When Politics Threatens to Divide the Bonds of Friendship

When Politics Threatens to Divide the Bonds of Friendship

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I’m a morning runner. I awake before the sun rises and pound the pavement before daybreak. Working out before dawn requires discipline or, in my case, accountability.

For the last several years, I’ve met a handful of devoted friends for early runs. In the blanket of morning darkness, we congregate at the local trail. Within minutes of arrival, we canter down the path. Headlights attached to our foreheads illuminate our route and warn of fallen debris.

The mileage flies by as the company makes the time go quickly. We spend those precious miles chatting about all sorts of things. Our conversation fluctuates between the mundane and the meaningful. In one breath, we can discuss everything from fashion to faith.

Within the last several months, I’ve started to run with Beth. She arrives for runs as if she stepped off the pages of a fitness magazine. Beth radiates beauty, and not just the sort that’s skin deep. Her deep-rooted faith and fun personality pours meaning and brightness into her words. As sisters in Christ, I savor Beth’s sage advice and biblical counsel.

On a recent run, the discussion ventured into politics. Beth divulged her thoughts. My eyes widen in disbelief. I was shocked as our opinions differed greatly. As one who detests conflict, I anticipated holding my tongue over our differences.

Yet, my hold didn’t stick.

I couldn’t help myself.

I unleashed my views.

While I was careful to maintain a non-combative tone, an awkwardness hung over our remaining miles. Clearly, we weren’t seeing eye to eye.

We finished the run and parted ways, and I spent the ride home rehashing our conversation. As fellow believers, how could we differ so wildly in our viewpoints? I pondered how Jesus would want me to handle our divide. How would He want me to move forward with Beth?

While 2020 may seem uniquely historic in its political discord, Jesus experienced a similar tumultuous climate at the height of His ministry. It was a divisive time as the Roman empire ruled over Israel with an iron fist. The Jewish people varied in their response. Some Jews worked for the Romans collecting taxes from their fellow countrymen, while others vehemently opposed Roman occupation and enacted violence on the Roman soldiers.

In such a contentious environment, one would assume Jesus would stick with compatible people.

Not Jesus.

When Jesus selected His twelve disciples, He added two men on opposite sides of the political spectrum. In His inner circle, He included Matthew, a tax collector, and Simon, a zealot who resisted Roman rule.

In modern terms, I imagine this is like placing contrasting political pundits next to each other at the Thanksgiving table.

Clearly, this was a recipe for disaster.

Why didn’t Jesus just pick a side? Avoid hanging out with those with such strong opposing opinions? Surely it would have been easier for the disciples to be a like-minded crew.

I imagine Matthew and Simon engaged in a few heated discussions, but it didn’t seem to separate the men or the disciples. They discovered a unity in Christ that was bigger than their discord over politics. These twelve men were linked in their love and commitment to Jesus.

Only Jesus.

When thinking about how to move forward with Beth, I ponder the familiar adage, “What would Jesus do?” I believe Jesus would encourage a friendship between two women with diverging opinions. God put Beth into my life as a friend and sister in Christ. He wants what unifies us to be greater than what divides.

We sit on different sides of the political spectrum, but we serve the same Lord.

We may disagree about who sits in the Oval Office, but we agree on who sits on the heavenly throne.

We don’t see the world the same, but we see each other as fellow daughters of Christ.

Politics may divide, but in Christ we find our common ground.

When You Don’t Want to Run the Race

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At one time or another in your life, and maybe that time is right now, you’ll feel flattened and despondent from what is being asked of you. In a season when I felt the same, I shared what I was going through with my friend, Alli. The crux of my agony and angst was this: I was plumb terrified to walk the road the Lord was asking me to walk. I didn’t want to do it — I didn’t know if I could do it.

Alli is one of those gals whom God uses to lift the Rockies right out of their mountain chain through her words and prayers. On this particular call, as I relayed the nitty gritty details of this particular situation, she offered me a treasure box by way of a story she had read that I have thought about no less than 837 times since she told it — a story about a woman named Pennie Shephard.

As a young teen, Pennie fell and broke her tailbone. And as a result of the accident, she suffered chronic pain well into her adult years. The pain she endured felt as if someone was stabbing her in the back, and she couldn’t even get out of bed in the morning without her husband’s help. To sleep through the night, she tried ice packs, heating pads, and other avenues to no avail. From sunup to sundown, life was agony, and Pennie felt overwhelmed and depressed.

Pennie’s doctor diagnosed her with post trauma arthritis and degenerative disc disease, and there was no cure outside of a miracle. So, not a day went by when Pennie didn’t pray for that miracle. One morning as she was praying, she heard these words in her heart: Run to your miracle. Pennie found this odd because any movement at all brought no small amount of pain. She’d never been a runner, and the thought of picking it up now terrified her.

