Spotlight
Running from Clichés
I think I was afraid of being a cliché before I even knew what the word meant. As a child the greatest insult I could throw at my little sister or my friends was that they were “copycats.” When I came across songs, stories, or people who reminded me of something or someone I had already seen, something in me sighed, disappointed. It was during my fifth grade year at school when the word “cliché” arrived on my English vocab list, finally defining this thing I had dreaded my whole life. “A very predictable thing or person” was suddenly on my watch list, and my best friend and I competed to see who could spot clichés in dialogue we heard or books we read. “CLICHE!” we would shout upon hearing or seeing one, hoping we were the first one to note it. (Yes, we were nerds. I fully own this.)
This hyper-awareness of clichés stayed with me through Bible college when it morphed into a sort of snide and prideful noting of each time a worship song was done too many times or Scriptural texts were preached repetitively in chapel services. Outside of school, I noticed the way each “new” Christian fiction story was essentially the same formula as any other I could pick from the shelf and the way Christian hit radio had been playing the same ten hits for the past ten years. As life continued and social media exploded, I noticed each time a person’s status or hash-tag echoed another over-done trend. I vowed to never to be “that person” – unless, of course, I was doing it tongue-in-cheek (CLICHE!).
Over time, God worked on my mean attitude and He replanted grace in my heart. However, my deep craving for originality came from what I inherently knew to be true: we each carry within us something utterly unique, an individual and God-breathed potential that He’s given to no one else. The gifts placed within us might mirror someone else’s at first glance, but the timing and expression with which we use them are — or should be — unparalleled.
The problem is that years of snide eye-rolls at others’ unoriginality birthed a deep fear in me of being unoriginal myself. From the least of things (choice of hairstyle, movie to watch, wardrobe) to the greatest of things (my mothering, my writing, my ministry) I have, over the years, often let my fear of being a cliché keep me from being anything at all. In my effort to say only things that have never been said, I have opted to say nothing. In my striving to keep originality foremost, I have often sacrificed authenticity. What’s happened is that my unbending pursuit of originality has squelched God’s unique calling over my life just as much as it would be squelched by my copying everyone else around me. Seeking an original expression that isn’t true to me is just as detrimental as seeking an unoriginal expression that isn’t true to me.
I think there are two sorts of fear in life and ministry that choke out our effectiveness. The first is the fear of being the same. In our efforts to not say or do anything that is overdone or be “just another” whatever, we sometimes allow our fear to stop us from doing what we were made to do. The second is the inverse fear of not being the same. As we compare ourselves to others and try to measure up, we often model our lives or ministries after someone we were never made to be. This can also keep us from doing what we were made to do.
This idea was beautifully captured by Nathan Edwardson in an episode of the podcast “Exploring the Prophetic with Shawn Bolz.”* Nathan pastors The Stirring, a church described in the podcast episode as one of the “other” churches in Redding, California. In the episode Nathan shares what it has felt like to live in the shadow of the well-known Bethel church, especially during a specific season when “glory clouds” (physical, cloud-like manifestations of God’s glory) started showing up during Bethel’s church services.
“When a glory cloud’s showing up at the church down the street but not at yours, you have to talk to God about it . . . . At one point I just said, ‘God, why . . . why don’t we have a cloud? . . . The Lord spoke so clearly to me, and He said, ‘You never asked me for a cloud.’”
Nathan shared how the Lord reminded him that He’d given him everything he had asked for: a city, a culture, a generation, sons, and daughters.
“‘Everything in your heart I’ve given you. You never asked me for a cloud.’”
Nathan continued, saying, “It brought me into a deeper journey of asking the Lord. ‘What is in my heart?’ Cause if we don’t know what’s in our heart, then we’ll chase what’s in someone else’s heart.”
