The One Thing Your Blog Strategy (and your soul) Can’t Do Without

Create titles that hook ‘em, they say.
And they’re right.

Present your content with visual cues to keep them reading, they say.
Yep, I’m a believer!

Find your voice.
I agree. It makes all the difference.

Close with a call to action to invoke a response from the reader.
Marketing 101.

And above all, write, write, and write some more.
Mhmm, Writing 101.

No doubt about it, I have a huge passion for strategic communication. My background is in marketing, so I champion all the above principles. But there’s an ingredient that’s imperative to any blog strategy that I have yet to see in any “top tips for bloggers” articles.
And it trumps them all.

Some of you may have a good rhythm with your blog and don’t tend to second-guess your writing, your strategy, or yourself in the process. But I’m guessing for the majority of you, that’s not the case. Especially after reading posts from blogger friends like this one and this one.

So let me put my arm around your shoulder and be your voice of encouragement today.

This, friend, is what I want you to hear:

It’s okay if you’re titles don’t stop the entire world in its tracks.

And it’s okay if you’re struggling to find your voice.

Yes, it’s even okay if you don’t close with the all-imperative CTA.

It’s okay if you’re inconsistent,
don’t come up with the next big thing,
and don’t write nearly as often as you’d like to.

It’s o-kay.

So why, you ask, is a writer who has a huge passion for marketing communications offering you the freedom to break all the strategic rules she tenaciously champions?
Because I have a greater passion for Grace.

Grace is what trumps all I know about marketing. It’s the glorious freedom that tenderly beckons me to set aside strategy and break the rules. Regularly.
Because I want to know Him more than I want to know success.

But Tanya, you ask, won’t that make my blog ineffective, stagnant, and stale?
Oh, dear friend. Trying to constantly configure the perfect equation for the perfect blog will make your soul ineffective, stagnant, and stale.

That’s far too high a price to pay.

And please don’t mistake me for saying that a highly-visible blog is a bad thing, or that it's equated with a lack of intimacy with God, or that we should suppress our God-given dreams. Not at all.

I want to make an impact on our world as much as you do. And that’s a good thing. What I AM suggesting is that we don't let that desire to make Him known trump our desire to know Him.
Or else we’ll begin to mistake our impact for our identity.

I don’t know about you, but I wrestle with that. A lot. I’ve had a post about my struggle with that percolating for seven months, but for now I’ll leave it to Oswald Chambers to sum up:

“Beware of getting ahead of God by your very longing to do His will.
We run ahead of Him . . .
becoming so burdened with people and problems that we don't worship"

Beware of getting ahead of God by your very longing to do His will, dear blogger . . .

When you can’t find that snappy title that readers will find irresistible,
remember God’s power is made perfect not in competence,
but in weakness.

When you can’t find your voice,
trust His to speak through you.

When you’re banging your head up against a wall to come up with an engaging call to action (not that I’d know . . .ahem),
trust His Spirit to invoke a response in the reader’s soul in ways you or I never could.

And when the only feedback you receive is the sound of crickets chirping instead of comments affirming,
remember Who you’re writing for.
[And that it's also okay to break rules of grammar.] 

Strategic marketing and communications isn’t the end all be all for our blogs, dear blogger.
Your relationship with the One who authors your life story IS.

That relationship with Him is more important than your ministry for Him.
So don’t sacrifice intimacy with Him for the sake of traffic and stats.

Impact is valuable.
But it doesn’t determine your value.

And so, my fellow blogger, fellow life sojourner. Whether your blog strategy is written in a file or simply in your mind, THIS is what He longs for you to engrave in it:

GRACE.

For the imperfect blogger.

~ ~ ~
And now I want to hear from you!

How have you perceived success for your blog?

Do you struggle to embrace grace when you see other bloggers excel?

Do you ever let your personal value get too wrapped up in your blog?

Have you mistaken your impact for your identity?

And why not encourage your favorite bloggers today with this post?
Every blogger struggles with discouragement, at times. And not just us small-scale bloggers. So why not reach out to your favorite bloggers by sending this to them! Tell them how much you appreciate their pouring their heart out on the screen. And remind them of the freedom they have to be imperfect.

Let's cheer one another on toward grace-based blogging!



P.S. My little story of grace in this imperfect post . . .

Out of all the strategic communication tactics I shared, the one I struggle with most is closing my pieces with engaging questions. So several posts ago, I quit banging my head against the wall and decided to be okay without them.  A big part of my blog’s purpose is to be a source of joy for me, not pressure, and my laboring over that tactic was defeating that purpose.

