I was in upstate New York when an odd phrase popped into my head.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          I'll get to the phrase in a minute. Promise. But first I want to set up the moment in which the phrase popped out.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          In the moment, I was presenting at a conference, talking with creatives about leading creatives. We were discussing all the attendant joy and challenge that come along with leading those who sometimes carry some broken-ness along with all that outsized beauty. 
                          
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          Beauty and brokenness - mingled and married.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          The convocation started out with all the normal questions: Recruitment. Volunteer retention. Script selection. The Q & A went on like Q & As do.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          I looked at those faithful faces - people who tenderly stewarded the beautifully gifts of those entrusted to them - and many seemed weary. Some of the questions even revealed spiritual fatigue, due to painful criticism of them as leaders and volunteers. To be clear, there was neither a sense of self-aggrandizement or victim-hood. These weren't think-skinned, prickly people - people who withered at the first hint of conflict or criticism. These were faithful folks, serious about serving His bride. Alongside that love, though, ministry and leadership had exacted a high toll emotionally.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          One brave woman asked another question.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          How do you do it, Allison?
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          At a particular moment - it felt as if realness descended in a kids' Sunday school room in upstate New York. It felt like Jesus' chariot swung low.
                         
 
                         
                          And I knew she was asking a million questions by just that one.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          How do we do it? AND - How do we maintain our hearts while we do it? AND - We're called to this work, no doubt about it, but how do we maintain our hearts in the process?
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          And then the phrase popped out.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          "Duck's Back. Lion's Heart." I wasn't totally sure where I was going with this. I continued with something like, "I mean, when criticism comes or any other thing that wants to sweep your legs spiritually speaking, I think we have ask Jesus to help us cultivate a duck's back and a lion's heart."
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          Developing a duck's back simply means that when something is painful -perhaps over-judge-y criticism - tempts you to abandon God's place for you, make the decision before-hand to allow it be like water off a duck's back.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          One fine way to do that is deciding ahead of the time what you will not do when criticism comes: Don't cuddle the criticism. Don't be quick to be offended by it. Don't pick it back up. Don't memorize it. Don't print it. Don't save it in a file. Look at - see it for what it is - and then let it roll off your back.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          (Speaking of which: ducks feathers don't get wet because of a protective oil. And it's a protective oil that the ducks spread over themselves, as they preen them. It's a holy oil raincoat. I've always loved this, because the Holy Spirit is often symbolized as oil in the Bible. The oil acts as a slicker as everything else stays perfectly dry underneath. Now, the duck won't freeze to death and can go about their work - which would be, well, ya know, swimming and flying and the like. That's where we get the phrase, "water off a duck's back.)
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          But having a duck's back is nothing if not paired with a lion's heart. One is protective and one is pro-active.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          The lion-hearted live like so: In spite of difficulty or criticism, they remain engaged in the work of God. Knowing it is God's grace alone that enables such boldness. It takes a bulwarked heart, one whose muscles are strong, in whose veins runs the blood of an overcomer, whose sinews are primed for readiness. It takes a heart that doesn't run from a fight, when Jesus says pick up that sword. The Bible is full of imagery of war and battle and frankly, fight. We women often stay away from the battle, but when I look to the scripture I see woman after woman who fought for the things God said were her's. Hannah. Abigail. Esther.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          Are you ready for a worthy fight?
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          Don't miss it when God calls you to say to hurting hearts, "You're worth this fight. Jesus believes it and so do I."
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          Ask God to gift you with a lion's heart. A heart like the lion of the tribe of Judah.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          In life and in ministry, in the majestic and the mundane, ask Jesus for a Duck's back and a Lion's heart.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                          Ask Him for a mighty quack and roar.
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
                         
                           
                         
 
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