Whether we are running from clichés or chasing after the dreams in someone else’s heart, we are running a race that will exhaust us because it is not our race. The dreams, desires, and gifts placed within our hearts were crafted uniquely by God and they are the only ones that will lead us to the path we were meant to run on. Psalm 139:13 (ESV) says of God, “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.” I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to imagine that the “inward parts” God formed include our hearts and the dreams that grow within them. God uniquely formed the inward parts of our body, thus creating us to be one unique part of a greater body, the Church. And beyond that, the world!
“But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be?” (1 Corinthians 12:18).
We don’t have to strive to make ourselves uber-original; we don’t have to force or fake that. By asking God who He crafted us to be and staying true to that original design, we can’t help but be unique. God doesn’t make the same thing twice. You’ve never been done before.
Likewise, we don’t have to strive to make ourselves the same as or “just as good as” anybody else. By following the leanings God has placed in YOUR heart, you will fulfill the things only YOU were made to do. And the world will be richer and more colorful for it.
Do what you were made to do, even if it’s never been done (that probably means it’s desperately needed) and even if it’s been done 1,000 times (it’s never been done by you). You are no rerun or cliché. Your story’s never been written until now, which means the world needs it right now. So, you know, be yourself! You do you! (CLICHÉ!) I promise I’ll try to do the same.
*Bolz, Shawn. “Nathan Edwardson.” Exploring the Prophetic with Shawn Bolz. Podcast audio, March 5, 2019. exploringtheprophetic.libsyn.com
By every human measure, my story should have ended differently. The wounds of my childhood, the choices I made, and the life I built all pointed me away from God, not toward Him. Yet here I am—a follower of Jesus Christ, an author, teacher, and witness to the transforming power of God’s grace.
When I look back on my life, the words of the hymn Amazing Grace come to mind: “I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.”
I know what it means to be lost.
My childhood was marked by deep brokenness. My father’s alcoholism cast a long shadow over our family, and I grew up yearning for his love and acceptance. My parents divorced when I was six. I hoped the turmoil would end, but new struggles emerged, including verbal and physical abuse within our home. I also experienced sexual and emotional abuse at the hands of older boys, girls, and adults in my community. Those wounds followed me into adulthood, shaping my view of myself, relationships, and identity in ways I would not fully understand until Christ began healing them.
As I grew older, I searched for acceptance and fulfillment in places that could never truly satisfy. I married early and had a daughter. I earned an advanced degree and took on increasingly responsible work. Eventually, I entered a same-sex relationship that lasted three decades.
The Lord was not exposing my sin to destroy me.
He was revealing it so He could save me.
Outwardly, life appeared successful. I enjoyed a corporate career in New York, entrepreneurial ventures, financial success, and early retirement on the North Carolina coast. But beneath the surface, something was missing. I had achieved many of the things people spend their lives pursuing, yet I lacked peace. God, however, had not given up on me.
In His providence, God began rearranging my life. A deep longing to be closer to my daughter and granddaughter led me to leave retirement on the coast and relocate to Ohio in 2020. At the time, the move seemed irrational to many people. Looking back, I can see the hand of God directing every step. Then came the moment that changed everything.
One afternoon in early 2021, I was sitting alone when I came across a brief teaching based on Matthew 7:21-23. Jesus’ words struck me with a force I had never experienced before: “Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven.” And then the words that shook my soul: “I never knew you; depart from Me.”
For the next 24 hours, those words would not leave me. I found myself asking questions I had spent years avoiding. Was I truly following Christ? Had I created a version of Jesus that accommodated my desires rather than submitting to the Jesus revealed in Scripture?
Desperate for answers, I opened my Bible. I expected to find acceptance and affirmation that I had fabricated in my mind for decades. Instead, I encountered the holy, righteous Christ of Scripture. As I read through the Gospel of Matthew, God’s Word exposed my heart. Hebrews describes the Word of God as “living and powerful,” and that is exactly how I experienced it. The Bible was no longer just words on a page. God was speaking. Truth began replacing the lies I had believed.
As conviction grew, so did my understanding of God’s mercy. The Lord was not exposing my sin to destroy me. He was revealing it so He could save me.
The issue was no longer simply sexuality. The deeper question was lordship.
