Excerpt
Dare to Be True
1Truth About Feeling BoundI nearly blew up our house.
Let me rewind. I married my best friend, Grant Troutt, a few years ago. Our wedding day was dreamy, and our honeymoon was, shall I say steamy?! (Well, if you don’t count the food poisoning incident, but that’s a story for later.) After our blissful honeymoon, we packed our bags and moved into our first home together in Waco, Texas. Neither of us had owned a home before. “This will be so fun!” we said. We were super excited.
And super clueless.
There were so many things we didn’t know. We didn’t know how to change the water filter on our fridge or the filters on the air-conditioning unit, how to set up auto pay for utilities, or what to do with our terrifying bug problem. Maybe you’re judging us right now, and that’s okay. I own it: We were ignorant. Or maybe everyone’s first home situation is challenging. I don’t know. Regardless, it seemed like everything that could go wrong went wrong. We had massive spiders in our house and mice in our garage. The pest control team informed us the spiders were brown recluse spiders. I’m sorry, sir, WHAT? The ones that can kill you?! We had mold in our shower that refused to go away. Our drains stopped working and our shower flooded the bathroom. There were cracks in our ceiling. The water was so bad it gave us sensitive teeth and corroded our silverware.
One house problem outweighed them all, and even though we couldn’t figure out the cause, it was majorly affecting our health. Grant’s symptoms were dizziness, memory loss, fatigue, headaches, and brain fog. I had it easier, with nausea and a mild headache—but those were no picnic either. We were newlyweds, new to the city, starting a new job, and managing a new home. So when we told folks what was happening, several joked, “Welcome to marriage!” This was not what we wanted to hear.
Grant suggested we move into a hotel for a few days because every time we were home, we would feel sick, but as soon as we left the house, we would feel better. We decided to book a few nights at a local hotel so we could think clearly and figure out what to do. Excellent idea! It was like our honeymoon all over again, minus the food poisoning! But as soon as we went back to the house, we felt sick again. A place that was supposed to be our sanctuary had become a danger zone. It seemed to be sucking the life right out of us.
We’d been in our house for six months and had been visited by a seemingly endless parade of service providers: a water specialist, mold specialist, HVAC repairman, and appliance repairman. Then Grant suggested we call a plumber. I thought, How could a clogged toilet be creating all our health problems? But since that was the only type of repairman we hadn’t yet consulted, I made the call.
The plumber arrived wearing a fully loaded tool belt. He walked around holding an electronic device I’d never seen before. It was like a scene out of National Treasure. Grant was on speakerphone since he was at work, and I kept him in the loop on what was happening by asking the plumber questions.
“What is that beeper thing doing, sir?” I asked.
“Checking for gas leaks,” he said cryptically. “So far, so good.”
A steady, reassuring beep sounded from the plumber’s tool. Then he got into our living room and the beeping increased in intensity.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“There’s a gas leak in here somewhere,” he said. When he got to the fireplace, the beeper screamed. He turned to me. “Where’s your fireplace wall key?” he asked.
“There’s a remote with an Off button—is that what you mean?”
“No, that remote turns off the flame.” He ran his hand along the mantel until he picked up a brass tool. “This key turns off the gas.” He demonstrated with a swift turn. “If you don’t turn the key, the gas just keeps going.”
“Going where?”
“Into the air. Of your house.”
My mouth fell open.
“When did you last use the key to turn on the fireplace?”
“When we moved in. Six months ago!”
His eyebrows shot up. “And you haven’t turned it off since then? Good thing you didn’t light a candle. Could’ve blown the whole house up.”
I had indeed lit a candle. Multiple candles, multiple times. But I kept that part to myself.
How had we not known gas was poisoning us for six months? I asked, “Shouldn’t we have been able to smell it?”
“Methane gas is odorless,” he explained.
I looked up methane gas poisoning online as he drove away. Symptoms include brain fog, headaches, nausea, long-term memory loss, and death. I told Grant what Google said.
“Good thing you called that plumber.”
It’s kind of a funny story now. We caught it before any long-term harm could be done. The headaches and nausea did go away, and I’m glad the chronic unease, misery, and stress of it all is behind us now.
Grant still won’t turn on the fireplace.
But here’s the thing: Because we had ongoing sickness symptoms, Grant and I knew something wasn’t right in our house. Our bodies needed oxygen, but we were getting toxic fumes instead. Where we were supposed to feel free and safe, we felt sick and stuck.
And it wouldn’t have been enough to medicate our symptoms or spend the rest of our lives treating them. We needed to be free from the toxicity. We needed to kill what was killing us. And so do you.
Our entire generation is experiencing ongoing symptoms of sickness. It might not be methane gas–related, but we do wrestle with anxiety, work pressures, mental health struggles, family and relational tension, self-doubt, self-hatred, depression, suicidal ideation, body shame, loneliness, chronic stress, identity and gender confusion, and hopelessness. And then, to cope and numb, we often turn to vices like alcohol, vaping, under- or overeating, social media, binge-watching shows alone, busyness and overworking, shopping, pornography, masturbation, and sex.
The problem is that we often can’t identify what is making us sick. We feel bound and powerless, but we don’t know why, just like how with this gas leak, Grant and I felt the symptoms and the weight of it but couldn’t identify the problem. Maybe you can relate. You feel stuck. You feel like a shell of yourself. You are living with something that is slowly sucking the life right out of you. And you just want to be free.
That’s ToxicMaybe you can’t yet identify the underlying problem you’re dealing with, but you can identify symptoms like anxiety, hopelessness, lack of purpose, stress and overwhelm, apathy, depression, or loneliness. Maybe that’s what drew you to this book.
We often read books like this because we know God has more for us, and we need change, but deep down we feel like we don’t have what it takes. Maybe the reason you chose this book is because you feel bound, broken, confused, or stuck. Maybe you are dissatisfied and defeated, but you know there is more for your life. Maybe this book is in your hands because you are searching for truth and answers. Wherever you find yourself right now, I want you to know that you were made for a life of joy, peace, purpose, and freedom. You can break free from what has been breaking you.
You can break free from what has been breaking you.
Maybe you have made decisions you deeply regret, and you live in deep shame. You feel unclean. Maybe you were taken advantage of by someone you trusted. Maybe you gave your purity to someone you thought would love you. Maybe you had an abortion. Or you have been addicted to pornography, impure thoughts and fantasies, and masturbation. Maybe you have shared naked pictures digitally. Or you’ve hooked up with someone of the same gender, or you’ve had thoughts about it. Maybe you hate what you see when you look in the mirror. Maybe you deal with fear and comparison.
I pray that, in this book, you will feel safe and seen. And that you will realize, if you don’t already know, there is a better way to live. We don’t have to keep living with toxicity. There is a way that leads to hope, confidence, joy, purpose, and freedom. A way that leads to a deeper relationship with Jesus. There is a way that leads to deeper friendships and connections with those you love. A way that leads to greater respect, satisfaction, and love for yourself. If that way hasn’t been part of your story up until this point, I pray it’s your story by the time you finish the last chapter.
With all the mixed messaging, misinformation, and AI-induced deception in the world today, you may wonder, What is truth anyway? What is real anymore? What can I even trust? I don’t blame you for wondering. I’ve felt the same way. My aim in writing this is not to paint false realities or confusing messages that appear to be true and loving, but that only leave you in bondage and deep shame. My goal is to point you to the truth—the truth that leads to a freer you.