Still, she vowed to do so and enter a race. Since a marathon seemed to be the race of all races, she committed to training for one. With her family’s support and doctor’s permission, Pennie pressed on and pushed through unimaginable suffering all while watching her diet and arising at 3am each day to get in a long run before her work and family responsibilities began. The training brought no relief from the pain, but Pennie . . . “was determined to pay the price of progress and to not give up.”

Shortly before the marathon, Pennie’s knee went out. The night before the race, she could barely walk. Still, she was bent on getting to the starting line, even if that meant someone would carry her there.

The next day, Pennie hobbled up to the starting line with Scripture passages written all over her arms and legs by her husband and daughters. As she stood at the starting line, she realized that while her knee hurt, her back didn’t hurt at all! Her doctor, who acted as her trainer, suggested they begin the race by walking to test out the knee. A mile and a half later, Pennie knew she could run the race. And she did — she crossed the finish line seven hours later.

In Pennie’s own words, “I did not receive my miracle at the finish line. I got my miracle at the starting line. All I had to do was show up. It doesn’t take running a marathon to get a miracle. In my case, it took obedience and commitment.”

On that phone call with me, Alli summed up the story with these words: “While we’re all called to finish the race God assigns each of us to run, the fascinating thing about Pennie’s story here is the gift God gave her in simple obedience. When we’re faithful to follow through on what God asks us to do, we may not even have to run the race before we receive the blessing. Stay faithful to prepare for this race, Kristen. Keep going and do not quit!”

Maybe like me you don’t want to run the race God is asking of you either. Your heart isn’t in it, let alone your entire body. I get it, I really do. But maybe we can just do the next thing to prepare for it anyway. Even if doing so feels like pushing a boulder up Pike’s Peak, we prepare just the same. Maybe you’ll be given the miracle before the race even starts. But if you aren’t, you’ll be prepared and set up for success just the same.

If life feels a little (or a lot) like agony right now, keep going. The pain is real. But it’s also the price of progress. Keep going.

Do not give up.

We can make it to the starting line — and to the finish line, too.

Remarkably and Wondrously Made

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For it was you who created my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I will praise you
because I have been remarkably and wondrously made.
Your works are wondrous,
and I know this very well.
My bones were not hidden from you
when I was made in secret,
when I was formed in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw me when I was formless;
all my days were written in your book and planned
before a single one of them began.
Psalm 139:13-16 (CSB)

Friends, what a year it has been so far. Today, let’s take a moment to step away from the chaos to quiet our hearts and remember Whose we are.

We were wondrously made by the hands of our Creator God, who formed the world with love and breathed life into each of us. As we sit and read these words, as we run errands, take care of parents or children, as we drink our coffee or tea, take note of your breath, pause and be aware of His presence, and praise God for how He’s made you good.

Lord, thank You for creating us with beauty and wonder. We praise You for choosing to dwell with us and within us through Your Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Being Brave Even When We Feel Afraid

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I honestly don’t know if there has ever been a time when I felt brave. But also, will we ever truly feel brave to do the things God calls us to do? Really, I don’t think it matters. We are not called to to live based solely off our feelings because they can come and go and change depending our circumstances.

Instead, we are called to live according to the Word of God. His Word never changes. It stands the test of time, and it holds true for us regardless of how we feel.

A couple of years ago, my word for the year was “more.” I wanted more of God, more of His promises, more of His presence manifested in my life, more of His purposes revealed. I wanted to serve, give, and devote more to Him. But sometime during that year, my word shifted to the word “brave.”

The truth is, I’m not a risk taker. I am Miss Play-It-Safe. I’m practical and logical, and I think things through dozens of times before I ever come to a decision. But God had so many new opportunities mapped out for me that year that required me to be brave. He placed me in spaces and with people who challenged me because He wanted to enlarge my capacity. And in order for Him to do that, I would need to answer His call to be brave.

The story of Gideon in Judges 6-8 chronicles an ordinary man called to be brave by an extraordinary God. In the beginning of chapter 6, we find that the Lord has given the Israelites over to the Midianites because they had done evil in His sight. But God, being loving, forgiving, and compassionate, heard their cries and decided to rescue them through Gideon. God sent an angel to find him, where he was hiding from the Midianites in a wine press. He had no idea what would come next.

When the angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon, he said, “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.”
Judges 6:12 (NIV)

Gideon replied with every excuse he could:
If you’re with us, why is this happening?
Why have You abandoned us?
My clan is the weakest!
I am the least in my family.

Does that sound familiar? I know I give God every reason why I can’t do the thing He has called me to do, and He responds to me as He did to Gideon:

Go in the strength you have.
I will be with you.
Do not be afraid.
You are mighty.

