very best thing we can do is change our minds. We have gathered new evidence, new experiences, new insights, and now we need to make a u-turn. Sometimes, we should have gathered that information before we even started down the road. But sometimes we need to travel down the road before it becomes clear that it’s not the one we should be cruising.

The challenge for each of us is always this – when we see we need to make the u-turn, will we be humble enough to take the necessary action?

On Earth’s physical roads, u-turns are often forbidden. Even when the signs aren’t posted, we can feel like we’re doing something wrong when we whip around and start heading back in the opposite direction.

But in our everyday lives, u-turns can save lives and families, relationships, and jobs. As we trust God to help us become humble enough to make these u-turns, they become massive signs pointing to His immense grace and abundant love.

In everyday life, u-turns can be beautiful. Is there one you need to make today?

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series  called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the bi-weekly tips, visit this link and subscribe.

Teatime with my Fellow Writers ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

Will you join me for a cup of tea and a scone? Have a seat. Here you go. The tea is hot, so be careful. I made the strawberry jam.

Aaaaah. Isn’t this lovely?

Now, I’d love to hear all about your work.

What are you excited to be writing these days?

Interesting. That sounds like a good challenge.

You’re asking about my work? Well, I’ve recently been encouraged to revisit a book I wrote on my journey through grief after the death of my twin. I wrote and self-published it to share with a few friends and family several years ago, but I’m wondering about editing it and publishing an updated version. I’m just praying about it right now. It will be a challenge for me, so if you could help me pray about this, I would be grateful.

Speaking of challenging writing tasks, what are some practices that you follow to help you cope?

Very good. Thank you for sharing. You’re wondering about mine? Well, one is prayer. I pray before I write, while I write, and after, when I am sharing. I feel I need the Lord’s guidance and strength every step.

I also try to ensure I write when I have the mental and emotional “space” to do so. In other words, if I am exhausted physically, emotionally spent due to some crises in my life, or just have too much on my plate, I will not push myself to write. I wait for a time when I have a few hours of quiet and I am in a relatively calm state of mind.

One more question, what is your greatest hope or prayer for your current writing project?

Okay, thank you for sharing. What is my greatest prayer for this project, you ask? Well, if I do go forward with this book, I would like to know that readers are helped and encouraged in their own grief journeys. I have been very careful in sharing my grief story not to say that others must follow the same grief path. I believe everyone will grieve differently and, also, each person will find different things helpful in coping. However, if I can share my story and experience, others may at the very least find hope that if I could get through, then they can too.

“After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you” (1 Peter 5:10).

It’s been so nice to chat today. Let’s keep in touch, okay?

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series  called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the bi-weekly tips, visit this link and subscribe.

Star mapping from the dung heaps of life ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

As a frequent flyer in the dung heaps of life, I have found that the older I get, the more I can relate to such verses as: Yet man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward. (Job 5:7, NIV)

It wasn’t always so for me. When I was younger, I cradled a deeply hidden belief that someday all would be better in my life on this Earth. Yes, I looked forward to heaven, but I secretly felt (though I likely would never have said this aloud) that if one just did all the right things, eventually this life could become quite heavenly, that is, problem-free, too.

 

Well, here I am, testing that wide-eyed, youthful, hopeful belief – and sometimes I laugh to myself.

 

And then I sigh.

 

If anything, the more I have advanced in years, the more the troubles have multiplied.

 

Furthermore, the word on the street is, the problems only rain faster and thicker the longer one lives.

 

So, what is one to do?

I remember learning about the dung beetle that navigates by the stars years ago. At the time, I was entranced. Awww, what a fascinating and potentially deeply symbolic picture – the wee, little bug, ploughing his way through that stinky mess, yet with his radar tuned to the heavens.

 

I just knew there had to be a lesson for me in that decidedly fun aspect of nature.

 

For years, the lesson never came to me. But just this past week, I thought again of that little poop-tourist and the question jabbed me - why in all of tarnation is the beetle still climbing through the dung heap? He’s got the stars to guide him, for Pete’s sake! Why doesn’t he use those stars to walk his way right out of the squelch and putrid odours onto lovely, cool, sweet-smelling grass?

