Tag Archive for: 2 Corinthians 10:5

One Thought at a Time

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2 Corinthians 10:5 — We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.

The baby was asleep on my chest, his little fingers curled around my shirt. The kind of grip that makes you not want to move, even if your arm goes numb. Sunlight slipped through the curtains and stretched across the floor.

The house was quiet for once. There was no monitor beeping, no laundry cycling. It was just the slow, steady rhythm of breathing between the two of us.

You’d think that kind of peace would settle a person’s mind. But mine didn’t seem to get the memo.

I was in postpartum, and even in the calm, there was noise. Not the kind you can shush with a lullaby—just thoughts that crept in uninvited. Some were small, like wondering if I’d fed him long enough. Others were heavier, the kind that made me question if I was cut out for this at all.

One afternoon, I sat cross-legged on the living room floor surrounded by burp cloths and bottles and baby socks that never seemed to match. I remember feeling like I was drowning in my own head. Then, almost out of nowhere, I remembered something my pastor once said:

“You don’t have to believe every thought that passes through your mind.”

It sounded too simple to help, but it did. I closed my eyes right there, took a deep breath, and whispered a quiet thank-you to God. The longer I sat with that truth, the lighter it felt.

I realized I’d been treating every anxious thought like it was the voice of reason. But not everything I think deserves to be treated like the truth.

So I decided to start paying attention. When a thought came that sounded harsh or afraid, I held it up to what I knew about God and His Word. If it didn’t sound like Him—if it didn’t carry peace or mercy—I’d let it go. If it did, I’d hold onto it. That was my new rule.

That’s when 2 Corinthians 10:5 came to mind — “We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.”

So I decided to start paying attention. When a thought came that sounded harsh or afraid, I held it up to what I knew about God and His Word. If it didn’t sound like Him—if it didn’t carry peace or mercy—I’d let it go. If it did, I’d hold onto it. That was my new rule.

It wasn’t perfect. No, some days I forgot. Some days I didn’t have the strength to test a single thought. But little by little, the noise started to fade.

Now, the house is far from quiet. There are still toys everywhere, cries from the monitor, and always some responsibility to handle. But my mind? It feels steady again. Not because the thoughts stopped coming, but because I finally learned which ones to believe.

And maybe that’s something you need too. Maybe your mind has been chaotic lately, and you don’t know what to do. If so, start small. Trade one anxious word for one good one.

And do it again tomorrow. Because God’s words have a way of clearing the clutter. They always do.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What kind of thoughts tend to take up the most space in your mind during stressful seasons?
  • How does 2 Corinthians 10:5 challenge the way you think about your inner thought life?
  • When you feel anxious or unworthy, what truth from God’s Word can you use to “take that thought captive”?
  • Can you remember a time when replacing a fearful thought with God’s truth brought peace to your heart?
  • What’s one small step you can take today to filter your thoughts through faith instead of fear?
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This Is Not God’s First Rodeo

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2 Corinthians 10:5 – “We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.”

I was ten years old the first time I saw a trick rider up close, and I could hardly breathe for how bad I wanted to be her.

It was rodeo night in Winnsboro, Louisiana. The spotlight swept across the dirt as the music kicked up and the trick riders took the field. They twirled lassos, stood on galloping horses, flipped and flew like they were born in the saddle. Their hair trailed behind them like ribbons. The crowd roared, and I sat still, wide-eyed and smitten.

The minute we got home, I found a rope and made it my mission. I swung it over my head until my arms ached. I practiced spinning it on the ground and tried, again and again, to jump in and out like the woman in the spotlight.

I gave it hours. Days. I got rope burns, blisters, and more than one scolding for flinging it too close to the furniture.

My daddy loved rodeos too. If he was not on the tractor or the combine, we were on the road—to Monroe, Crossett, Jackson—anywhere a rodeo could be found. We never missed a chance, and every time the trick riders came out, I felt that spark light up again. I would go home, dust off my rope, and try one more time.

But I never did master that thing. Somewhere along the way, the dream started to dim. It got too hard, and it was not the rope that wore me out—it was the thoughts that crept in. You are not made for this. You will never get it right. I listened. And eventually, I let go.

So no, I never became a Trick Rider.

But years later, I found myself back in those same small towns. Only this time, I was pursuing a different kind of calling. God opened doors I never saw coming in southern media. I got to work with farmers and cowboys and stand in the very heart of the culture I once dreamed of performing in.

No, it was not what I pictured at ten years old, but it was good. More than good. It was full of purpose. Still, I wonder what might have happened if I had not let discouragement write the ending to that first dream. Could God have done even more if I had held on just a little longer?

So here is what I want to tell you: if there is a dream in your heart, do not hand it over to negativity. When your mind starts to wander—when those discouraging thoughts circle in close—fix your focus. Lasso the thought. Take it captive before it takes root and give it back to God

No, you do not need to be perfect. You just need to trust God.

He is not afraid of the size of your dream. And remember—He is not new to this. This is not His first rodeo.

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Reject Lies, Embrace Truth

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“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.”

2 Corinthians 10:5

It is hard to put into words how the lies in my mind can sometimes take over. For years, they had come uninvited. “You’re not loved. You’re irrelevant. Nobody cares about you.”

They were just thoughts—small, passing ones.  But over time, they started to sound like truth. I had never thought much about it until one day when I was talking to my friend Brenda.

We were sitting at her kitchen table, the scent of fresh coffee curling in the air, when I finally admitted it.

“I know God calls me loved, chosen, and worthy,” I said, “but… I don’t always feel like it.”

Brenda set her mug down and leaned in. “Lisa, have you ever left honey on the table?”

I frowned.

“Honey,” she repeated. “What happens if you leave it sitting out?”

I shrugged. “Flies come.”

She nodded. “That is what agreeing with the enemy does. When you believe the lies—even just a little—it is like putting honey on the table. It invites the swarm. But you do not have to feed them.”

Tears stung my eyes. I had been trying to fight off the lies for so long, but I had never considered that I was the one allowing them to stay.

Brenda smiled, her voice gentle but firm. “You need to stop agreeing with the wrong things. And start agreeing with the right ones.”

That night, as I lay in bed, the lies tried again. But instead of letting them sit, I whispered truth into the dark.

I am seen. I am enough. I am held by God.

And I will keep saying it—because agreement matters.

What have you been agreeing with? And what might change if you started speaking God’s truth instead?

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