What an encouragement to know that God sees us as mighty warriors! My prayer is that we learn to stand strong on the foundation that God understands who we are and yet still calls us to do great things. We can trust that if God calls us to do something, He will also equip us to do it. Because we are in Him and He is with us, He calls us brave.

In what area of your life is God calling you to be brave? What is holding you back?

Where Are You, God?

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I’ve been asking God where He is.

On Sunday, my church family sang these words: I am chosen, not forsaken. I am who You say I am. You are for me, not against me. I am who You say I am.

I hung my head and raised my hands and wondered if faith sometimes looks like singing through the sadness, like coming empty but showing up anyway.

Although there have been lessons worth learning along the way, this summer has felt much more like the wilderness than the Promised Land. I have more questions than answers, and my hands hold more unknowns than certainties. But somewhere in the desert, somewhere in between what once was and what will be, I’ve started to ask a familiar question in a new way.

There’s an old note on my phone from nearly four years ago, several rambling sentences about John 11 and Mary’s short, honest, and vulnerable question. For years, this familiar story has continued to draw me in, leading me back to her words. I’ve read the story over and over again, wondering what I was missing, why I couldn’t get away from her question.

In the middle of her deep sadness and disappointment, frustration and confusion, Jesus comes and Mary asks, “Where were You?” In other words, Why didn’t You come sooner? Why didn’t You change this, prevent this, fix this, heal this? Where were You when I needed You?

I’ve said those things. I’ve wondered where He went and why His timeline differs so greatly from my own. I’ve walked laps around hospital hallways, and I’ve been the one wheeled into an operating room. I’ve said heartbreaking goodbyes, struggled with singleness, wrestled in the dark through night terrors, and fought against the message He gave me to share.

I’ve asked why.

I recently went back to John 11, this time reading the story aloud. Once. Twice. And then I heard it, my own voice reading “Where were You?” in a different tone. Still desperate, but eager. Still confused, but hopeful and expectant. Could it be?

Maybe, instead of pointing a finger, Mary was looking for fingerprints.

What if we said those same three words not as an accusation, but as a hope-full question, asking Him to reveal to us where He was in the middle of the mess?

Where were You, Lord? I believe that You never truly left. You were always here, right here, present and faithful and good. Show me Your fingerprints. Give me eyes to see the thread of Your goodness running through.

I’ve asked why plenty of times. Now, I’m learning instead to ask where.

When I look back over the story He’s given me, flip through the pages and consider the chapters I’ve lived, there’s one constant running through: His presence.

He’s the pillar of cloud in the day, leading the way as a Guide through the wilderness. When night falls and darkness closes in, He’s the pillar of fire lighting up the sky. He’s the God who comes near and stays close, who sits with us in our sadness and comforts us with His love. He’s the provider of manna and mercy each and every morning, always enough for whatever the day may bring.

He’s with us in the big and the small, leaving His fingerprints on every page of the story, forever reminding us: Remember My goodness here. Look around. Do you see Me? I’ll hang the clouds in the sky and fling stars into the velvet night all so that you remember in both daylight and darkness, I’m with you always.

When I look back on each season, I see a thousand reasons to believe that He really can work all things for good. This is my story and my song, and so I’m asking, “Where were You?” even as I look for fingerprints. I’m trusting that He isn’t done working and declaring that as I’m waiting, I’ll keep on watching. He’s already here, present and good, faithful and kind in every valley and on every mountaintop and every step in between.

Where have you seen God’s fingerprints lately?

Trusting His Plan Even When We Don’t Want To

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I am a big fan of watching home makeover shows. Fixing up old homes, renovating a space, making places in your home work better, organizing — I love all of it! Not only are they fun to watch, but I love the inspiration that comes from them. There is always something great I can take away and use in my own home.

I was watching one of my favorite shows the other night when something struck me. It happens time and again. The homeowners talk with the designer, excitedly telling her what they don’t like about their home, what isn’t working, what they need fixed, and what they would like out of their home. The designer takes that info and goes to work, designing what they want and need. She meets back with them to go over her plans, and there’s that face. The excitement is gone, and the couple look at each other like, “Um, no.” They question everything they just heard, and they aren’t on board with her plan. They don’t think certain things will work. They think something is going to look bad. They just don’t want to listen.

I look at the designer’s face when this happens, and she doesn’t understand the opposition. She’s the professional — the one who was hired to do the job. She put her experience, schooling, and expertise into creating a great plan, but then she’s not trusted.

How many of us, including me, treat God like this at times? He asks us to trust Him with His plan for our lives. He asks us to listen to His voice and follow His way. But sometimes we just don’t want to. We aren’t sure His plan is what we want or if it fits into our own plans. We think we know better, and we want to do things our way instead. We don’t want to budge. We want an easier way. We doubt Him and question His instructions.