 

I had to find out, so I dug up the facts.

 

Well, I found some good news – and yes, a life lesson. The good news is – most dung beetles do in fact use the stars to navigate away from the dung pile. Although there are a few lazy ones, most of them don’t retire in that filth.

 

And the life lesson? Before leaving the pile, the beetles make themselves a little ball made of that same dung to take with them. Then, while they are on their travels, led by the Milky Way, they munch away on their little dung truffles and so stay alive.

 

As I prayed about what I can learn from the dung beetle and his strange little habit, it came to me that maybe it’s this – as I look to the Lord to guide me through my troubles, maybe I need to be more intentional about making my own little “dung truffles.”

Let me explain. How many of us fall into a hard time, ask God for help, eagerly receive His rescue and counsel, and then happily bounce away, soon forgetting all that He’s done and able to do – until we step into the next pile of stinky trouble.

 

Maybe, each time we go through trouble and receive the Lord’s help, we need to take with us a little reminder of exactly how He answered. We need to make ourselves a dung truffle, or, I like this term better, a memory nugget.

 

We need to carry with us a memory nugget of how specifically God showed us His grace and mercy and help. We need to munch on that nugget as we traverse from dung heap to dung heap, all the while gazing upwards for His guidance.

 

I’ve somewhat done this over the years. I keep a very messy and decidedly non-publishable journal of my prayers. Every so often I’ll go back and read them. As I’m reminded of my former troubles, I will also recall how the Lord helped and answered in those times. I try to make a point of scribbling in what exactly He did to answer.

 

Our family is currently going through some heavy times as a brother-in-law passed away suddenly from cancer and now my sister, who has been dealing with cancer for years, just was told by her doctor to “prepare for end of life.”

As the burden of new sorrows drags on my spirit, I remember going through sadness more than two decades ago after the death of my twin. I recall some years after her death that I looked back and felt I surely had been carried through the worst of my suffering – carried by people’s prayers and the Lord’s mysterious, deeply personalized, and real comfort.

 

Now, I slowly savour that memory nugget of God’s help in that time of deep heartache as I face this new season of sorrow. Although I know hard times are still ahead, I am nourished with a little more peace and strength than I had before.

 

What about you? How do you keep the memories of God’s past help alive? How do those memories sustain you now?

 

In our church service this past Sunday, part of the following passage was shared. I thought it fit so well with the topic of my post, that I had to add it:

Psalm 34:17-19 (NIV):

17The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
    he delivers them from all their troubles.
¹⁸ The Lord is close to the broken-hearted
    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
¹⁹ The righteous person may have many troubles,
    but the Lord delivers him from them all.

Michelle Strutzenberger and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series under her maiden Mennonite name, Michelle Teigrob. The series is called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the tips, visit this link and subscribe.

An Eternity of It? ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

I am eagerly awaiting the day we’ve been promised when Jesus’ righteousness will reign supreme and “quietness and confidence will fill the land forever” (Isaiah 32:17).

Even as I anticipate that time, I must admit, that part of me is surprised that the promised eternal reward is quietness.

I mean, what about singing? Parties? Whooping it up because Jesus is king?

Or does quietness in this context mean only the ceasing of certain noises?
Noise that grates?
That stirs fear?
That arouses anger?
That signals useless activity?

Will that eternal quietness be the kind in which peace can flow, creativity can flourish, and joy is alive?

Will we look around and see writers and artists, sculptors and music-makers producing as never before as the endless quiet allows for a kind of generative activity that empty noise often quells in this life?

Maybe we will still hear sounds, but will it be only those that soothe and settle, or lift up and awaken?
The rustle of the breeze in the cool trees, shush of long grasses, sprinkle of bird music, children laughing, people singing?
The warmth of peace in our own hearts?
The sigh of the whole Earth as it finally, finally redeemed (Romans 8:19-23)?

A few InScribe blogs have addressed the theme of quietness recently. Some may say it’s a coincidence. I wonder if it’s God working through each of us as writers and readers to remind us of this vital truth – quietness in Him matters – a lot. So much so, we can look forward to an eternity of it. So much so, that for now, here on this Earth, we need to keep hearing about it.

