I read a book this weekend. I don’t usually do that … read a book in that short amount of time. It usually takes me much longer. I have focusing issues when it comes to reading. Tremendous ones. Rarely do I read fiction, and as it pertains to non-fiction, I really, really have to want to read a book before I make an investment of my time. In addition, I prefer to read material from authors I’ve grown to trust over the years—authors who can write, but even more so, authors who are authentic in their love for Jesus and for me. Most of the authors I read aren’t aware of my existence. So, how do I know they love me? Care about me? Want the best for me?
Sometimes I just know. Their care and concern for my heart as a reader is evidenced by the strength of their words… their story. And while I came kicking and screaming to this particular one—her story—I came knowing that her heart and her pen were worthy of my trust. Accordingly, I quickly dug into her words, and they have quickly taken hold of my heart. So much so, that a second read is a must. I fear I’ve missed some vital information the first go-around, but as first go-arounds go, this was a good ride. A hard ride. A necessary, painful ride, but a ride that will push me further along my road of healing.
Enter Lisa Whittle and {w}hole: an honest look at the holes in your life—and how to let God fill them.
I saw Lisa back in July at the She Speaks conference. In fact, as I was laboring to haul all my baggage indoors, she met me at the elevator and offered to help me to my room. I was grateful for her help, even more so for the gift of friendship extended to me. I don’t think she had a clue as to how vulnerable I was feeling that day. I was a sweaty, hurting mess just trying to find my place within that arena of 600 women—a place where I sometimes think I no longer belong. I don’t suppose I’ve ever felt so “under the radar” as I did that weekend. There’s just something about a gathering of Christian women that now triggers insecurity for me. It hasn’t always been this way, but life changed for me in August 2010—moved in and rattled me, shook me, challenged me, and frightened me. And while on any given day many people only see my confidence… maybe even prefer to see my confidence, few of them ever take the time to look deeper, ask deeper, live with the deeper shadows of the woman I now am. A woman just trying to leave her mark on this world, yet a woman who sometimes feels inadequate to do so.
Lisa Whittle is a woman who is brave enough to go deeper with me. I imagine she’s that way with most of the people she meets. She’s worked hard to get there. Authenticity doesn’t come naturally for most people. It takes years of shaping beneath the kindness, mercy, and certain prompting of the Holy Spirit to arrive at a place of genuineness, a place of wholeness. And while Lisa would probably be the first to admit she’s still on the journey toward wholeness, her witness speaks clearly to the transformational work of the cross that has come to her because of her willingness to bring her “holes” into the light of God’s love. You can’t miss it in her—wholeness. It’s just that obvious.
I love Lisa’s book for so many reasons, but none more so than for the hope that it has brought to my heart. A hope for wholeness of my own. A wholeness not based on experience, but a wholeness based on Jesus Christ. In one of the many particularly moving moments from {w}hole, Lisa writes…
“There’s something that happens to you when you wake up from a difficult experience and realize you are still breathing. Just as a colorful bud on a flower defies the weight of the heavy mound of snow it’s buried under to show signs of spring, so does the breakthrough of a new day prove its viability despite life’s deep complications. The decision, then, is whether or not to welcome it… .” (pg. 142)
Waking up. Still breathing. Not quite sure of my readiness to welcome it. Does it get any rawer, more real, and more authentic than this, Christians? How many of us are waking up to our lives, realizing that we’ve survived great horrors, only to find ourselves unable to move forward to wholeness? What holes in our skin serve as gaping wounds to our soul’s discontent? What salve are we slapping on them in hopes of suppressing the pain for another day? Wouldn’t it be better to really examine them? Bring them into the light of God’s love, even as Lisa has, and allow God to heal them with the truth of himself?
I don’t suppose I’m the only one with some wounds. We are a holy lot, and where there is holiness, there is sure to be wounding. Wholeness doesn’t arrive without scarring. To be whole means that we have, at one time (maybe even this time) been less. Tonight I feel the profundity of it all—the cavernous holes that I carry with me—and the hope and wholeness that is offered to me through Jesus Christ, despite their severity. I don’t know how long it will take me to reach a place of wholeness. I don’t imagine there’s a usual, typical benchmark to gauge my progress. But as I close the pages of Lisa’s book, I believe I’ve taken a step or two in the right and very good direction.
Lisa wants God’s best for me. I just know it. She wants God’s best for you as well. God’s best? {W}holeness, Jesus-style. If you are willing to bring your holes, your heart, and your humility to Jesus, then I believe that he will bring his authentic, grace-filled restoration to your life. I’m believing God for the same. And while I’m honest enough to admit that I’m not sure how to get there, I’m more than ready and willing enough to try.
Thank you, Lisa, for giving us your story—your holes and your experiences. You’ve lit a spark of hope in my heart this weekend.
Peace for the journey,

PS: I’m giving away two copies of Lisa’s book. Leave a comment, and I’ll draw a winner with my next post. To see the book trailer to {w}hole, click on the screen below. Shalom.
Whole trailer, by Lisa Whittle from Tyndale House Publishers on Vimeo.
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