Well, you know the rest of the story, right? As I was finishing up this piece, God brought the above questions to mind. Not just one, several! It was so foreign to have them simply come to mind without laboring over them for days on end that I have to shake my head in wonder and smile. It’s so like Him.

So! Making a cameo appearance here on Truth in Weakness, closing questions! Enjoy them while I have them, folks – Engage away!

Dear Overwhelmed, and Constantly Disappointed in Yourself

What a hard road in life you’re walking right now, friend. Maybe more like crawling. I am so sorry, and I know how weary you are. Many days life feels like it’s spinning out of control, doesn’t it? But I want to tell you something. I see your Father doing something in you, something good.

I know you probably can’t see it, because all you see is what you’re not doing, right? What’s falling through the cracks. That phone call you wanted to make to your friend who’s hurting, the meal you’d planned on providing a long time ago for the one in need, the opportunities to reach out to others that your heart longs to say yes to. I understand. It’s a perpetual struggle for me to see past all that I’m not doing as well.

But here’s what I see in your life. I see God shifting your dependence from yourself to Him. Because each time you fall short, each time you feel like a bad friend, or wife, or mom – those are invitations, sweet soul.
Intimate invitations to cling to the Cross.

Or as William R. Newell puts it:
“To be disappointed with yourself
is to have believed in yourself.”

"Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."
~ Isaiah 43:19

Hope for the Critical Heart

{Ravaged by} Great Expectations: Part 2

(Don't miss Part 1, How to Strangle a Great Marriage.)

" . . . we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything."
(1 John 3:20)

Remember my recent post on How to Strangle a Great Marriage? You know, the one where I share that one simple step called criticism unhealthy expectations? (Your comments and insights were so powerful, by the way!) Well, there’s unfortunately more to that ugly mess, friends. And it doesn’t just apply to marriage.

When it comes to our expectations, we have a choice as to what we do with them. Just like anything else in life, we can pretty much either attempt to manage them ourselves, or entrust them to the Lord’s loving care. And sadly, I am living proof of what can happen in the heart and mind when we don’t surrender our expectations fully to the Lord.

When I don’t de-throne my expectations, it hinders me from being able to process disappointment from unmet expectations biblically. And as a result, that poorly-processed disappointment quickly and easily leads to critical thoughts instead of forgiveness. Oppressive attacks of entitlement-based thinking, instead of streams of living grace.

One evening a few weeks ago, my husband was managing several time-sensitive business transactions. {He’s a local Real Estate expert, so we’re talkin’ critical stuff like negotiating on behalf of clients making some of the biggest decisions of their lives. But the man thrives with a good challenge. Wish I could say the same!}

Anyway . . . he had these critical transactions on his plate, yet was also graciously making himself available to me on the home front in the in between moments. Amidst his incredibly-full plate, he said some things that were clearly born out of a pressured context, but hurt, nonetheless. And in the middle of that conflict, our son accidentally dropped his drink on the floor, and his glass shattered into a wet mess.

If it had just been the glass that shattered, I would have swept it up. If it had just been liquid that spilled, I would have mopped it up. But this was a mess of both liquid and glass, and I didn’t know how to tackle it.
And that’s exactly how I felt about the ache in my heart at that moment.

I didn't know how to tackle my hurt. I didn't even know where to begin to process it biblically. I tried to remember the 10 principles that I recently shared in my Salve of Truth for the Wounded Soul post. But honestly, I couldn’t remember a single one.
I was drowning in my hurt.

Sadly, this is oftentimes the moment in marital conflict where my critical voice takes over. (For 15 years and counting . . . Sigh.) A speck of hurt can begin to look so large to me that I stare at it. From every angle. I begin to build an argument for why that speck is so terrible. In fact, I tell myself that I can’t even imagine allowing that speck into my own eye . . .
And in doing so, the pride-drenched critical log in my eye gets bigger.
And bigger.
And bigger.

In our conflict that night, my husband, my closest friend, was needing my understanding. But my self-focused flesh shut it down {along with appreciation}, and replaced it with looks of horror.
Over a speck . . .

But let me tell ya, friend – it didn't feel like a speck. It usually doesn't. Because my pride inconspicuously catches a ride with my feelings and sadly convinces my mind's eyes to see every speck magnified as beam-sized crushing blows. But then, something wonderful happened. God spoke to me – even though I was consumed with my hurt, not with Him!
He spoke to me despite me! Because He is greater than our feeble hearts, my friend!!

He said:
Don't make him feel like he's just done the worst thing in the world.
Because He hasn't.