Eventually, I reached a crossroads. The issue was no longer simply sexuality. The deeper question was lordship. Would I trust Jesus? Would I trust that His design was better than my own? Would I surrender my identity, plans, relationships, and future to Him? By God’s grace, I did.
Repentance was painful. Obedience required sacrifice. But what I discovered on the other side was not loss—it was freedom.
Over time, God renewed my mind through His Word, healed many of the wounds that had shaped my life, and taught me that my true identity is not found in my past, my temptations, or my feelings. My identity is found in Jesus Christ.
Today, I have the privilege of sharing that message with others. Through writing, speaking, and ministry, I encourage people who are wrestling with sexual brokenness, identity confusion, shame, and hopelessness. My testimony is not ultimately about leaving a former lifestyle. It is about encountering a Savior who transforms lives.
If there is one truth I hope readers take away from my story, it is this: no one is beyond the reach of God’s grace. The same Jesus who pursued me is still pursuing people today. He still calls sinners to repentance. He still heals wounded hearts. He still makes all things new.
I know because He did it for me.
About the Author
Mark Richard is an author, speaker, and follower of Jesus Christ whose life was transformed by the truth and grace of God. After spending nearly three decades in a same-sex relationship, he encountered the living Christ through Scripture and surrendered his life fully to Him. Today, he encourages and equips individuals, families, and churches with the truth of the Gospel and the power of God’s transforming grace.
He is the author of Sacred Sexuality: Grace and Truth Revealed in a Culture of Confusion. Mark lives in Toledo, Ohio, near his daughter and granddaughter. You can find more information on his website: www.MarkRichardMinistry.com
My life has been full of divine appointments. Lately it seems like every week God sets me up with a life-changing conversation. I’ve learned that when we’re willing and available, God is always at work. Sometimes He asks us to do something that doesn’t make sense at the time, but later we realize He was arranging something far bigger than we could see.
One day I was preparing a meal for a team that was visiting us. I kept hearing that I needed to prepare salsa. I argued with myself, saying, “I don’t have anything for salsa. I would need to go to the store.” But I couldn’t shake it, so I went.
At the store I ran into a woman who was also picking out Roma tomatoes. “Are you making salsa?” she asked me. When I said yes, she asked if I had a recipe and who I was making it for.
I told her I was making it for a team because I am a missionary. Immediately, she started to cry. I asked if she had someplace to go and invited her to come back to my house with me. She said yes.
Sometimes He asks us to do something that doesn’t make sense at the time, but later we realize He was arranging something far bigger than we could see.
As we talked at my home, she began sharing details about her life, and I began sharing parts of my own story that I don’t normally tell people. It quickly became clear that those experiences spoke directly to what she was going through. They were exactly what she needed to hear that day.
Finally, she confessed, “I told God if He was real, to send me someone who believed in Him, or I would kill myself.”
You know what’s funny? I never made the salsa. It was never about the salsa.
I’ve learned not to lean on my own understanding. When God nudges us to do something, we often want to know why before we obey. But sometimes we don’t see His purpose until afterward. If I had waited until it made sense, I would have missed that divine appointment completely.
That seems to be happening a lot lately.
The day before I flew to visit my daughter in Springfield, Oregon, I had to get new tires for my car. After striking out at three different tire stores, I finally ended up at Pep Boys near the border. There was only one other person waiting.
He began telling me he had recently been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. He said it was so hard to get in to see the doctor because of the waiting lists. Then he quietly said, “I guess I’ll just die.”
I asked him, “Where will you go when you die?”
He got very quiet. I asked if he believed in God, and it opened the door for us to talk. I could tell he didn’t really know the Lord. I don’t know whether he accepted Christ that day, but I know I had the opportunity to share with him. Maybe someone else will water that seed. I believe that was another divine appointment.
You know what’s funny? I never made the salsa. It was never about the salsa.