I encourage you to go back and read Carol Harrison’s, “Q is for Quiet Reflection,” Steph Beth Nickel’s “Illusive Quietness,” and Alan Anderson’s, “Q is for Quietude and Quietness.” Steph offers some encouraging thoughts on ways to help achieve physical, spiritual, and emotional quietness (you may be surprised by some of them.) Carol shares a compelling story about her experience with a moment of quiet reflection and how it drew her closer to the Lord. Alan writes beautifully on quietude as a friend.

As for my thoughts on making space for quiet in my life here I will just say one thing. It can help to have a “quietness buddy,” a person who shares the same view of the value of quietness that you do. Now, it is my daughter. She invites me to some of her places out in nature and encourages me to listen. I’ll do the same for her. When I was a teenager, it was my twin who was my quietness buddy. We used to challenge each other to remain silent for certain periods of time, mostly because we had been studying Scriptures that spoke of the value of silence (even while we understood that there is a time for speaking as well!).

Of course, the quietness that God calls us to do is about so much more than the ceasing of noise, as I already mentioned earlier. As quietness buddies, we might make two lists: Sounds that Grate, and Sounds that Lift Up. Then we can start a treasure hunt for the latter, a small way to start living in eternity now.

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series under her maiden Mennonite name, Michelle Teigrob. The series is called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the bi-weekly tips, visit this link and subscribe.

P is for Passwords ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

 

Would you rather your life be more like a password or poetry?

Passwords have become ubiquitous in this day, haven’t they?

We used to memorize poetry.

Now we burn up our brain power memorizing passwords. Or at least trying to remember where we wrote them down.

We’ve probably all experienced the “password checker.” Password checkers check the strength of our passwords. Of course, the longer and more nonsensical, the stronger they are.

Why do we need strong passwords? Well, to protect us from hackers. Hackers would like to get our money, identity, messages, and credit cards.

In our daily lives, there can be other types of hackers that steal something even more precious – our joy, our peace, our love.

I have found that the best protection against real life hackers is to put everything at Jesus’ feet.

I’ve found it especially helpful if I specifically name what is bothering me. I’ve come to adopt a practice of trying to understand what exactly it is that I’m facing and then giving it to Him. I’ll say, I put this burden at your feet. I give you this person that has hurt me. I lift up this anxiety I am struggling with.

Disorder and chaos have a way of making us feel powerless, don’t they?

I think that’s why I almost immediately start feeling better when I go to Jesus. First, I can trust He’s in control. Second, as I name my problems, they become less like a chaotic mess. They turn into order, something that can be dealt with, rather than a nameless, floating, whirling terror.

Maybe we need  to start taking back our lives from the chaotic power that passwords can be seen to represent.

Yes, I understand. They’re necessary. We can’t live without them.

But what if we intentionally find ways to fill our brains with more order and beauty than the nonsense of passwords?

For example, we could start learning poetry. (I know many of you already do that). I recently started memorizing some old poems with my teen daughter.

I know some of you already write poetry. That’s another way to say no to passwords.

We can name our struggles and put them at Jesus’ feet. Not just toss up a careless prayer. Show our deep trust in His very personalized, very loving interest in every one of our cares by naming them all, one by one, before Him.

I’d rather my life be more like poetry than a nonsensical password. What about you?

With Jesus’ presence and help, I know it can be – and will be fully so one day when we reach heaven’s gates.

And when we arrive at those gates, I’m quite sure we won’t be required to spout off some long, disordered selection of characters, numbers, and letters (including at least one capital) before the gates swing open for us.

No, I’m quite sure that on that day, it will be something much more like poetry, something close to, “Because He lives,” or “Jesus is my Saviour” that will be all it takes for eternity to open before us.

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series under her maiden Mennonite name, Michelle Teigrob. The series is called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the bi-weekly tips, visit this link and subscribe.

O is for Outhouses ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

 

Acrylic painting by Maria Strutzenberger 2023

As a daughter of missionary parents in Central America, I developed a far more intimate acquaintance with outhouses than I would have liked. Outhouses were the only mode of plumbing at our home, at school, the store, church, clinic, and the homes of friends and other family members.

