Meeting My Hero: Elisabeth Elliot

After my freshman year in college, I went to England for seven weeks through a study abroad program. Our first week during the trip was spent in London, and on Sunday most of us went to a small church that one of our professors recommended. It was a church built out of grey stone, cool on the inside and airy.

Meeting Elisabeth Elliot-Grace Unfolded

During the service, the pastor announced that they had a guest speaker present, an American woman who would be sharing her testimony with the congregation. She had been a missionary for many years, he noted, and she had lost her first husband as a result of such missionary work. The woman he was introducing was Elisabeth Elliot.

I nearly fell out of the pew. During my first year in college, Elisabeth Elliot had become a literary mentor to me through her book Passion and Purity. I read about her life with fascination and awe, as well as with a sense of closeness—years before, she had been a student at the college I was attending, and while I read the book I sat in some of of the same places she described within her pages.

This book challenged and touched me for many reasons, one of which was that it is a book about Elisabeth’s love story with Jim Elliot, how the two fell in love and then surrendered this love to the Lord for five years until they were married. There were months when the two could not communicate, years when they only saw one another for a few days at a time. Their story of God’s provision and their commitment to purity is truly incredible; their love is the stuff of fairy tales.

Elisabeth’s life, however, has not been a fairy tale. Less that two and a half years after their marriage in 1953, Jim and four other men went to share the Gospel with the Auca people, a native tribe in Ecuador. All five men were speared to death, and Elisabeth was left as a single mother. Instead of folding into herself, however, Elisabeth soon took her young daughter and went back to the jungle, back to the same Auca tribe that had killed her husband. She went to share the Gospel with them, and through her strength, courage and faithfulness to the vision she believed God had given to her a Jim, many in the tribe of self-proclaimed killers came to faith in Christ and gave up their murderous ways.

Sitting in that church in England, I was overwhelmed with emotion as I heard her speak about her life and faith in Christ. I could not believe that it was actually Elisabeth Elliot standing 15 feet in front of me—this woman whose words has shaped me so deeply was in the same room! Later, I asked for her signature in one of her books and smiled at this living hero across from me. I still don’t know why she was at that small church in England on the one particular Sunday when I happened to be across the world in the same church. Whatever the reason, I know that morning was a gift.

Elisabeth has entered into glory, now. She is with Jesus, her greatest prize.

Although she wrote many books and spoke across the world, Elisabeth Elliot was not flashy, was not self-focused and she did not even have an “issue” that she campaigned for—hers was a message of a God who is faithful, regardless of the circumstances. In her own circumstances of losing Jim to Auca spears and her second husband to cancer, she stayed the course and lived as a testimony of Christ’s sufficiency in a world that increasingly tells us otherwise. In Passion and Purity, she asks herself:

“…The question to precede all others, which finally determines the course of our lives is, What do I really want? Was it to love what God commands…and to desire what He promises? Did I want what I wanted, or did I want what He wanted, no matter what it might cost?” (Passion and Purity, 41)

Elisabeth Elliot decided, again and again, that she wanted what God wanted, no matter what the cost. Her life is a deep witness to God’s ability to work in a woman completely surrendered to Him.

I am so thankful for her life, and for that brief moment in England when I heard her voice with my own ears. I look forward to seeing her again.

To the Mom with the Screaming Child at the Grocery Store

To the Mom with the Screaming Child at

I was at the grocery store for approximately the 18th time last week, making my way past the cheese section while Ella munched on a Mum-Mum in the grocery cart seat.

That’s when I heard it.

Crying.

But it wasn’t really crying, I’m I’m going to be honest. It was screaming. One of those mad wails that had escalated into hysterical screaming somewhere between the rotisserie chicken and the pre-made deli plates.

I was curious, I’ll be honest. I rolled the cart a little faster as Ella clutched her Mum. I wanted to see if someone was hurt, or if it was just a child losing his mind.

It was the latter. As I watched, I saw the mom grab an iPad out of the boy’s hands, which doubled his screaming efforts. Admittedly, the noise level was impressive. The scream-crying echoed through the grocery store and bounced off of the countless metal surfaces with incredible resonance; this child had lungs. And I saw why: the boy was older than I had expected him to be–maybe six, maybe seven years old. His brother sat, unmoving, next to him in the body of the cart while this seven-year-old had a fully committed meltdown right in the middle of the ready-to-eat food aisle.

And then I watched as the mom rolled–no, raced–her cart to the store’s exit. She grabbed the hands of her sons–one of them still screaming–and ran out of the store. She was panicked; her body language spoke that harried tilt that moms know all too well. It’s the tilt that belies what’s underneath–all of the anxieties, all of the fears, all of the things we wish we could fix or stop or pause but can’t.

Her cart, half-full, was abandoned by the automatic doors.

I made my way down the long aisle and over to the lonely cart and looked out the front doors, hoping she was still there.

Because I wanted to tell her this:

It’s ok. You’re ok. Nobody but you will remember this. 

I wanted to say to her:

I don’t judge you. I don’t think you’re a bad mom. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

I wanted to hold her hand and speak:

We’ve all had those days. Those bad days. The days where even the iPad and the extra snacks and the favorite toy won’t help. I’m sorry today was your bad day. I hope that you don’t have bad days most days, but even if you do, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad mom. It just means it’s hard.

I wanted to let her know:

You’re not alone. I can imagine you’re doing your best. And if your best wasn’t enough today, tomorrow is another shot at this crazy-hard thing called mothering. 

And I wanted to finish her grocery shopping for her and hug her and let her know that I understand that she’s trying, even if it’s hard. Because this being a mom thing–it is hard.

And next week it might be my kid screaming in aisle one. If it is, I’ll take a hug. And some chocolate.


3 Prayers for Every Mom to Pray

3 Prayers for Every Mom To Pray

Earlier this week I had the gift of getting to speak to a MOPS group several suburbs away. The time we shared together was refreshing and fun, and I was able to speak to the group about growing spiritually in a season with little ones. I think that, as moms, we often feel tired—and that makes us feel like growing spiritually is a luxury that we can’t afford between nap times, play-dates, and crazy schedules. My heart was to offer these fellow moms some practical tools for how to stay connected to God even in this wild season of mothering with small kids. And as I’m reflecting on our time together, my heart is turning toward how we, as women, might be able to pray for ourselves and for one another. Not all of us are moms, but all moms need prayer—and lots of it! If you would, take a moment to pray these prayers for the moms that you interact with at work, at church, at the gym. We all need God’s guidance and help as we navigate these waters of learning how to love and live as moms.

  1. Pray that the moms you know would connect meaningfully with Jesus and that they would know their worth in Christ. Getting much-needed quiet time with God can be increasingly difficult in a season where the “quiet” in “quiet time” is MIA for months—or years. Pray that the moms around you would have the space to meet with Jesus consistently and that their personal worth would only stem from who God says they are—not who culture tells them they should be.
  1. Pray that the moms you know would have Godly wisdom to know how to parent their particular children. Mothering isn’t a generic role to fill—each child has their own needs, quirks, and desires. We need God’s wisdom to know how to love our children and lead them as He does.
  1. Pray that the moms you know would have supernatural energy to do all that they need to do in order to mother with love and grace. Kids usually have a lot more energy than their parents—ha! Oftentimes, our fuses are short because we are  t-i-r-e-d. Pray that God would refresh and renew the moms that you know.

How might our parenting change if we, as women, prayed these simple prayers for one another consistently? I’d love to join you in praying for the moms in our lives–ourselves included!

Still Waiting by Ann Swindell