Wreck My Life Read online

  © 2016 by Mo Isom

  Published by Baker Books

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.bakerbooks.com

  Ebook edition created 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4934-0493-3

  Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

  Scripture quotations labeled NASB are from the New American Standard Bible®, copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

  Scripture quotations labeled NLT are from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

  Some names and details have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals involved.

  “One of the hardest things to see about my generation is our complete fear of pain or dealing with brokenness. We cover our wounds, hoping they’ll go away, but they don’t. Mo reminds us that brokenness is actually the very place God meets us the most, and the place where we can find Jesus like never before. I can’t wait to see this book unleashed to the world!”

  Jefferson Bethke, New York Times bestselling author of Jesus > Religion

  “Mo Isom’s book, Wreck My Life: Journeying from Broken to Bold, is a raw and honest story of her trek from a cracked and hopeless life to one of healing and restoration found only in Jesus. Mo can truly say now that her self-worth comes from her complete dependence on Christ. Joy comes to her and to all of us by saying yes to Jesus. This book will bring you hope in your own journey, and you’ll find yourself celebrating not just her life but your own.”

  Shelley Giglio, cofounder of Passion Conferences/Passion City Church; chief strategist of sixstepsrecords

  “I first read part of Mo’s story in an online article and was so moved by her transparency and how she persevered through all she has been through. In Wreck My Life, Mo tells the amazing story of God’s grace and redemption in her life as He uses what was broken and makes it beautiful. It’s a reminder that we serve a God who never fails to meet us where we are and promises to give us beauty for ashes. You will find life and grace as you turn each page.”

  Melanie Shankle, New York Times bestselling author of Nobody’s Cuter Than You

  “Mo Isom is an incredible communicator, both from the stage and in her writing. It takes a lot of heart to combine your own personal and heartbreaking stories with life lessons and biblical truths and do so with humor, candor, and honesty, but Mo has done it. Every person who picks up this book will be challenged, entertained, and more connected with God by reading it.”

  Annie Downs, author of Let’s All Be Brave

  “In a generation that lacks authenticity, Wreck My Life shines bright. Mo’s raw, real, and unfiltered story will captivate you in a way others can’t. Everyone can relate to the real-life issues tackled in this book, and everyone needs the hope it provides.”

  Sam Acho, NFL linebacker; humanitarian

  “First of all, if I had a little sister, I’d want her to be just like Mo Isom: fearless, compassionate, hardworking, and deeply funny. Second of all, when I sat down with my copy of Wreck My Life, my plan was to read one chapter. Just one. Two hours later, however, I looked up and realized that I’d been completely engrossed in Mo’s story—a story that’s heartbreaking, relatable, inspiring, and redemptive. Mo’s words are such a reminder that we serve a good God who faithfully rescues us from the wreckage of our lives, a God whose plans for us are so much more than we could ask or imagine (Eph. 3:20). By the end of this book, you’ll feel like Mo is a longtime friend and you’ll be better for the time you’ve spent with her. (Also: you may start to think about trying out for a spot on the LSU football team, but just know that will fade with time. It did for me. But it’s possible that I may have tried to punt my son’s football. I blame Mo.) Don’t miss this phenomenal book!”

  Sophie Hudson, author of Giddy Up, Eunice and Home Is Where My People Are

  “It’s said that ‘the struggle is real.’ In Wreck My Life, Mo Isom is a tour guide who leads you to the center of some very real struggles. But she doesn’t leave you there. She crafts a life-giving narrative chock-full of Scripture and stories that will help connect the personal details of your greatest challenges with the pervasive hope, healing, and freedom found in Jesus Christ.”

  Gwen Smith, speaker; worship leader; cofounder of Girlfriends in God; author of Broken into Beautiful and I Want It ALL

  “No one wants pain. No one seeks out brokenness. But Mo Isom reminds us that when those things come our way, they are exactly what God uses to form us into people He can use.”

  Danny Wuerffel, 1996 Heisman Trophy winner; executive director of Desire Street Ministries

  For Big John

  Contents

  Cover 1

  Title Page 2

  Copyright Page 3

  Endorsements 4

  Dedication 4

  Introduction 9

  1. The Breaking Point 15

  2. Buying into Wrecked Religion 23

  3. Watch Me Work 35

  4. A House of Mirrors 47

  5. The Suicide of Simple 63

  6. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 85

  7. Revelation in the Wreckage 95

  8. Wreck My Dependence 105

  9. Wreck My Obsession 119

  10. Wreck My Pride 135

  11. Wreck My Plans 153

  12. The Bold Life 163

  Conclusion 179

  Acknowledgments 181

  About the Author 183

  Back Ads 185

  Back Cover 187

  Introduction

  I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.

  John 16:33, emphasis added

  Scripture makes many promises.