And I thought:
Okay, Lord. Truth for sure . . . in fact, one that has come from my husband’s own lips in the past. Okay . . . don't make him feel like he's done the worst thing in the world . . .

My husband had stepped out of the kitchen for a bit to take care of something, and when he returned, I could tell that he was still bearing a lot of tension, so we delicately danced our way through some dialogue. And we probably exchanged no more than two or three minutes of conversation before the thought rose sharply to my mind:
He hasn't even apologized! . . .
I can't believe he can talk to me without even apologizing!

And in His mercy, God spoke to my wayward heart once again:
Don't look to get.
Look to give.

That evening, I was reminded that despite the battles that fiercely rage within my self-centered nature, God remains on His throne. Despite my tendency to attempt to find in my husband what only God can give, God continues to draw me to Himself. Despite the depravaty of my sin nature, I am hidden with Christ in all His holiness.

Whether you can be the voice of criticism, at times, or the recipient of it, I know the lies of life can become so loud and amplified.

They scream at you and tell you that you're not good enough, or not doing enough. They try to convince you that what he did is unforgivable, or unredeemable. Lies lure us to place our value, or others', in how well we live life, rather than in the sufficiency of Christ.

But I’m here to remind you that the Lord’s voice is LOUDER.
Because regardless of the state of your heart or mind, He is able to speak over the loudest noise in your soul. Whether the screams of hurt, the pain of criticism received, the bondage of expectations and criticism, the clutter of misplaced hope . . .

He is mighty to save us from ourselves, and He can make His voice be heard OVER all our pain, and all our junk.

So maybe you have times when you struggle with a critical spirit like I do. Or maybe you bear the tender bruises from critical words received. This fight for grace is a bloody battle, friends. But it's covered by the blood of Christ. So wherever you find yourself in that painful dynamic, I want you to know that there’s hope for the critical heart.



(Image above courtesy of Natanis Davidsen)

for when trying is utterly futile

[raging battles with the seen: part 1]

since my health adventure began, there’s been a big slice of life that has been off limits, with uninviting exceptions that i can count on one hand. an area so prominent that i unfortunately can’t avoid it, especially around the holidays. because afterall, how else are the holidays celebrated, but by indulging in all kinds of delicious FOOD, right?

i don’t need to tell you that food is a beloved topic of conversation, especially among women. IRL and online. it’s the theme of social gatherings year-round, the centerpiece of holiday parties. food is a popular topic in the stories i read my son, the songs i sing.
it. is. everywhere . . . relentlessly!

the world seems to revolve around food.
and so does mine.
just in an exhausting, overwhelming, and utterly disheartening way.

i’ll spare you the details and simply say that for the past year and a half, my body has only been able to tolerate a handful of plain foods. plain potatoes, a gluten-free pasta, a protein drink, some plain veggies, and a ration of fruit. yep, that pretty much covers it. (whether for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. because they're all the same.)

so as thanksgiving approached, i found myself grieving. grieving the loss of freedom i’ve always known. grieving the loss of comfort that i never knew i sought – until it came to a screeching hault. and grieving the loss of convenience that i desperately want back sorely miss.

and as i’ve slowly shifted from being confined to my couch to reentering life outside my four walls, the world around me looks the same as it used to.
but i’m not.
i cannot interact with it the same as i always have. and that’s been a painful adjustment.

rationally, i know i’m not missing out on any health benefits derived from sugar, MSG, and whatever else lurks in our food. but emotionally, i don't care still long for the freedom, the occasional comfort, and oh, the convenience.

and then i am challenged with this:
"we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen,
since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
- 2 Corinthians 4:18

that is one impossible tall order, but i know it’s the only way i’ll avoid giving in to the temptation to be self-absorbed, or to buy into the lie that something aside from God can satisfy me. sure, i know that.
in my head.

but oh, the road from my head to my heart. it’s an awfully long, dark, and windy one, friends. because i’m a tangible, literal, planning kinda girl.

i like the seen!!

things i can touch. smell. and of course, taste.

and i live in the seen . . . i walk through aisle after aisle in the grocery store seeing all the food i can’t have. i practically drooled at the heavenly smell of fried chicken permeating from somebody’s open car window in a parking lot recently. and what i wouldn’t give to be able to go out on a dinner date with my husband again . . .

i’m weary of this road i’m travelling.
i’m struggling hard with impatience.
and sadly, i sense my relationship with food growing bitter and resentful.