It would be easy to trust and follow God if we could see His plans, right?

It takes great courage not to know what is ahead and to step out in faith to trust God, listen to Him, and follow His plan. His journey for us won’t always be easy or make us happy in the moment, but He has a purpose even when we can’t see it. He loves us so much, and His plan for our lives is good.

But we have to do more than just hear or read God’s Word. We must truly listen and follow it; we have to do what He says.

Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.
James 1:22 (NIV)

We are called to listen to Him, one day at a time, and obey His will even if we don’t understand what is to come.

Most of the time in these makeover shows, the homeowners do come around at the end. When they see the completed job, they totally love what was done in their home, and often with tears in their eyes, they say it looks better than they would have even imagined. They see then that they should have trusted the professional all along.

God has a wonderful plan for your life, and it is better than anything you thought you wanted or needed. We don’t need to question it and doubt Him. Listen, follow, and trust God’s expertise even when it’s hard — especially when it’s hard.

However, as it is written: “What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived”  — the things God has prepared for those who love Him.
1 Corinthians 2:9 (NIV)

Even in the Midst of the Storm, He Is Your Refuge

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As I sat in the waiting room of the emergency department that mid-December evening, I tried not to give in to the scary thoughts swirling through my mind. Hours later, as I laid still for the CT scan to check for abnormalities in the blood vessels of my brain, I was too anxious to pray. All the Scripture verses I knew fled my mind as I tried not to imagine the worst. Instead, I dredged up my faith and repeatedly chanted to myself, “Thank You, God. Everything is okay.”

It wasn’t a stroke, but the diagnosis didn’t really sink in until the next morning when I was brushing my teeth. I couldn’t spit out the toothpaste but sort of dribbled instead.

Bell’s palsy.

Unilateral facial paralysis.

I couldn’t eat or drink without embarrassing myself. My smile had become a mockery of its former self; only the right side of my face moved. My left eye streamed pretty much non-stop. I couldn’t raise my left eyebrow, and my hearing on that side sounded strangely muffled.

I took an extended sick leave from work. The days stretched out before me, punctuated only by sleep and the frequent beeps of my phone’s alarm reminding me to take my medication. My parents had kindly taken my kids until Christmas so I could have time to rest.

In the early days, I offered up desperate prayers and pleas to God for a quick and full healing despite knowing that recovery could take up to a year.

I was so sure that my case would be different. But when the days turned into weeks and I didn’t recover as quickly as I expected, I flatlined spiritually. I had no motivation or inclination to pray or read my Bible. I felt numb and alone.

January arrived and for the first time in years, I started a new year without any personal, business, or career goals. I had only one burning desire: full medical recovery.

I’m blessed to have a job where I can work from home, so after six weeks off, I was able to resume work. I was not recovered but no longer “unwell.” During this time, I began to see tiny improvements. For example, I could roll my upper lip, which also meant that I could use a straw. This was progress!

Then the pandemic hit. The government announced a lockdown and schools closed. My husband is a frontline worker, and my parents were out of the country. I felt distraught. How would I cope with working and looking after two children singlehandedly while also trying to recover? The doctors had stressed the importance of resting and taking things easy. How was that going to happen with two energetic children underfoot?

I felt as if I’d been journeying slowly through a dark valley but had suddenly became stuck with no way out.

It wasn’t until halfway through June, six months into my recovery and still in the middle of lockdown, that I came to a startling realization: despite having many days when I felt harried by all that was expected of me, I was somehow coping. Despite my spiritual numbness, God’s presence had been with me through the dark times, though I didn’t always feel it.

The road to recovery is taking longer than I ever expected, but each day I see His hand perform a new miracle, in the twitch of an eyelid or in a smile that’s slowly starting to tilt the right way, and I’m encouraged.

One of my favorite verses from Scripture says, “I will never [under any circumstances] desert you [nor give you up nor leave you without support, nor will I in any degree leave you helpless], nor will I forsake or let you down or relax My hold on you [assuredly not]!” (Hebrews 13:5 AMP)

Through this scary and overwhelming year, there were times when I wondered if God was still listening. But looking back, I see that I couldn’t have made it this far if He had let go.

I was never alone.

This season has given a new depth to my faith. Each day is a deliberate act of trusting and leaning into God’s rest. Despite the raging storms that cause my heart to shake, I know that “I’m in the shadow of the Almighty whose power no enemy can withstand” (Psalm 91:2 AMP). What great comfort to dwell in His secret place and have Him as my refuge.