So, I had to use one every single day.

For me, this was normal life.

But just because something has become “normal” in our lives, does mean we have to pretend it is good.

I sure did not enjoy my outhouse experiences.

Were they adventuresome?

Yes!

On every trip to one such tiny building, I would check for snakes, tarantulas, and any other creepy creatures lurking in the shadows. This was in Central America, remember.

At night, I would try to remember a flashlight. But sometimes one just wasn’t handy, and then the trip was extra fast and full of thrills as I hoped and prayed that this wouldn’t be my last visit to the toilet.

As a very young child, I constantly worried about falling through the hole into the horrible pile of mess below.

When we moved back to Canada when I was a preteen, I never for one moment missed those outhouses.

I have fond memories of the adventure and thrill they brought to my life with their dangers and grossness.

But I don’t wish to go back to them.

In this life, we have some “outhouses” that have become normal for us – death, pain, suffering, loss, separation, loneliness, emotional struggles. This list goes on.

But just because these experiences are "normal," we do not need to pretend they are good in and of themselves.

As a young adult Christian, I took verses like “Count it all joy when you face trials…,” found in James 1, and wove a twisted view that I needed to put on a mask with myself, God, and others when it came to my suffering. I felt I needed to pretend I wasn’t hurting and didn’t hate my pain.

With more experience and study of Scripture, I slowly untwisted that subtle lie. Of course, it is not the pain and sorrow we are called to celebrate. Instead, we can jump for joy and be glad because of the powerful and amazing work of Jesus in that trouble.

The following truths have become especially real and meaningful to me over the years as I’ve struggled through various trials. I understand now that I can be full of great glee and yell yippee, not because I’m having a hard time, because I know these truths are true:

1.         God is close to us in our suffering (Psalm 34:18).

2.         He helps us through it (2 Corinthians 12:9).

3.         He does not give us more than we can bear (1 Corinthians 10:13).

4.         He works it out for our good as we trust Him (Romans 8:28).

5.         The suffering has an end (1 Peter 5:10).

6.         Someday, all suffering will be permanently finished (Revelation 21:4). Hallelujah.

In my years since living in Central America, I’ve encountered a few nicer outhouses than the ones I used as a child. Some sport fresh paint, pretty curtains, scented candles, and even plastic toilet seats. But no matter how much is done to “enhance” their appearance and smell, I will never ever be able to view them as anything but stinky, yucky containers of waste.

I now intentionally try to be honest about my pain and suffering. When I hurt, I talk to God about how much it hurts, how I don’t like it, and how I want it to end. I also have some close friends that I can trust to remove my mask with. In both cases, I first need to be honest with myself.

But realness alone is not enough, of course. I allow myself to be honest, but I quickly follow that with an intentional “note-to-self” about the truths Jesus has given us.

Similarly, when I write as a Christian, I hope to always be real, both about the awfulness of the struggle, and how Jesus helps me in that struggle.

I like the Psalmist David’s approach to his trouble, as shown in the following verse: First, he names the state of his spirit. He doesn’t sugarcoat how he is feeling. He is real. But then he intentionally adds some spirit-boosting self-talk, followed by a deliberate choice to praise God even in his depressed state. Psalm 42:11 “Why are you so downcast, o my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Saviour and My God” (NIV). 

Outhouses may be necessary, but they simply are not -- and will never be -- the Taj Mahal.

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series under her maiden Mennonite name, Michelle Teigrob. The series is called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the bi-weekly tips, visit this link and subscribe.

 

 

N is for the Next Moment ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

The instantaneous death of my twin sister in a car accident years ago seared my mind with an awareness of how quickly life can be over.

In my days of fresh grief, this awareness led to me make unhealthy choices as I struggled to learn how to live without the one person I’d spent mostly every waking moment with since we were born.

Over the years, I have come to a place where my alertness to life’s brevity ignites a flaming desire in me to do whatever I can to make the most of my remaining time on this earth.

Redeeming the Time

I remind myself often of the verses Ephesians 5:15-16: “See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil (NKJV).”