amidst the struggle, i read this from joyce meyer:
“pride prevents patient waiting because the proud person thinks so highly of himself that he believes he should never be inconvenienced in any way.”

ouch . . .

okay then. so i am called to fix my eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen.
somehow . . .

friends, i haven’t solved that dilemma. i’ve thought about it a lot. i’ve talked to God about it a lot. and i’ve been banging my head against the wall trying to figure out how to actually to fix my mind’s eyes on what is unseen, rather than on all this plethora of food that surrounds me and causes my senses to scream brutal lies of deprivation to me
all.
day.
long.

and then i remember . . .

i don’t have to figure it out.
victory doesn’t come in trying harder.
the power to overcome is only found when i stop trying.

this is a battle i can not win.
but Jesus already has.

“this is the assigned moment for Him to move into the center,
while i slip off to the sidelines.”
(john 3:30, the message)

in miles stanford’s book, the green letters (which i highly recommend), he shares this liberating truth from norman douty:

“throw down every endeavor and say, i cannot do it,
the more i try the farther i get from His likeness.
what shall i do?

ah, the Holy Spirit says, you cannot do it;
just withdraw; come out of it.
you have been in the arena, you have been endeavoring . . .
come out and sit down,
and as you sit there behold Him,
look at Him.

don’t try to be like Him, just look at Him.
just be occupied with Him.
forget about trying to be like Him.
instead of letting that fill your mind and heart, let Him fill it.”

my freedom lies in the simplicity of the gospel – when i remember that i am completely incapable of living this Christian life.

when i cease striving . . .

i invite you to read about the powerful experience that i had with God after seeking to surrender all this to Him. read raging battles with the seen: part 2 here.

the relief in failure

"For many, the deepest growth in humble, joyful reliance on God will be in the context of the most bloody battles, which appear to be tragic losses, and not glorious victories.”
- Dan Allender, Bold Love

And that right there, my friend, pretty much sums up the final six weeks, or so, of my 2011.

Bloody battles in my heart and mind that are downright overwhelming.
Battles of my expectations that constantly vie to snuff out the warm glow of grace.
Expectations of life. Expectations of God.
Discontentment emerging from unmet expectations of what I think God should do for me – rather than reveling in the wonder of who He is.

Battles against the temptation to be self absorbed. Usually lost.
Battles with feelings of entitlement that leave trails of relational destruction.
The steady assault of self-centered thoughts.

In my estimation, tragic losses for sure.
And in most battles, the enemy is me.

I haven’t even been able to figure out the right strategy for combat . . . Do I need to adjust my thinking? Or simply receive God’s comfort amidst the challenges? How do I overcome my feelings with healthy perspective? And how do I walk by faith – when I feel like I can’t conjure it?

Amidst the chaos on the battleground and the noise of clanking armor on this awkward soldier, there is a still, small voice.

Bring it to Me. Bring it ALL to Me.

Your confusion.
Your chaos.
Your sorrow.
Your defeats.

Because you can’t win these battles.

But I already have.

blogophobia

Let's just get this right out in the open. I have thought about blogging for two or three YEARS a while. And I kept coming up with "what ifs" . . .

• What if I get so perfectionistic about my posts that I take all day to write them? (I may or may not have tweaked this inaugural post 38 a few times -- after it was finished. . .)



• What if I'm not witty like my one blogger friend, or don't find a natural blogging voice like my other blogger friends? (Forget voice. I don't even know blogging lingo!)



• What if I put too much importance on the feedback? (My people-pleasing tendancies have been knockin' on my door my whole life, so I'd much rather keep that door closed and not feed that monster, thank you very much.)



• What if what I say isn't profound? (Heaven forbid I utter words that are -- ordinary!)

What if. What if. What if.

In other words, what if I'm not, wait for it, perfect?? (gasp!)
And thus begins my introduction. My name is Tanya, and I am a recovering perfectionist. (Recovered? Not at all. But recover-ing? Absolutely!) And as I thought about blogging for the 12,738th time again this morning, I was having a conversation with God about it. I sensed Him asking me if I wanted to have a voice (of impact). To which I replied, "Yes, I just don't know what to do with it!" At which point I sensed Him saying, "I'll show you what to do with it." (gulp.)

So I think it's time to pull back those curtains and open up the window, friends! Even though what's inside often isn't as pretty as the flowers in that window box. (Yikes!) All right, people. Here's where you remind me that I don't have to be a super-human blogger. But how about you? Have you ever felt like you needed to have the whole plan figured out before you dared to take that first step? And very possibly missed out on something quite good, as a result?
(Please say yes. Please say yes.)