From the Soil of Dead Dreams

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Build homes, and plan to stay. Plant gardens, and eat the food they produce. . . . And work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, for its welfare will determine your welfare.
Jeremiah 29:5,7 (NLT)

We were so sure about the call to ministry on our lives even before we got married. It was what connected us as a couple, the thing that took us from one address and assignment to another, and eventually to Germany together. Germany was one of our last stops, the last clear call we heard from God, our last hope to see if something in ministry might actually work out for us in the long haul. But what had once felt like the greatest purpose of our lives — both as individuals and as a couple — started to feel like wearing clothes in the wrong size. We wrestled to make them fit, constantly adjusting and readjusting the way we looked at the future.

After Germany, we moved back to the States, and after another year of full-time ministry, we left it. We stepped into a landscape of wilderness and silence. We began living lives we didn’t imagine we would be living, in a place I never wanted to live in.

We clung to each other as we wrestled through the slow grief of our dreams dying. There were days of melancholy and longing, repeated prayers of pleading to be called back to what was, tearful nights, and quiet, lonely dinners. The days piled up one after another, seemingly void of purpose. The nagging feeling that we were doing something wrong, or that we ourselves were wrong and not good enough to be in ministry, followed me around like an ugly shadow.

I wish I could say it became easier after a few rough months. But the death of anything never comes easy. And for years the grief of those dead dreams kept coming back without invitation. But we tended to the simple things right in front of us. We started noticing the neighbors around us. We moved toward the ones we didn’t choose, the ones chosen for us. These tiny things became our seeds. We watered them with tears of grief, the ache of discontent, and slivers of hope. And over time our tiny, imperfect offering of dreams come undone became a beautiful garden. It was in this garden that I began to learn how to be still and to receive. This unexpected garden began to nourish us.

I see now what I couldn’t see ten years ago: the death of my dream was not the death of God’s dreams for me.

God, this doesn’t look like I thought it would, and it’s breaking my heart. Yet I’m in a place of learning how to be still and how to receive, and my hands are open to Your plan. Nourish me in this unexpected garden and help me see that the death of this dream is not the death of Your dreams for me. Amen.

Written by Tasha Jun, as published in Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay

Our newest devotional, Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay, is full of stories where women share from the depth of their experience, pain, and eventual hope as they struggled through times when life was not okay. Take Heart is now available to purchase and we are so excited for this book to land in your hands!

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Wise in Our Own Eyes

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I looked out our kitchen window and knew disaster awaited.

“Boys,” I yelled outside. “Aim your golf club in the opposite direction or someone’s going to break a window.”

Two of our three sons agreed. “Okay, Mom. No problem.” And yet there was one hold-out to my simple request. With all the gumption our twelve-year-old could muster, he insisted, “Mom, there’s no way my golf ball will hit the window. I know what I’m doing.”

He’d laid down the gauntlet, and after a feisty dialogue about choices and obedience, I thought it resolved. While he was convinced that there was no pending problem, I assumed he’d obey, but minutes after our exchange, I heard it! That “professional” golfer hit and shattered the very window of which I had warned him. I was livid.

“All I asked you to do was to aim your swing in the opposite direction! How difficult is that for you? It’s not. It’s simple.”

“Mom, I’m sorry. I was so sure that I wouldn’t hit the window.”

The golf ball stayed lodged in the shattered glass for over a year. Without any additional lectures needed, it served as a visual reminder, a marker of sorts. I only had to point at it, and he remembered this life lesson.

Our son didn’t set out to crack this window. His heart attitude didn’t declare, “I will purposely disobey my mom because I want to do her wrong.” Rather it stemmed from the Scripture, “Every man did that which was right in his own eyes” (Judges 21:25 KJV).

Our son acted on his own authority and with the belief that he knew better. Ultimately, his twelve-year-old wisdom and knowledge failed him. While my sin might not be as outwardly defiant as his, I too have done the same more often than I care to admit.

As a mom of five, I’m no stranger to Proverbs 3:7: “Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil.” I admit I’m a big fan of this verse for our kids, but in turn, the Lord opened my eyes to how strategically relevant it is in today’s culture. In leadership, the workforce, politics, and even parenting books, everything screams, “My opinion is right!”

I can dismiss much of the pride and rhetoric as I hone my critical thinking skills and even learn from those I disagree with, but my heart grieves when I see people — including myself — elevate opinions above the truth of Scripture. It has me asking, Lord, are we becoming a generation so wise in our own eyes that we are missing out on Your glory by doing so?

In a potluck society where we bring to the table a few Scripture passages dished up with a side of personal opinions, it results in a smorgasbord that no longer fully aligns with God’s Word. Once considered sharper than a two-edged sword, its authority becomes dulled to a butter knife amidst compromise. We read books and topical articles about the Bible. We listen to our favorite authors and podcasters to glean what they think about certain chapters. And while there’s nothing inherently wrong with that (I sure hope not since I’m an author and a Bible teacher,) if that’s the only foundation for our faith, we will be swayed by other people’s conclusions — as smart as they could be — instead of first engaging with God and learning from Him as we read His Word.