Other translations of the Bible present the phrase “redeeming the time” as “making the most of every opportunity” (NIV, NLT) or “making the best use of time” (ESV). These phrases can help with understanding, but redeeming has a unique nuance that I love.

To redeem means to “buy back,” to “get back,” to “free from what distresses or harms.”

How can I live in such a way as to free the time I have left on this earth from what distresses or harms? How can I do this for myself? And how can I do it for others?

Freeing the Next Moment from Distress

Now, as great of a question as this is, it can be rather overwhelming, especially if one is in a state of emotional anguish, whether from grief or some other trouble.

It has helped me to bring the question back to just focusing on the next moment. How can I free my next moment from what distresses or harms? Is there someone I need to text and apologize to? Do I need to stop by and say hello to a neighbour? To whom might I write a letter or email of comfort or encouragement?

Just a Few Written Words

These small actions may also include creative writing. A Lectio 365 devotional shared the story of a verse in a hymn written by an African teacher Enoch Sontonga, who died suddenly at the age of 32. This verse, the first lines of which are, “God bless Africa; May her strength rise high up,” went on to be included in anthems of several countries across the African continent, at least for a time, and today it is embedded in South Africa’s national anthem. “Do I underestimate what God might create out of the ordinary things I do?” the Lectio writer, Carla Harding, reflects.

Asking for Help

But even when reining it back to the next small moment, we may still feel a sense of overwhelm about how to make the most of our time. Even if we’re talking about small actions and choices, we might be stressed about where exactly to focus our energy. There are so many needs and options! Over time and experience, I have learned that the very best way to go about handling this question is to ask the Holy Spirit for guidance. Today, I constantly seek His help in knowing who to reach out to, where to give, how to encourage, what to write, again, how to redeem my time – today, now, in the next moment.

I have found so much more peace and so much less stress when I do both of these things – focus on just the next moment and ask the Holy Spirit to guide me as I take another small step towards eternity.

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently sharing a series called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To read the series, visit this link.

M is for Morsel ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

 

Do you remember what you ate for breakfast two Thursdays ago?

Whether you do or not doesn’t really matter, does it?

The point is, you can trust that that breakfast, that morsel, whatever it was, nourished you for that time.

Scripture

Just as we regularly eat for present physical nourishment, we read the Bible regularly for present spiritual nourishment.

We may not remember our devotions from two Thursdays ago, but we can trust those readings, those morsels, nourished our spirit for that time.

My pastor deserves the credit for this “food/devotional-as-nourishment-for-our-present-time” point.

I thought it could be called the “morsel principle.”

Writing

I’d like to suggest this same principle can be applied to our work as Christian writers – perhaps more so today than ever before.

A few years ago, and for decades before that, the publishing industry essentially meant the production of printed works that readers might come to count as “treasures.” They might buy, read, reread, collect, save, and eventually pass on, these tangible artifacts.

Today, however, the reading habits of many don’t involve printed works as much as they used to. Instead, readers spend more time online following blogs (like this one), subscribing to e-publications, and liking/commenting on social media posts. (According to a report from Publishers Weekly, print book sales fell 2.6% in 2023)1.   

I’m not sure how other writers feel about this, but I’ve struggled with wondering about the worth of my work when it is something that is “consumed” online.

I long for the olden days, when printed works were “treasures” bought, read, put on shelves, reread, collected, and passed on.

Yet, if we think of “morsel” principle, perhaps we can be encouraged. Maybe nobody will remember or “treasure” our works as printed artifacts. However, if we are trusting the Lord to lead our writing, then we can trust that He will use our work, however it is published, to nourish someone in one of their present moments.

We can pray over every piece we post, whether in blog form, on social media, via e-news, or some other way, “Lord, use these words for someone’s nourishment today.”

Then, even if they don’t remember it later, we can be encouraged that our written words, dedicated to Jesus’ service, may be a “morsel” for someone’s present moment.

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently sharing a series called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To read the series, send an email to awakehopetoday@gmail.com.

1.      Milliot, J. (Jan. 5, 2024). Print book sales fell 2.6% in 2023. Publishers Weekly. https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/financial-reporting/article/94037-print-book-sales-fell-2-6-in-2023.html

L is for LMK ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

How much do you pepper your social media posts and text messages with emojis and acronyms such as LOL and LMK?

