By Kat Silverglate © 2026
“If you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.”
Roald Dahl
If you are… let’s say… in your very early sixties. Hypothetically of course. And you have this recurring negative thought. You wonder whether you’ll ever truly believe you are completely free to just go for it with God. Maybe it’s that thing that you know God made you to do. But you’re thinking, maybe you’re too old or too ugly or too disorganized or too tired or too much of an I-don’t-know-where-to-start kinda person. Or you just can’t figure out how to get past your perfectionistic need to know in advance how you are going to make this thing as excellent in real life as you imagine it in your dreams. Or you think if you really go for it, people might think it’s silly or you might get rejected or, you might not be able to pull it off, or… well, you’d rather not say the other stuff that screams megaphone-like in your head when you spend time doing everything ELSE but this thing the God of the universe chose to stir up in your ridiculous heart.
God might, hypothetically of course, in response, decide to send you an 82-year-young golden girl named Diana Timmons who is absolutely going for it at the advent of her ninth decade of life. Not because she doesn’t struggle with the same and similar resistance, but because one of the golden threads of her one ridiculous life has become so absurdly clear that it shines out of her earthen vessel like sunbeams. She can’t help holding it up for the world to see: “Can you believe what God can do? And He says He can do this for anybody. An-y-bo-dy.”
If Diana Timmons didn’t exist, we’d have to make her up. Seriously folks. Her real-life story sounds so made up, so embellished, so spun that you find yourself wanting it to be true simply because of the fatal blow the punch line delivers to the enemies of our souls -- hopelessness and despair.
We could start with her highly successful Irish-twins [born less than a year apart]: first, her incredibly intelligent daughter, a PhD psychologist, of whom she is wildly proud; and second, her lawyer son, who worked for Ronald Reagan in Santa Monica and later our 43rd President George H. W. Bush in the White House. But this isn’t a story about her beloved Irish twins, or presidents or famous white houses. Not directly, anyway.
Or, we could start with a recent interview where she casually explains that she’s in Nashville to attend the red-carpet premiere of the Lionsgate movie I Can Only Imagine - 2. The movie is about some of the suffering that birthed the writing of the Grammy-nominated, RIAA Platinum Certified, K-Love Song of the Year -- “Even If.” The movie features her now 50-year-old son, Tim Timmons, who was diagnosed with terminal cancer in his 20’s, and Bart Millard, lead vocalist of the band Mercy Me who was struggling with his own son’s chronic illness. With others, they birthed a contemporary ballad that gave them and listeners a singable framework for hope despite suffering that continues in the face of true belief and relentless prayers. Sounds made up, doesn’t it? Check it out. Her son (by marriage) is played by Milo Ventimiglia, the male lead in This is Us. Oh, and a book too – Waking Up Again by Tim and Hilary Timmons. But this isn’t a story about Tim or Bart or Mercy Me or Hilary or big screen movies or red carpets. Not directly, anyway.
Or we could start with her time with Zig Ziglar or her meeting with Dallas Willard or the five books she co-authored with her 10,000-member mega-church pastor husband (now ex) and how one of those books somehow made it to the Vatican at a time when Pope Francis want-ed to meet non-Catholics who love Jesus, had a heart for the poor and had the attention of the public in some way. How they went to the Vatican with members of the U.S. Senate, folks from Israel and Joel Osteen. But this isn’t a story about the 266th Pontiff, Dallas Willard, Joel Osteen, senators or 4-day trips to Vatican City. Not directly, anyway.
Or we could start with the pilots license she got at 40. Her wedding in Old Jerusalem with 70 in attendance from all over the world. Or the hundreds of people she took to Israel over the course of 13 trips. Or her mission work in Ethiopia, Kenya, Uganda, and Rwanda. Or the founding of a nonprofit called “Joy Please!” at the ripe young age of 79. But this isn’t a story of licenses, destination weddings, holy land trips, mission work or nonprofits. Not directly, anyway.
This is a story about a little golden girl nicknamed Deanie who could do no wrong in her father’s eyes and was deeply loved by her “be excellent at everything you do” mother.
”I’m an only child of two of the most humanly perfect people I’ve ever known. My father was a minister. My mother was a perfectionist because we had to look good for the minister. I came from a burden, really, of looking good all the time. Someone’s always watching you.”