When we spend time diving into Scripture passages, inductively studying the context of verses and making observations, He reveals new insights. I’ve heard it said, “We can’t know the will of God if we don’t know the Word of God.” Wow, I need a pouring out of grace with that one because I’m often guilty of not spending enough time with Him!

Ultimately, I’m reminded of the golf ball day, of being “wise in my own eyes.” Our son was so sure he knew better, and I’m often right there with him. He earnestly believed his actions were correct, so he chose his opinions over my trusted authority. Isn’t that often our problem?

We confuse truth and opinion when we think we know better than the Word of God, but as the Lord continues to mold us, I pray we grow in righteousness as our own sins are revealed and that we utter wisdom and truth boldly without compromise.

Our family now laughs about that golf ball exchange, but it continues to serve as my tangible reminder that true wisdom is found at the foot of the cross, not at others’ feet.

Imitate What Is Good

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Dear friend, do not imitate what is evil, but what is good. The one who does good is of God; the one who does evil has not seen God.
3 John 11 (CSB)

Just as children learn to copy their parents’ behavior (both good and bad), we are the same with our Heavenly Father. When we have seen God and experienced His love and grace, we will start to look like Him, act like Him, love like Him, and welcome others as He did us. Earlier in the chapter, John commends Gaius, to whom this letter is written, that he has been walking in the truth and that it shows in the way he welcomed and treated fellow believers. In contrast, Diotrephes, refused to welcome them, going so far as to kick out from the church anyone who tried to do so.

John 13:35 says, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Our lives will bear fruit depending on whom we follow. As those who proclaim Christ as Lord and Savior, may our love for one another invite others to know Him too.

How have you seen glimpses of God in the Church or in your community recently?

When You Feel Rejected and Unseen

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The other day, an email popped up in my inbox, one I had been waiting for expectantly. It was from a popular podcaster, and I hovered my mouse over the subject line.

Weeks earlier, I had emailed the podcaster, asking her if she might consider having me as a guest to talk about some of the themes of a book I had written. I felt like my message was a perfect fit for her audience, so I had spent a lot of time crafting my pitch to her.

I clicked on the email and read her words. That’s when my heart sank a little: “Thank you for reaching out about being a guest on our show, but . . . ”

But.

There it was.

A great big — a-hem — but.

Thank you for reaching out, but we have plans to feature other guests this year.

A series of questions ran through my mind as I stared at the email: Didn’t she see the value in what I had to offer? Why did every other guest have something worthwhile to say but not me? Am I not good enough? Am I not relevant?

Later that day, I made the really poor choice to mindlessly scroll through Instagram, pausing long enough on photos of women who clearly were funnier, more relevant, and more interesting than me. I’ll bet that podcaster would love to have these women as guests!

Yes, this really was about as pathetic as you are imagining. (That’s why I almost didn’t tell you about the whole embarrassing thing.)

But then something else happened, and I knew I had to share my insecurities with you.

Over the next several days, I crossed paths with so many other women who were feeling set aside, overlooked, and invisible.

Two writers, with dreams of getting their books published, reached out to me and said they felt hopeless. All they had were stacks of rejections. They didn’t feel relevant.

A friend got passed over for a promotion at her office in favor of someone younger and, in her view, “more savvy.” She no longer felt relevant.

Another friend who’s a stay-at-home mom remarked that she felt invisible and underappreciated at home, like she just “blends into the furniture” — not at all the way she felt when she had a full-time job.

And then, a talented photographer that I follow on Facebook wrote these words to her followers: “Y’all, I am tired. And I am apparently invisible. . . . I’m going to take a break and go introvert for a while. I need some time to be okay with offering myself and my art into the world again, even if it’s not received.”

We aren’t alone in these feelings of invisibility, are we?

We look around sometimes and feel like everybody else has it all figured out. We wish we didn’t care so much about conventional popularity, but it feels like that’s the commodity for success and meaning in 2020.

Even the most popular person you know likely feels it, and no matter how high you climb, it seems like you’ve got to figure out a way to climb higher. In the race to matter more, we face the constant pressure to build online legacies and continually reinvent ourselves. And all of it is killing our focus and creativity because we’re afraid that what we have to offer will never truly be adequate.

This morning, I’d had enough of it all. I opened up the Bible, absolutely desperate for God to show me something —  anything — to help me push aside recurring feelings of irrelevance. I landed on the story of the woman in Luke 8 who had been tucked away in her house for twelve years, needing healing. It’s safe to say she probably felt unseen and unnoticed. When she heard that Jesus was coming, she stepped outside, took a chance, and touched the edge of Jesus’ cloak. Immediately, she was healed.

Pay close attention to what happened next: Jesus asked who had touched him. The woman knew right away that she had been found out.

