Book Giveaway:
Deanna is offering one copy of FRUIT OF MY SPIRIT to one randomly chosen commenter. The winner will be announced on Friday, January 18th between 5-6 PM EST. For convenience, please leave your email address within the body of the comment. Thanks!
Deanna is offering one copy of FRUIT OF MY SPIRIT to one randomly chosen commenter. The winner will be announced on Friday, January 18th between 5-6 PM EST. For convenience, please leave your email address within the body of the comment. Thanks!
The opening of Deanna's book :
Fruit of My Spirit: Reframing Life in God’s Grace
by Deanna Nowadnick
I’m
a mess. The highlights in my hair hide a pre-gray drab. One hip and one knee
have been replaced and another knee should be. I’m overweight and under the
illusion that I’m going to wake up one morning to a younger, skinnier self. On good days I whine and complain. On bad days I whine and complain more. I’m
impatient whenever life has the audacity to thwart my plans. I get frustrated
whenever life presents a detour or a hurdle. At one point I planned to live to
125. When I remembered that the Bible says Moses only lived to 120, I decided
on 119. I can’t imagine God needing me around longer than Moses.
Life
has its challenges. Life is a challenge. I know my existence is about more than
this body. I know it’s not about gray hair, failing body parts, and excess
pounds. I know the important stuff’s on the inside, but honestly, I’m not so
sure that the inside stuff’s any prettier. Perhaps I’ve been expecting God to
act as my own fairy godmother, ready to pop into the scene any moment now with
a twinkle in His eye and a wand in His hand. I’ve been waiting to be tapped
ever so gently on the forehead and magically transformed into a loving, joyous,
peaceful, patient, kind, good, faithful, gentle, self-controlled delight in His
life, adorned in a nice white ensemble, cute shoes, and fresh nail polish. In
thinking that, I’ve not only trivialized God’s love and forgiveness, but I’ve
missed the magnitude of His mercy that’s been shared with me over and over
again. I’ve overlooked the fruit of His Holy Spirit that’s already a part of my
own spirit in all that I do and all that I am.
So
now what? Filled with His Holy Spirit, do I step back from life as I’ve known
it? Do I need to tiptoe around the messiness of each day, avoiding the dirt and
grime of my daily existence? If not wearing a white ensemble, something
off-white? With His fruit, will I have this new aura about me that parts the
seas and calms the storm within?
From
an early age, I’ve been told that I am a child of God. I was brought up in the
church. I went to Sunday School and Vacation Bible
School. I attended youth group. In high school and college I worked part-time
in the church office. I was active as a child, as a young person, and as an
adult. That being said, I’ve still wondered at times about my place in God’s
family and God’s place in mine. When the lights are turned out and I’ve left
the church building, is there really a spot in God’s heart for a defiant child?
In His divine plans for a self-centered teenager? In His family for an adult
who gets tired, impatient, frustrated, and distracted? Just having to ask tells
me that I’ve truly failed to grasp the enormity of God’s love and mercy. And
today, I stumble through life trying to understand a gift that has no measure,
picking myself up, only to trip on the very next hurdle. Bumped and bruised
I’ve failed to see God’s incredible ability to make the best out of the worst,
the most out of the least, using forgotten moments, selfish intentions, and
regrettable mistakes all for His glory.
I
think I have a pretty good understanding of God’s gift of unmerited love and
complete forgiveness, intellectually. Like any good Sunday School student, I
could put together a well-worded essay on the tenets of faith; my head’s got
it. But my heart’s not so sure. I realize now that I’ve rested in my intellect
without finding comfort for my soul. I’ve reacted to life with the frustrations
of a child, the hurts of a teen, and the failings of an adult. I have buckled
under the weight of God’s law and found it harder and harder to stand tall in
the light of His love and grace. I’ve let my own plans and ambitions trump
God’s will for me in my life. I’ve ignored His blessings, focusing instead on
life’s challenges, and let the what-ifs consume my thoughts and energy. And now
wrongdoings and shortcomings, imperfections and transgressions have become stone tablets
amounting to fifty-six pounds of excess weight.