Do you believe a day will come when such symbols and text forms will slither into other types of writing? Will longer-form, less transient pieces, such as academic papers, news articles, blogs, and books one day be speckled with emojis and internet slang?

If that day does come, will it be a happy one for you? Or will it be as though a cloud has darkened the sun?

Love and Hate

I admit to having a love hate relationship with the use of emojis and acronyms in my text messages to family and friends.

Emojis, for me, equal simplified pictures. Pictures, as they say, can be worth a thousand words. So, I love scouring for just the right emoji to convey certain feelings.

On the other hand, I squirm at using acronyms. For me, they reek of sloppiness and border on emitting a lack of love for the people I care about. Acronyms such as NM or WU shout, “I’m too busy for you to even take the time to spell out a full word.”

This is the line of reasoning I’ve taken, though I understand it may not necessarily be fully logical and/or the rationale everyone ought to subscribe to.

Averse and Open

As for whether I think these forms will and should eventually dot our other written works, the jury is still out for me. I waffle between aversion and a desire to be open minded.

I recently gave in to temptation and inserted a tiny emoji in of my blogs. The smiley emoji seemed to fit the context of my article so perfectly that I just had to include it, but I also felt strangely ashamed for giving in. I couldn’t help feeling as though I’d let my writing standards slip just a bit with this concession.

On the other hand, however, I understand that living languages evolve. They always have. We no longer use many of the words that snaked through the works of, for instance, Geoffrey Chaucer, which sits on my shelf. Here’s just one of the sentences from his book, The Canterbury Tales: “My thinketh it acordaunt to resoun, to telle yow al the condicioun…” (p. F2).

So, while my first reaction is one of aversion, I am also not ready to completely shut the gates to these “new” forms of communication in our longer, less transient writings.

All this to say that I’m still not sure what I’ll do should I, some day in the future, open an academic journal and find it crawling with emojis and internet slang.

Will I shriek and slam the journal shut in horror, as if I’ve just made a discovery of a cockroach nest?

Or, will I widen my eyes in delight, as I welcome these “insects” like a new source of literary protein?

Your Thoughts?

BTW, what do you think?

Would you say NBD and IDC if emojis and internet slang someday sneak into all forms of writing?

Or, would you 😲?

What about the Bible? Should we have an emoji and acronym-filled translation of the Bible? You may be aware that one already exists. (To learn more, click this link: https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2016/may/30/emoji-bible-arrived-god-king-james).

LMK what you think 😊.

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently sharing a series called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival.

 

 

 

 

K is for Stillness by Michelle Strutzenberger

 

Photo by my son, Micah Strutzenberger (2022).

As a member of the alphabet that occasionally “keeps it mouth shut,” so to speak, the letter K reminds us that sometimes it is better to choose stillness.

Several Bible verses support this choice. Psalm 46:10 is just one. “Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in the earth.”

How can stillness lead to a knowledge of God? And then, by extension, to an exaltation of Him?

The most basic definition of stillness is the absence of movement or sound.

If we are seeking to be still in order to know that God is God, we may need to pause from our chores, socializing, exercise, and entertaining.

We might sink onto the sofa with a cup of hot tea and warm blanket. Or we might head out into the countryside for a stride down gravel roads (I realize this involves movement, but wouldn’t you agree that, if done in the right spirit, walking can allow for stillness in our minds?).

As we cease from productivity, we might ask ourselves some questions. Here are just a few that have come to me as I’ve been reflecting on this passage. You will notice these questions are very much linked to my personal experience of God’s goodness. I, of course, do not believe this is always the best way to answer a question about who God is. The best thing we can do is point to Scripture. But sometimes we need the very personal, very individualized reminder of how God has been, and is, and will be at work in our lives:

1.  What specific thing has God done in my life in the past that shows He is worthy of being exalted? I could write a bunch here, but, just briefly, I am reminded of how He carried me through grief after the death of my twin when we were 21. Even today, I am humbly mystified as to how I coped at all with her death, and so can only say it was Him. In ways I cannot fully explain to this day, He helped me through those months and years of anguish.

