I just got home from the She Speaks writers’ conference, and it was an incredible experience. More on that later, I wanted to say a quick word about Lysa Terkeurst. 

I did not come to this conference as a fan girl of Lysa Terkeurst. I had never read any of her books. (I know, how have I missed all of this? There are like a ton that have been bestsellers. I think I’ve been hiding under a mountain of diapers.) Before the conference, I figured I should at least read one of her books so I picked up Unglued at a garage sale for 50 cents. I got halfway through, without being really sucked in. (I hope she never reads this.) I didn’t really understand the hype. 

I also wondered about how she would handle her recent marital struggles in the public eye. How does a Christian woman deal with extreme personal wounds at the hands of another that are so deep and raw in a very public ministry without revealing the bitterness she must be experiencing? I was wondering as a writer, how does one write a book on Christian living when the Christian life is suddenly so difficult?

At the conference I was able to hear Lysa speak several times as well as sit in on her teaching method of how to write stories that change people’s lives. And let me tell you, I have a different opinion about Lysa now. At every turn I was amazed by her dedication to women, to ministry, to writers, and to me. But none of that is what impressed me most. What left me with so much respect for Lysa, was the message she gave in her final session. It was on forgiveness. In case you don’t know the story, Lysa and her husband recently renewed their vows after working through his infidelity. If anyone has had to face the challenging journey to forgiveness, it is Lysa.

She could have spoken about forgiveness with an underlying bitterness that tried to rally people to her side, and it would have been justified in the eyes of many, but she didn’t. She could have talked about forgiveness with a certain level of pride for having been able to overlook the wrongs against her, but she didn’t. She could have She could have used certain passages in the Bible to justify walking away from the relationship rather than fight for it, but she didn’t. 

Instead, she approached the topic with humility, with vulnerability, with scars showing, but without implicating the source. She spoke about her fight with God, the lessons that she was learning the hard way, and the ways that she herself needed forgiveness. She praised her husband for his strengths. She took the stance of a work in progress. She embraced God’s grace and sovereignty as the source of her hope for continued progress and restoration. She presented truth with the maturity of a peacemaker. She used her mess to create a message, delicately balancing the reality of pain with the possibility for healing. And it was so powerful.

Lysa knows the extent of her audience. She knows that the gravity of her words are a matter of spiritual life and death. She knows that this topic, in particular, is a battlefield for the kingdom of God.

What if we approached the use of our words with the same gravity? What if we acknowledged that our stories have the same power of spiritual life and death? 

We don’t all write stories, but we all have stories, and we all share our stories with others. Whether it is a quick phone call to a family member, a conversation over a cup of coffee with a friend, or a social media post to the masses, we constantly use our everyday experiences to relate with one another. 

What if we decided to approach sharing our stories with the same careful consideration of Lysa. What if we truly understood the repercussions of sharing our mess before it has become our message? What if we stopped hiding our attempts to justify ourselves behind words like “venting,” “letting off a little steam,” “getting it off my chest,” or even “sharing a prayer request”?

We live in a world seeking followers. We have all seen the social media battles waged to sway people to one political idea, product line, or popular opinion. But here is the reality, friends: when we fight for righteousness and peace in the words that we use, even if it is only in our everyday conversations, people will be drawn to the authenticity. We won’t have to fight to justify ourselves or convince people that we speak truth, because our God will fight for us! 

We all have mess in our lives, because we live in a fallen world. By the grace of God and His faithfulness, our messes can be redeemed and become our messages. And these messages are powerful! The enemy would like nothing more than to erase them or cheapen them by letting just a little pride or a little bitterness trace their way through. The key to sharing our message is waiting for the right time, when our hearts are in humble submission to the Creator and Redeemer of our stories.

And so my prayer for us this morning is this: as we go about sprinkling our words on the parched earth around us, let our message come from pure hearts so that it can satisfy the thirst for truth. Let our mess be transformed into a message that brings hope and healing. Father, let the meditations of our hearts and the words of our mouths be pleasing to you!