So
here’s where I find myself: I’m sitting in church on Sunday morning. We’ve just
sung a couple uplifting songs of welcome. Next is the Confession of Sins (for
all those wrongdoings, shortcomings, imperfections, and transgressions):
Most merciful God, we
confess that we are by nature sinful and unclean. We have sinned against You in
thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved You with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as
ourselves. We justly deserve Your present and eternal punishment. For the sake
of Your Son, Jesus Christ, have mercy on us. Forgive us, renew us, and lead us,
so that we may delight in Your will and walk in Your ways to the glory of Your
holy name. Amen.
Some
Sundays we’re more blunt: “I, a poor miserable sinner, confess unto Thee that I
am by nature sinful and unclean.” And with those words, I’m left in a poor,
miserable place with no room to hide behind the collective voice of the
congregation. God has offered me errors and omissions insurance and I’m still
opting to fight my own battles in court—day after day after day. I’ve not only
returned His gift of forgiveness unopened, but I’ve left him waiting in the
foyer of my life as I linger endlessly at the pity party for innumerable
mistakes. God’s patience has been undeniable and completely undeserved. He has
waited when I couldn’t be bothered, when I was determined to go it alone, when
I had a “better” idea, an easier solution. As the failures amassed and life’s
struggles accumulated, He remained faithful, loving, and caring for me, guiding
and pushing me.
By
focusing on the trials of this life, I’ve overlooked the forgiveness that comes
immediately after my confession in the pew. I’ve missed the harvest that
springs forth from seeds of grace. And in doing so, I’ve missed the fruit of
God’s Spirit described so eloquently in Paul’s letter to the people of Galatia,
a letter written in part to help new Christians who had lived under Old
Testament law move forward in New Testament grace. He passionately encouraged
them to live by the Spirit and to share in the fruit of the Spirit:
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy,
peace, patience, kindness, goodness,
faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
Against such there is no law.
Galatians 5:22–23
With
Paul’s encouragement and God’s blessing, I want to reframe my own life in God’s
love and grace. I want to take the memories, those pictures that have been
hanging on the walls of my heart, and reframe them. I want to replace broken
glass, bad matting, and damaged wood.
Together with God, I want to redo each photo, this time concentrating on the
beauty of each remembrance, this time surrounded by a frame of love and
forgiveness. Through it all I want to focus on the hugeness of God’s
faithfulness. There won’t be a tap on my forehead; there will be no magical
moments. This is real life, not a cartoon re-creation. God’s holding my hand,
not a wand. He’s really there; He has been all along. He has loved me without
hesitation every day, every moment, through the best and the worst. I’ve truly
been a part of His most glorious plan and most wonderful purpose. The Divine
Master has been using my life and my missteps in the creation of a beautiful masterpiece,
a blessed work of art colored with love and hope, highlighted with mercy and
joy, and signed by the Almighty Himself, my Lord, my Savior.
As
I go forth with God, my efforts to reframe life’s experiences are not just
redecorating projects; they’re an opportunity to look back and see His love and
forgiveness, to recognize the fruit of His Holy Spirit in my life. More
importantly, they’re the chance to see a bigger purpose, something that’s been
easy to overlook. God created me in His image. I was blessed to be a blessing.
God picked me for a special purpose—one that would require the talents and
experiences of a middle-aged woman, someone who had known both joy and
heartache, someone who had lived life to its fullest, yet also known the regret
and sorrow of a wasted moment and a neglected opportunity. He wanted my
strengths and my weaknesses, my quirks and my flaws, my loves, my passions, and
even my ditziness.
I’m
not a child of God because people told me so; I’m His child because He made me
so. He has loved and cared for me without fail through the best of times and
during the most trying. When the lights were turned out and I left the church
building, He left with me. And as part of His family, my growth in Him brought
forth the fruit of my own spirit, imperfect, a little blemished, but delicious,
sealed in His grace, fruit that has been a part of all that I do and all that I
am. And now I look back with patience and understanding and look ahead with
hope and joy. More importantly, I pause in gratitude for a God who was willing
to include me in His unique and blessed plans for yesterday, today, and
tomorrow.