She doesn’t say any of that with even an ounce of negativity toward either parent. To the contrary, to her, they were shining examples of a couple who loved her, each other, and the people they served with such Christ-like excellence, it became, in her eyes, a gallery-worthy portrait of what was described biblically and culturally as the ideal. Something to emulate. Something to aim for.
“You need to put my childhood perspectives in context. My parents were raising me in the 40’s and 50’s. My mother took care of my father in the days when the woman was in the background. She made sure that her husband had his handkerchief perfect in his suit pocket, that his glasses were clean as he left the door, and that he had a wonderful place to come back to. He appreciated every moment of that. They were a unit. They both loved what they did.”
Deanie was never reprimanded for being imperfect. Never berated. Never humiliated or spanked. Never forced into thinking a certain way by her minister father. Yet, she emerged from childhood with some perfectionist behaviors that were at odds with her justified-by-faith-alone spiritual reality. Now at 82, she is separating the golden thread of God’s absolute joy in her and some dark times that left cracks in the hoped-for portrait of perfection hanging in the public gallery of her one ridiculous life.
Raised in a family that served in important positions in the larger structure of a denomination, they were on somewhat of a pedestal. What they did and how they did it was on mega-display. The interesting thing about this ministerial family was the consistency between the way they behaved in public and private. Their behavior was as loving behind closed doors as it was in the glass house of ministry.
The Sabbath went from sundown to sundown. In preparation to pause everything to keep this time set apart for worship, community, and rest, the house was cleaned, the shopping was done, the errands were run. If you forgot to buy eggs, you went without eggs. Makeup and jewelry weren’t allowed. Dress was conservative. On Sabbath they went to worship and then had people over to the house. The intensity of preparation and the unbelievably genuine way her parents loved others led her to see the Sabbath as a day where they "had people over in a perfect manner and loved people in a perfect manner.”
Her father was extraordinary at remembering what people needed, keeping track of them, following up with them, inviting them for a meal. The phrase that was most often used in those interactions was “are you ready?” It was as common as “hello.” But that phrase put fear in her little heart. She didn’t understand it. Over time, she confused it with the rules. No make up. No jewelry. Dressing plainly. Loving people perfectly. She merged “doing” for
God with “being” justified by grace alone. She thought she had to be perfect in her strength to be “ready” for Him.
Because children are often great observers and poor interpreters of what they are seeing or hearing, and perhaps because all faith comes to some extent with opposition from the enemy of our souls, those beliefs were unintentionally reinforced when she was asked to perform or was celebrated for appearing in a certain way. She remembers being teased by other girls because she didn’t have a large variety of outfits for school. Her mother took a
4:00 a.m. shift at a donut shop to earn money so she could dress well. That made managing appearances seem wildly important. She also remembers performing solos at the start of large denominational meetings, standing on what felt like a pedestal, being admired by the crowd. She both loved it [seeing her mother beam with pride and people admiring her as if she was the ‘perfect’ daughter] and hated it for reasons she didn’t understand. On one performance, rebellion rose up. “I sang the song. it came to an end. the pianist stopped and I kept singing. So, she kept playing. I sang the song again. It came to an end. The pianist stopped and I decided to keep singing. Eventually, they had to stop it.” It was a lot of pressure. Her parents didn’t reprimand her. Instead, she became good at self-ridicule when she “messed up.” She became harder and harder on herself; more and more afraid to make mistakes.
When her adult life started, she took the perfect portrait with her. “I had been on a pedestal my whole life and wow did I mess up when I left home.” It started well. She married her high school sweetheart. They got degrees in dentistry and dental hygiene respectively. Moved so he could serve as a dentist in the Air Force during Vietnam. Had two beautiful children, a girl and a boy. Moved to California to start an outrageously successful dental practice. For reasons that aren’t essential to the story, the ten-year marriage disintegrated. The perfect couple from perfect families divorced. The portrait isn’t just tilted at this point, it’s cracked. The shame, heartbreak and loss felt unbearable. Her parents simply loved her through it.
She fell in love again. They married. For reasons that aren’t essential to the story, ten years later, the marriage ended in divorce after a tremendous amount of pain, both for her and her kids. She struggled terribly with guilt over her inability to make things perfect for her children. “There was no illusion of perfect anymore. I felt like I wasn’t enough. Full of grief.” Her house went into foreclosure. A friend in the construction industry encouraged her to get her real estate brokerage license. She worked successfully for 17 years in that field.