  This particular verse is one that was always difficult for me. It was hard to really believe. Who wants to wholeheartedly embrace a guarantee of life-altering pain and unexpected trials? A promise that if you haven’t already been in a storm, or if you aren’t standing in one right now, then there is certainly one on the horizon. A promise of wreckage, in some shape or form. Wreckage that could stand to disrupt everything. It’s scary, right? To think that no matter how hard we hope we can move through this life unscathed, we’re bound for trouble somewhere along the way.

  I didn’t want to hear it.

  Somewhere along the way I bought into the lie that a blessed life was a life lived with as little hardship as possible. That I was entitled to comfort and ease and happiness. That God was most present and pleased in the lives of those with abundance and minimal adversity. Rather than wrapping my head around the truth that hardship was inevitable, I convinced myself that if I did the right things and said the right things then maybe I could play it safe enough. So I flipped through the pages of life-breathed Scripture looking for the nearest inspirational verse instead of digging into the ones that made me ache and confused me. A quick pick-me-up. As if I could pick and choose what I wanted to be applicable t
o my own story. I moved through my days under the impression that I was the author of my story and that the trajectory of my life solely depended on my control, my success, and my own personal strength.

  Because of my skewed perception of reality, when the promised hardship did come my way it came close to ending me. When trouble came I desperately clung to my ability to cope with and mask and hold together all of the broken pieces. I lost myself trying to save myself and compromised so many things. I strove to be whole again—as if my own broken hands could ever fix my mangled heart. As if my ability to save my own story would somehow warrant me more personal glory when the world took its best look at me. And, in turn, I ended up wasting many of my younger years. Not listening. Not learning.

  I don’t want that for you.

  Suffering, adversity, and discomfort often derail us and drag us into a downward spiral of depression, blame, and pity. We wander through our days drowned in social media, social pressure, and spiritual timidity. In a culture of “fake it till you make it,” we keep our struggles to ourselves and only put our best foot forward for the world to reward. As a result, we’re becoming broken, lonely people who feel isolated in our sin struggles and ashamed of our shattered pieces. In a culture that craves comfort, we blame God for our wreckage, we doubt His goodness and sovereignty, and oftentimes we turn our back on a God we don’t believe could be truly loving and good if He allows such pain and suffering.

  I didn’t want to hear it either, but what if in our haste to feel good and avoid discomfort we’re ignoring promises that aren’t meant to scare us but rather prepare us? What if we’re missing out on the resounding glory of a sovereign King who is stating the obvious? He knows His opponent. He knows life is challenging and invites us to armor up on His team. This King gently promises us that we will all walk through valleys but in Him we are offered a divine hope in the depths of defeat.

  What if hearing and accepting the hardest things is exactly what sets us free? What if we began to recognize trouble and adversity as sacred rather than scarring? As promised rather than unforeseen? As guaranteed rather than game-changing? As purposeful rather than punishing? What if we truly believed there was purpose in our pain and a plan in our persecution? What would our world look like if we shifted our mentality and began to rejoice in our adversity, knowing adversity produces perseverance, perseverance produces character, and character produces hope (see Rom. 5:3–5)?

  What if we began to lean in to the second portion of John 16:33 that clearly promises there is something more—someone more—who has already triumphed over our defeat? A promise that introduces Jesus and wrecks through religion and begins to mean something. A promise of victory that looks like an innocent Judge taking on a death sentence so we, the criminals, can be set free. A promise that looks like a King who wrote the story of the cross, and all that it means, into the fingerprints of our genealogy. A promise that suddenly invites the holy words of Scripture to crawl off of the page, to breathe into our life—to wreck and redefine everything.

  In a broken world, our adversity and suffering will not cease but our perspective can boldly shift. We can begin to embrace adversity in a new light. We can begin to surrender the pain and suffering of our past, accept the forgiveness and grace offered in the present, and invite a holy God to wreck our lives. To unhinge the lies we’ve believed, to shake our preconceived ideas and beliefs, to obliterate our bondage and our shame and our pride and our defeat. With radical, unshakable faith placed in a radical, unfailing King, we are able to appreciate the wreckage of our past and orchestrate the voluntary wreckage of our future for the glory of a King who was first wrecked on our behalf.

  I want to share my story with you in hopes that it becomes your story too. I hope this testimony serves as a framework, one you can read through and transfuse your own story into. I hope these words find the pilgrim whose gasping breath cries out for life-saving truth and authenticity and peace. I hope these words find the nonbeliever in silent search of something more. I hope these words meet the scorned believer creeping back to a place of trust and that they also speak to the faithful believer, empowered and encouraged by the word of testimony.