The very next day I boarded my flight to Oregon. The woman in the window seat beside me was a Christian. Right away, we started talking about the Lord and prayer. She was a real prayer warrior. I was in the middle seat, and a man sat beside me on the aisle.
About an hour into the flight, the woman sitting directly in front of us suddenly stopped breathing. The man beside her realized something was wrong, alerted her husband, and soon a doctor on the plane pulled her into the aisle and began CPR.
The woman beside me and I immediately began praying and speaking life over her. Thankfully, she came back.
A little while later the man sitting next to me tapped me on the shoulder and said, “I heard what you said.”
I asked, “What did I say?” (We had been talking about the Lord for the whole flight.)
He replied, “You said, ‘Life is short.'”
“It is,” I said. “And where you go when you die is so important.” That opened the door for me to share Jesus with him.
Looking back, I can’t help but marvel. God placed a prayer warrior beside me, seated the woman who needed prayer directly in front of us, and had a doctor on board. At the same time, He gave me an opportunity to talk with the man beside me about eternity. God arranged every seat on that plane for His purposes.
When I got off the plane, my daughter Sherry asked, “Mom, what’s your story today?”
I said, “Oh, Sherry, you’re not going to believe it.”
There have been so many moments like that over the years.
Once, while my husband and I were itinerating, I sat next to a woman on a plane who told me she was traveling the world because she only had three months to live.
God is already at work in people’s lives;
He simply invites us to join Him.
I said, “Oh my goodness, you only have three months to live! You’re almost going to meet your Maker!”
When she told me she used to go to church, I asked if I could pray for her. She said no. We kept talking, and eventually she mentioned that her back was hurting terribly. This was completely out of character for me, but I asked if I could rub her back. She leaned forward and said yes.
As I began rubbing her back, I felt the Holy Spirit come over me, and I started singing, “Be still and know that I am God.” When I finished, she quietly asked, “Would you pray for me?” This time she was ready.
I prayed with her and had the privilege of leading her to the Lord that day. When I got off the plane, my husband, who had been sitting three rows away, asked, “What was going on back there? I heard you singing.” I would never have done something like that on my own. It was definitely the Holy Spirit.
I’m becoming convinced that divine appointments really are everywhere. They happen on airplanes, in restaurants, at tire stores, in grocery stores, and wherever else God leads us.
Our part is simply to be available.
Not every conversation ends the way we wish it would. Sometimes we have the privilege of seeing someone place their faith in Christ, but other times, we just plant a seed. Someone else may water it later, and we trust God to bring the increase. When we are faithful to share His love, we can leave the results in His hands. God is already at work in people’s lives; He simply invites us to join Him.
About the Author
Fayth McConnell has felt God’s call on her life since childhood. She was blessed to share sixty-nine years of marriage with her husband, and together they raised one son, two daughters, and a brother. Throughout their life and ministry together, Fayth and her husband faithfully served the Lord as pastors and Open Bible missionaries to Mexico. Since 1998, they have shared the love of Christ and ministered to others throughout Mexico. Fayth continues to serve as an Open Bible missionary, carrying on the call God placed on her life many years ago.
Ruth Brauer spent decades wondering about the brother she never got to know. Born with Down Syndrome in the 1960s, he’d been sent away with little explanation, and she was discouraged from asking questions. After years of dead ends, a series of connections only God could have orchestrated led to the reunion she’d been praying for. Sixty years after his birth, Ruth finally saw her brother for the first time.
It was March 1960. Ruth was about to turn seven when her baby brother was born on March 8th at Iowa Methodist Hospital. The excitement of finally having a brother to join her and her three sisters quickly turned to confusion as she was unable to meet him. Later, she learned he had Down Syndrome and that doctors had advised her parents to place him in a care facility at the nearby Woodward State Hospital.
“Back in the sixties, that’s just what you did,” Ruth shared. “But I know it tore my parents apart.”
Questions about Alan were shut down. Ruth didn’t know where he was or even his exact birth date.
“I always wondered about him, but I’d get in trouble when I asked.”