And then she met Tim Timmons, Sr. on a trip to Israel. He was a mega-church pastor who had experienced a public fall from grace and was starting again. He was an amazing communicator. People met Jesus when he spoke. Lives changed. Her life changed. She loved his kids like her own when they married. They did ministry all over the world. Wrote books together. He was largely out front and she was the support. The portrait she always had in her mind of her parents; this was it. And then, for reasons that aren’t essential to this story, the picture didn’t just crack, it tore right down the middle.
The weight of it broke her. She cried for two years and physically started to disintegrate. A heart attack, two knee surgeries, four back surgeries. She loved the Lord. Wasn’t bitter or doubtful. But she was deeply in need of joy. One day she looked up and said, “joy please Lord.” She believed God when He said we can have contentment in the midst of suffering. She believed that peace and contentment are not dependent on circumstances. So, she asked God for it like someone would ask you to pass the salt – salt please. And peace started to fall. Joy started to rise. The phone started to ring. People asked her to do funerals. Speak at events. Tell her story and what God did in the midst of suffering. At 79, she started a nonprofit dedicated to celebrating the mystery of constant joy.
She decided to leave perfectionism and fear of making mistakes behind on this next leg of her trip through her one ridiculous life. Perfectionists, she discovered, need a 24/7 clean-up crew. They constantly need to be the maid who manages the impressions of others, to cover-up the ‘mistakes’ and the oopses that are inevitable in growth; inevitable in life. She sees now that Perfect didn’t need her or anybody else to be His maid.
Perfect already has a made, spelled M-A-D-E.
“For by that one offering He forever made perfect those who are being made holy.”
Hebrews 10:14 NLT
We were never meant to bear the burden of perfection. Never meant to add doing to being. Christ bore that on the cross. We were designed to be earthen vessels full of cracks and fissures being sanctified as we grow in Christ. She is indeed a golden girl refined in the fire of suffering. Her faith has been tested and she has emerged holding the golden thread of joy. Her good thoughts about the right placement of “perfect” in her one ridiculous life makes joy shoot out of her vessel like sunbeams.
Our Responsiveness Challenge:
In your mission pack, you will find a green sticker that says MAY and three strands with gold thread. Start with the black/gold thread. When we are going through our darkest times, God is bringing out the gold in us through the testing of our faith. While we MAY continue to live the rest of our lives with that refined gold wrapped up in old behaviors that don’t serve us well because they are not grounded in biblical reality; we MAY alternatively decide to separate those old behaviors from the gold He has produced in us. He will still love us if we struggle with things like perfectionism, but why would we decide to keep our new self wrapped up in the old self's ways? It’s exhausting! We don’t have to hide our dark threads or parade every detail out either. Thank God Diana didn’t. Her courage in sharing some of her darkest times and not just the highlight reel at the start of her story helps us all see that we are in the process of being sanctified. AND there is gold there in the form of faith that has been tested and sparkles for all to see so that others may know the perfecter of our faith and glorify Him.
Now let's hold the white/gold thread. This is a better picture of where we are in Christ. He is in us bringing out the gold. Walking with us as our faith is tested. Tie a knot in either end of that strand to remind you not to see yourself separately. He’s in and with you. In Christ, your faith is entwined with His perfect love.
Finally, you have a plain gold thread. That is us when we do things in our own strength. When we put ourselves up there on the pedestal and celebrate all we have done. When we make our sparkle and shine about us and our efforts. we MAY continue to do that, but it’s exhausting; a counterfeit god that will never be satisfied. Or, you MAY join our ridiculous challenge to look at the gold God has brought forth through the testing of your faith [can you start a list?] and identify old ways that don’t serve you well [can you maybe think of starting a list?]. Meditate on both each day for 30 days. Ask the Lord to bring things up into your mind.
Or, YOU MAY just want to start praying like Diana did – Joy Please – and see what God sends your way. Or, why not look at her summation as she disentangles the old self from the golden thread of joy:
“I thought it was my job to make everybody joyful, but it’s my job to realize how important I am to God… If I absorb everything he’s given me, it will shine out according to His will. You know… this little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. And it’s taken away a huge amount of responsibility.” Diana Timmons, Episode 77, The Ridiculous Hour Podcast.
Amen? Amen!
