To continue explaining how walking away from social media drastically changed me, I have to do the opposite of making an IG-worthy post about the good and beautiful, and pull you through the screen to share the ugly reality of my heart. No pressure to like, comment, or share this one. 

The negative impact of social media had been increasingly destroying my heart and mind and far outweighed anything good I was giving or receiving through it. So I pulled the plug. Or more accurately—I deactivated, deleted, and disappeared. 

And I’ve never been more joyful or more at peace. I felt a heavy burden lift off of me that I didn’t even know was there until it was gone. I felt lighter. It was as if someone had cut off shackles, and I was finally free to run. To really live. Not behind a screen, but experiencing reality right in front of me each day.

I began to live out the real “me”—the one that God created me to be. Not a “me” that was trying to please, promote, keep up, and share, all the while rating how I was doing in life compared to everyone else. 

I had the honor of being the guest speaker at a hospital's graveside memorial service for families who have experienced child loss. The hospital is dear to me, because it is where I delivered Seth and Roi. It is not easy to speak to a group of hurting families, but I have found the tension of joy and grief through it—being able to use my own story of death to point others to the hope in Jesus Christ. 

The following is my speech. If you have not experienced the loss of a child, I encourage you not to pass over, because my message is also for the loved ones of grieving families.

It’s one thing to shout judgment from behind a screen, or a social media post, or a news report. We demand judgment for those who deserve it; we shout justice for those who’ve been wrongly judged. 

But then the news, the nameless person, the emotionally embellished post fades away and becomes a real, made-in-the-image-of-God human. You aren’t glaring in anger at a blue-lit screen; you’re looking into the eyes of a man sweating, apologizing profusely, and shaking in his rain boots that slipped off the brake to cause the accident.

There’s no more trying. No more controlling. No need to be enough or prove myself. I hold on to the Ram who has already done it for me—once and for all.

The Spirit speaks through His Creation surrounding me at Arches National Park in Utah.

“Be yourself” can never truly be, for we are all mere phantoms—shadows and reflections of something, or someone, else. The question is: of what? 

That Hebrew word for “vain shew” comes down to “image.” Every human is a walking image.

This year on my birthday, I woke up with a new resolve….

I go back to dusting. You know, as if I didn’t just go to war. Why strive to be She-Hulk or Wonder Woman? We can fight to be warrior helpmates with a dust rag in one hand and the Sword in the other, shielding our husbands and children from the enemy’s attacks.

The Spirit had given me spiritual eyes to see in that moment. I reach out my hand, place it on her, and begin to pray. I didn’t have any magical words. I stumble through it, rambling a bit here and there, but trusting that the Lord is hearing my prayer. I pray for healing. I reiterate what the Spirit had just spoken to me. I rebuke any evil spirit of sickness in the name of Jesus to leave. I declare that she’s a daughter of the King, washed in His blood, and none of his enemies can touch her. I finish with praising Him for who He is and what He will do…