“When the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet” (Luke 8:47 NIV, emphasis added).

Other versions of the Bible say it like this:

“She could not stay hidden.” (NLT)

“She had not escaped notice.” (AMP)

Here’s my favorite: “The woman saw that she was discovered.” (HCSB)

She was not a nameless face in the crowd after all.

She was someone who had just been “discovered” in the most remarkable way possible. Not like the latest, greatest Instagrammer. Not like the newest podcaster on the block. Not like the next big thing to hit YouTube.

She was discovered by Jesus, on account of her reaching out in desperation for Him alone.

We need that kind of healing today. Many of us are desperate to matter more. And when we admit it, that’s when we see clearly what matters most: Jesus.

I don’t know what your dreams are. I don’t know about your rejection. I don’t know the last time you felt invisible. Maybe it’s right now, in this moment. Reach out and touch the hem of Jesus’ robe, and know that you have been “discovered.” You are fully known, fully loved, fully relevant.

Three Things You Can Know About the Future — No Matter What

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As I wait for my flight, I watch the parade of people (this is before COVID-19 and quarantine). Disgruntled teenagers with caps pulled down over their eyes trail behind determined parents. Bright-eyed couples hold hands with the honeymoon sun still on their faces. A group of grey-headed ladies in pink matching t-shirts laugh and exchange stories while they sip coffee.

I wonder about all of them. Where have they come from? Where are they going?

I realize all over again in that moment God knows the answers. He sees every detail of our lives. He’s been with us in every step we’ve ever taken. This reassures me because no human knows what’s ahead. There are certain to be blessings and moments of happiness. There will also be hard days and tears shed. Some parts of our lives will stay much the same, and others, like it or not, will inevitably change.

A blond, little girl in pigtails walks by with a stuffed brown bear in her arms. Seeing her reminds me of the first time I flew by myself. I was only five years old when I marched up to the ticket counter with a little red suitcase in hand to tell the amused airline employee the plane needed to come so I could go see my grandma. My parents observed from close by and made sure every bit of the trip was in order.

These days, I carry a leopard print laptop bag, and I’ve flown away from my comfort zone many times. But on the inside, that younger self and I still have much in common. We want to know we’re safe, we’re loved, and we’re going to be okay. That’s what gives us the courage to pick up our bag and go.

Psalm 121:8 says, “The Lord will protect your coming and going both now and forever.” This is mysterious to me because difficult things happen, people get sick, and life doesn’t always work out the way I planned. But even if I don’t understand them fully, these words offer hope because whatever may transpire God is still taking caring of me.

Three hundred and sixty thousand people will arrive on this earth today. Some will depart. The other seven billion of us will go about our business — catching flights, rocking babies, showing up for work, and eating birthday cake.

And God will watch over it all. Every coming and going. Every beginning and end. Every dream come true and heartbreak. He has done this for all of history. He is doing so today. He will continue to do so every day of your life.

Here are three things you need to know about your future:

1) God will be there.

2) You will be loved.

3) Nothing will be too much for you and Jesus to overcome together.

You may not know exactly what’s ahead of you, but you can be absolutely certain of Who is with you. You are not a random passenger, nameless and unknown in the crowd of humanity. And the One who travels with you isn’t afraid of your tears, overwhelmed by your struggles or hesitant about entering into your happiness and celebrations.

We are beloved children of the God who breathed life into our lungs and who numbers every hair on our heads. So let’s go boldly into the next moment with the confidence that all things are possible and in the end all will be made right.

 

For more encouragement and a life-changing tool, 15 Minutes to Your Mission Statement: 4 Exercises to Help You Discover Your Personal Strengths and Direction, subscribe to Holley’s blog.

Even Now, God Is to Be Found

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A loud laugh escapes my mouth, and I’m surprised by its unfamiliarity. It lifts and relaxes my body and spirit in a way I didn’t realize I needed. My six-year-old’s joke is unexpected in its wittiness and timing, and his face radiates delight over making me laugh so hard. I pull him in close and plant one too many kisses on his cheek, thankful for his sweet love and humor. The first few months of being at home together since the pandemic began were filled with anxiety and fear, grief and the constant tension of being in each other’s space. We longed for time alone while wanting to hold each other close and never let go. We all felt the precariousness of life, especially my son.

And still, somehow, this baby of mine has become a big kid before my own eyes. He understands how to meet others in their sadness, tender to their ache. He knows that being silly can brighten a moment, even if it can’t change the mood for long. He is quick to give hugs, full of energy I often can’t handle, and he reminds me there is hope for good, for joy.

And I need to know that joy is not only possible but that it can abound even now. For months, depression has hung around like a smoky haze during wildfire season. It’s kept me lethargic and unmotivated, struggling to create and keep up with deadlines. Just when I think it’s subsided and I have energy like that of my son’s, the sparks fizzle into nothing, and I’m back to the sluggish pace I wish to escape.