Even without knowing him, Ruth had always felt drawn to him. That compassion shaped much of her life. After being invited to Journey Church in 2016 by a friend, Ruth was especially moved by the church’s outreach events for children with special needs. As a barber, her favorite clients were those with special needs, and she also volunteered for years with the Des Moines Special Olympics.
That’s where the first breakthrough came.
One day, she struck up a deeper conversation with a fellow volunteer named Ray. He mentioned he had worked at Woodward State Hospital starting in 1959. Ruth’s attention snapped into focus.
“My brother was there in 1960! His name was Alan Politsch.”
Ray’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened and he began to walk away.
“Wait—what did I say?” Ruth called after him.
I had my hand on the table, and suddenly he was holding it.
“I’m not allowed to talk to you,” he replied. “Your parents banned me from talking to you.”
Still, she pressed him for one thing: a birthdate.
“Please, my parents are gone. I just want to find my brother.”
Before the day ended, Ray quietly gave her the month and day. It was enough to start, but not enough to get through the wall of privacy protections. Every group home she contacted turned her away.
Years passed.
Then another door opened—this time at a food pantry. Ruth shared her story with a volunteer named Bob, who offered to connect her with someone in the state department.
“They may not even call you,” he warned.
But they did.
The woman on the phone didn’t give her name, but simply said, “Bob said I needed to hear your story.” Ruth told her everything she knew: names, dates, places, family history. Weeks later, the phone rang again.
“Hi, this is Michelle,” the voice said. “I’m Alan’s guardian.”
Tears falling, Ruth began to speak.
“I don’t want to take anything from you. I just want to know he’s okay… maybe see a picture. And someday, maybe meet him.”
As she spoke, Ruth’s phone began to ping. Michelle was sending photos.
The call came in 2021, but it would take almost two years to build enough trust for a visit.
In August of 2023, Ruth was invited to a staff meeting at Alan’s care facility. As she sat in the room with nine other employees staring at her, Michelle walked into the room, Alan beside her, and guided him to the seat right next to Ruth.
I always felt like he was close by,” Ruth said. “I just didn’t know he was five miles away my whole life.
“He kept looking at me, nodding, with this little crooked smile,” Ruth said. “I had my hand on the table, and suddenly he was holding it.”
A nurse watching over video spoke up: “He knows you’re his sister.”
The bond was immediate and mutual.
“I always felt like he was close by,” Ruth said. “I just didn’t know he was five miles away my whole life.”
Since that day, they’ve spent birthdays and holidays together.
“He’s the best,” she said. “He fits right under my arm—he’s tiny. He loves Santa, the color red, Coke, and sunglasses.”
But the reunion has come with weight, too. Now 66, Alan’s health is declining, and Ruth has been asked to help plan his funeral.
“I just found him,” she said. “And now I’m helping plan his funeral… But he’s mine. He’s my baby brother. The one I waited for when I was seven.”
Looking back, Ruth continues to uncover the fingerprints of God. Ray, the man who first gave her Alan’s birthdate, later shared that he had cared for Alan during his first sixteen years at the hospital.
What are the odds?
When asked what this journey has taught her, Ruth doesn’t hesitate:
“Patience, persistence, prayer, and people.” That’s what it took to find her brother, and it’s what the Lord provided along the way.
Some stories don’t unfold quickly. Many of them take time, and it’s only later that we realize how God was working in our waiting. Ruth’s story serves as a reminder that no prayer is forgotten, no relationship is beyond reach, and that even in life’s chapters that feel long or uneventful, God is still writing.
About the Author
Hannah Bemis currently serves as the editor and director of Message of the Open Bible. She always wanted to do too many things when she grew up, and God has been kind enough to let her do most of them in different seasons. After seasons of mothering, teaching, writing, and staff pastoring, Hannah’s most recent adventure is planting and pastoring College Street Church in Newberg, Oregon, with her husband, Jordan. After Jesus and all her favorite people, she spends the remainder of her passion on pizza and dark chocolate in equal measure.