  This book is full of things that challenge me and make me ache—the things that I always find hard to believe—particularly when my soul and flesh yearn for very different things. At its core, it’s about a messy King story that intervenes with a messy me story and somehow comes together for His glory in spite of everything. The heart of this testimony stares involuntary wreckage in the eyes and declares, “This will not win my story.” It invites voluntary wreckage and kneels before a King and says, “I am Yours and You are mine. Will you humble my wandering heart and wreck me for Your glory?”

  I hope this book invites you to crawl out of your grief and step into the excitement of how God plans to use you; not seeing your new journey as a reluctant Plan B but as the Master Plan tailored to your perfectly imperfect life. You may be feeling empty as you pick up this book. I pray it connects with you and helps you make some sense of the broken things. That it holds your hand and invites you to sit in the midst of a far greater story. That it encourages you to believe.

  So let’s strip away the formality. Right now it’s just you and me. In this world, we will face trouble. And usually, that’s the start of our story.

  1

  The Breaking Point

  I was as wounded and scabbed and scarred as they come. All I wanted to do was forget. But I couldn’t just forget. I couldn’t forget the image of his body on a morgue table. I couldn’t forget the feeling that his love for me hadn’t been strong enough to change the outcome of that day.

  And I couldn’t sit still long enough to let my wounds heal because all I wanted to do was run.

  Thanksgiving break couldn’t come soon enough. I needed out. Out of the college town that sung my praises, even when my depression drowned out their cheers. I needed home. The arms of my mom and the safety of a place where I could take off my mask and stop acting like I was strong. I needed rest. I was tired and empty and so sick of faking “fine.”

  My last day before break had been filled with distraction after distraction, task after task that popped up and had to be finished before I could head home to Georgia—an eight-hour drive from Louisiana’s capitol. A drive I had made so many times before. But something about this time was different. The year had taken more of a toll on me than I even realized. I was anxious and restless and found it hard to shake the resentment that tightened my tired muscles. I was eager to leave the day and to abandon the moment, to drive in hopes that I would forget all the moments that came before it. Even just for a little while.

  By the time I finally finished everything I had to do and hit the road, it was nearing five p.m. When I pulled onto the interstate, it quickly became apparent I wasn’t the only one eager to head home for the holidays. In fact, the entire population of Baton Rouge seemed to be parked on the freeway. After about two hours I had only moved about two miles. When the traffic finally broke, my eight-hour drive had become a ten-hour drive and I had the road rage to prove it.

  But I drove. And drove. And drove.

  For a while I let my mind be hypnotized by the passing street lines. Zip. Zip. Zip. Zip. They flew past like fireflies as dusk settled and my restless day turned into my anxious night. A part of me felt reckless—never fully present in a moment or concerned with anything more than the pain of my past and the hopelessness of the “now.” My whole year had felt that way.

  I texted a few guys on my phone as I sat, stuck, dragging through stop-and-go traffic. One in particular was bad for me. Or should I say, I was bad for him. I was bad for all of them. But that had never stopped me from getting my fix before. The year had left a gaping hole in my heart, and the brokenness that riddled my bones was only ever temporarily fixed by the encouraging words of friends and family. My loss hadn’t just left me broken, it had left me desperate. And desperate girls do desperate things when they don’t feel l
oved.

  This guy was no different from every other one before him, and my intentions were no more pure than they had been with those others. It felt good to know that I could make a man desire me with just a few words. It felt good to know I’d have a hookup waiting at home. As I gave myself away to the imagination of a man who wouldn’t matter, a part of me felt powerful again. A part of me felt like I was in control.

  Another part of me knew it was wrong. It was all wrong. It had all been wrong for the longest time. I wasn’t ignorant of the spiritual warfare that was ripping me at the seams, I was just too numb to fight it anymore. The tension was unceasing—it had been for a while. And rather than fight to seek hope and find a solution, I just absorbed it. I absorbed that tension into the DNA of my character and came to a halfhearted peace that things were as good as they were going to get. This unsettled angst was my new norm, and if I wanted to feel okay I just needed to accept that and move forward.

  It’s hard to describe what the tension of warfare feels like. For me it was a constant tugging in my chest, a tightness that was only eased by sitting through a church service and hoping that counted for something—or by drinking myself numb or distracting myself with men or drowning myself in my work and my athletics. So I did all of these things well—anything to pretend everything was all right. Anything to be affirmed and to feel wanted. But the tension hadn’t ceased through the year. If anything, it had only grown stronger and tighter, clenching me like the grip of a father who refused to let go of a thrashing child.

  Like the grip of the Father who refused to let go of my wandering soul.

  I was apathetic on the outside but screaming on the inside. Screaming that this wasn’t the life I had planned. Screaming to a God whom I proclaimed to love but in the depths of my heart doubted was even good. Screaming in frustration that I even cared so much! How weak I must be—what a pathetic, soft woman, that my emotions and my pain could rule my days.