2.  What specific thing is God doing now in my life that shows He is worthy of being exalted? He keeps rescuing me from myself as I struggle to cope with a painful family problem. I want to escape the pain – run away, numb it, find someone to blame and lash out. And sometimes I do fall into those wrong, destructive responses, until I realize they’re only making things worse, and I cry out to Him. Of course, He always helps – from sending someone to encourage me to giving me the mysterious gift of peace to clearly showing me a small next step. I just need to remember to ask Him for help first, rather than turning to all my rotten alternatives.

3   What specific thing could God do in my life in the future that would show He is worthy of being exalted? Well, of course, none of us knows the future. But one thing I can count on is that He will carry me across this current sea of pain to the other shore. I can trust that this current sea is not a universe. Someday this pain will end. There will be reprieve. Yes, I may face more seas of pain in my life. But I can rest in knowing that for each one, He will be there. He will help me across -- until I finally wade onto the final shore of glorious eternity with Him.

The next time you run across a silent “K,” maybe consider, “Have I taken time lately for the kind of stillness that leads me to exalt God ?”

I hope this encourages you today in some small way, dear fellow writers of the faith.

Blessings

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently sharing a series called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival.

 

‘J’ is for Genius ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

When her older brother teasingly asked my seven-year-old daughter how she could possibly know some fact she had just proclaimed, Megan flicked her hair expertly over one shoulder and confidently retorted, “Because my middle initial is j – j for genius.”

Over guffaws of laughter from her brother and between my own bursts of chuckling, I corrected her spelling. A grin split her face as she finally understood the irony of the statement she had just made.

For me, writing has been one of the most humbling facets of my life. I have cringed through not just one or a few but many instances of rejection, judgement, correction, insinuation, inscrutable silence, and my own slicing awareness. It seems nearly every time I pick up a pen or click on my computer, something happens to remind me that I am certainly not the cat’s meow when it comes to my writing endeavours.

I have presented different responses to that humbling: Grit-teethed determination to “just keep on;” bewilderment; pain; discouragement; near despair (when I decided I would symbolically bury the corpse of my writing dream and never return to it again. Obviously, I dug said corpse up again.)

But I hope my responses are becoming more consistently like the one my daughter gave to the correction about her “jenius” remark. Sheepishly grinning in realization as I sincerely consider what I need to change, I then bravely take another step forward – until the next time.

 

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently sharing a series called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival.

I is for Illiterate ~ by Michelle Strutzenberger

Imagine if, as you stared at this page on your computer screen, all meaning in the letters leaked away. The page had slowly mutated into a design of random dots and circles, curls and twisted stems.

Throughout my time of teaching English as a Second Language to adults, I’ve met several people who never learned to read and write in their first language. As they begin to master a new language, we also teach them how to decode letters for the very first time in their lives.

I’ll never forget Latifa, a delicate-boned Afghani woman, with kohl-lined eyes, and a soft, high-pitched voice. She came to us at the age of 60, never having read or written in her first language. Most days, she arrived in class with a faint herbal-citrus scent wisping from the sprig of basil she held in her tiny hand. After months of working with her, one day I realized she was picking out her name from among a choice of words I had printed on small slips of paper. Slowly, she scanned the dots and circles, curls, and stems. A small up-curve to her lips and glint in her eyes were all that hinted at her self-satisfaction as her finger pressed on her name again and again.

My spirit sprayed happiness that I had been able to help her discover the mystery of some of those printed dots and stems.

I don’t know why God allowed this Middle Eastern woman to be born where she was, unable to learn to read and write until she reached her 60s. I don’t understand why I received the blessing and privilege of growing up in a home and place where I was taught to decode letters as a young child.

But maybe God brought Latifa to me when He did to allow each of us to give one another a gift. I have been able to teach her to read. And she has illuminated a valuable detail about the gift of writing – that sometimes the very smallest manifestation of that gift, like the spelling out of someone’s precious name, can be just as meaningful in a person’s life as the most eloquent book in someone else’s context.

I have always leaned towards the view that God most delights in the latter types of written works – many-paged, beautiful, bestselling, “viral” on social media.