And
so I pray:
May the
God of hope fill me with all joy and peace as I trust in him,
so that I
may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Romans 13:13
With
God, it can be so. Today I plan for the harvest by planting seeds of hope and
promise, wisdom and insight. Together with my Lord and Savior, I look back at
life’s struggles with new eyes, recognizing the work of the Holy Spirit in ways
never before imagined or acknowledged. Those battered frames really do surround
pictures of inestimable worth.
So,
as the old hymn proclaims, “This is my story, this is my song!”
Let There Be Peace on Earth by Deanna
Nowadnick
I found
myself without words. Hearing of the tragedy in Connecticut, my heart broke. Actually,
my heart didn’t just break, it shattered. In the fraction of a second the love,
joy, peace, and hope of the Advent season crumbled as the mother in me cried at
the deaths of 26 babies, the teacher in me froze as the horrific events of an
elementary school were shared in excruciating details.
Who,
God? Who could do such a thing? Who could find himself so separated from
society that life itself had lost all value and meaning?
What,
God? What really happened that Friday? What caused one man to succumb to an
evil plan of destruction?
Where,
God? Where are You? Where is Your love, joy, peace, and hope in the midst of such
overwhelming grief and undeniable pain and suffering?
When,
God? When will it get better? When will we be able to find comfort and joy in a
world broken by sin?
How,
God? How do we make sense of it all? How do we give meaning to an event that is
beyond comprehension?
I
shudder at the impact of sin. I shudder knowing that evil is real. I shudder
remembering that it started with a whisper in the garden, words of temptation
that became an act of disobedience. That story was followed by another: a
son’s anger became a deadly act of hatred.
I ache
for answers. I ache to know what God would say to so many questions, those asked
aloud and those I can’t put into words.
And now
I pray. I pray that God might use me, might use us, to share love, to bring
joy, to offer peace, and to promote hope in a world that is broken, in a world
that is crying for justice and compassion.
Ann
Curry, NBC News Correspondent, proposed 26 acts of kindness (#26acts) in
response to her own question, “What can I do?” She wondered what we could do if
we all committed 26 acts of kindness to honor the lost children and heroic
teachers of Newton, CT.
As a
Christian trying to follow God’s call this day, I wonder about taking Ann’s
challenge one step further. What if we commit to 26 acts of kindness and one
act of love, not the easy act of love, but the hard one? What if we each find a
way to bridge a misunderstanding, to open a door slammed in anger, to find that
moment of peace when every part of our being wants to shake in rage and
frustration?
I’m not naïve enough to believe that a single act of love will overcome evil in the world, but I am challenged to find a way to make a difference, however small.
“Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.”
Sy Miller and Jill Jackson
Jill Jackson yearned for peace, too. After living through wars and fears of nuclear bombs, after learning of families torn apart by conflicts, she believed the words to her song came through her and not from her. May it be so for us
all!
Author
Bio:
Deanna Nowadnick is a Pacific Northwest native and
debut author. Fruit of My Spirit
began as a love story to her sons. She just wanted them to know how she met
their father. One chapter quickly became many chapters. One day, she said to
anyone who’d listen, “I think I wrote a book.”
When not writing, Deanna serves as Client Service
Coordinator for The Planner’s Edge, a financial advisory firm. Deanna is active
in her church, playing the violin and editing the monthly newsletter. She loves
to knit, adores chocolate, and most importantly, enjoys a blessed marriage to
Kurt. They are the proud parents of two adult sons, Kyle and Kevin.
Deanna is currently working on Book 2. Signs in Life: Standing with God at the
Corner of Grace and Mercy tells of those times when
God has come alongside and guided, directed and turned her.
Links to find Deanna:
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Links to find Deanna:
Website