I need the reminder on occasion that He can make “masterpieces” - works that help to change people’s lives for the better – of the teeniest things.

My experience with Latifa has inspired me to wonder about the potential in other types of “mini masterpieces.” I’ve started a list of what these masterpieces might look like:

1. Story bookmarks. What if the cardboard that marks our book pages is the actual conveyor of a full, albeit very short, story?
2. Story business cards. What if we pass out our stories full and complete on small business cards?
3. Story labels. For those of us with other hobbies, such as cooking or crafting, what if we include a story on our creations? For example, a jar of our homemade jam could be shared complete with a label inscribed with our latest story.

This InScribe writer’s group is so very creative and thoughtful, I’m wondering if people might wish to share other related ideas they’ve experimented with or plan to try.

Michelle is an instructor and Braillist. She and her family enjoy hiking trails and mountains. She recently launched the series, "What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival." To learn more, visit awakehope.ca.

F is for Finances: Becoming Prosperous as a Christian Writer by Michelle Strutzenberger

Have you ever felt discouraged over your level of prosperity as a Christian writer?

Perhaps you’ve made peace with the likelihood that you may never achieve a great financial return from your craft. One stat says writers in general, never mind those of the Christian faith, make an annual average of $3,000. 

Your writing income may lie close to that average. Or you may be one of the outliers. But, regardless, as a person of the Christian faith, you may have found a way to make peace with your financial return or lack thereof.

Perhaps you have also made peace with where your social media numbers stand. You’ve realized they are a metric that tells you something about the stickiness of your writing, but you know they aren’t the whole story. Sure, you’d jump for joy to see the numbers of follows, likes, and shares, popping, and you work hard to make that happen. But you wisely understand that the numerals on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram etc. can only say so much about whether your work is making a difference or not.

Maybe you have also come to trust that even though you don’t hear from every reader who is blessed, encouraged, changed, and helped by your writing, that doesn’t mean your writing isn’t blessing, encouraging, changing, and helping. You have learned to just keep writing, regardless of the feedback. You may one of those who trust that someday, when God reveals all our work as silver or straw, you will find out more about how your solitary sweating over sentences was used by God for His glory and the blessing of others.

Although I still walk into discouragement fogs as a writer, I can honestly say I’ve reached a place of peace about my financial return, social media metrics, and amount of feedback from readers. None of these metrics match my youthful dreams or adult expectations, but I’ve learned to accept them for the most part, even while I keep trying to improve them.

Still, I must confess that the outcome so far of my passion and hard work as a writer bewilders me a bit. The truth of the matter is that by all accounts, my work as a writer has not been prosperous! In fact, the best outcome I can see is that I’ve been able to make peace with my lack of prosperity!

That peace makes me happy, of course – and yet, and yet, there is a twist in the belly.

Since I was 12 years old, the burning to write, which I believe is a God-given passion, has ignited all kinds of written work. As a youth, teachers praised my writing talent. I’ve worked diligently to make the most of that gift, earnestly seeking to avoid being the terrible servant in Jesus’ parable who “buries” what God has given them. I’ve prayed earnestly over every piece of writing, including while working for 15 years as a secular journalist. Since leaving that work and recently launching a Christian writing ministry, I constantly seek God’s direction in what to write and then for His anointing as I write. 

Yet, like a hangnail, the bewilderment nags at my peace. Is there some other reason for my lack of prosperity? Doubtful thoughts that have wormed into my mind for years never leave entirely: Maybe this drive really isn’t from God. Maybe the people who told me I had talent were just being super kind. Maybe I’m one of those pitiful, blind-to-self folks who can’t see that they’re beating a dead horse and just need to stop. 

Or, what if I am being prosperous as a Christian writer?

What if you are being prosperous as a Christian writer?

A soul-refreshing, spirit-lightening a-ha came to me this week. 

I’m excited to share in my next post how a friend’s reflection on a Bible passage helped me rethink what it means to be prosperous as a Christian writer – beyond just making peace with a lack of prosperity.

About Michelle Strutzenberger: Michelle is an instructor and Braillist. She and her family enjoy hiking trails and mountains. More of her work can be read at awakehope.ca.