I manage to get done what I need to. I bake bread and play games with my family. I work and decorate the house for quarantine birthdays. I know how to function in survival mode even when I’m not well because I’ve done it so much in my life. I can live life on auto-pilot, and no one would know I’m struggling — not even me.

But laughter breaks me from the trance of survival. It makes me pause to be fully present in the moment with my son and to see that I live in the land of the living right now. It reminds me of how precious life is even while the world burns. Growth has not stopped, death has not taken everything from us, and we are still living.

And living for me right now — and all the time — looks like paying attention and being curious. When unrelenting knots form in my neck the weekend of my wedding anniversary, I pay attention and recognize what a difficult year of healing it has been. I voice my pain and care for myself with kindness. When my son is grumpy and crumbles into tantrums, I offer hugs instead of lectures knowing he feels left out from his sister needing space. When the din of social media and the news becomes louder than my soul can handle, I step away and look for glimpses of the divine.

I look for what will give me life so I can keep going. I ask myself what I need and get help where I can. Sometimes it looks like a video call with my therapist after being triggered by current events. It can look like napping when sleep was elusive the night before. It’s listening to a praise song that sings to me the truth I need to hear. And sometimes it’s as simple as sending a funny meme to a friend because I know she’d find it hilarious. We laugh together over text and agree that internet comedy is one of the many things we’re grateful for these days.

Jeremiah 29:13 says, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”

Even when injustices don’t get rectified, when the healing we fervently prayed for doesn’t happen, when evil prospers, if we seek Him, we will find Him. Laughter reminds me that God is here in the complicated mess — a glimpse of the divine. And this is what I see: He is God of justice, God of comfort, God of miracles, God of joy.

What is giving you life or bringing you joy these days?

Walking with Jesus as Our Pacer

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When the sheltering-at-home orders began in March, we found ourselves together in the house all day long. On many spring and summer nights after dinner, I’d look at my husband and three daughters and say, “Let’s go for a walk.”

I may have well been saying, “I need to get out of here.” And my people all understood.

We would slip into flip flops and Birkenstocks and head out the front door. According to the dictionary, to walk means “to advance or travel on foot at a moderate speed or pace.”

Our pace was more of a stroll.

Unhurried and unharried, we did not walk with a specific purpose or agenda besides simply breathing some fresh air and being together. We would walk in groups of two or three and settle into a slow pace that enabled us to talk and observe.

My girls know I am a sunset chaser. Ever since my late husband Ericlee soared to heaven in 2014, I have found great comfort in the unique ways God paints the sky each night. The swirl of colors – sometimes in baby pastels, sometimes in richer, jewel tones – always reminds me that God is our Creator and holds all things in His hands.

Our family loves to serpentine through the neighborhood and follow the cul-de-sacs. We make a point of walking down that one street where roses line the walkway. We oooh and ahhh together at the roses twirling their petal skirts. We peek at the ripe fruit hanging over fences and check out the homes for sale.

In those early weeks, we noticed lots of other families were out too. We saw neighbors walking their dogs, groups of tweens riding their bikes and scooters, and even some grandparents ambling through the streets pushing babies in strollers. We waved and chatted socially-distanced, six feet (or more) apart.

We quickly realized these circumstances, which required so many to stay at home, were giving us more points of connection than ever before. We have only been living in this particular neighborhood for two years. My daughters observed there are way more kids living in our neighborhood than we had thought.

My heart also soared when I noted the cultural diversity among my neighbors. We passed many speaking in other mother tongues and with a diversity of skin tones. In an uncertain world, I felt somehow more at home in my own brown skin.

As we were simply putting one foot in front of the other, our little family also connected with each other more too. Sisters, who were frequently squabbling at the dinner table, were naturally linking arms and laughing together as they walked. I had more of a chance to unpack the day’s events and my heart’s worries with my husband Shawn.

Walking is an important mode of transportation mentioned frequently in the Bible. In a spiritual sense, walking with God means to abide with Him, obey His commands, and keep a deliberate pace, following His lead.

Adam and Eve hear God “walking in the garden” in Genesis 3:8. This very vivid description of God tells us something about our heavenly Father. Our all-powerful, all-knowing, omnipresent God longs for personal connection with His children. There is an intimacy that grows in walking together.

Throughout the Old Testament, we read accounts of people of faith walking with God. Enoch lived a total of 365 years walking with His heavenly Father. Genesis 5:24 says, “Enoch walked faithfully with God; then he was no more, because God took him away.”

In Genesis 6:9, we read about Noah walking with God: “Noah was a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time, and he walked faithfully with God.” God was Noah’s pacer and gave him assurance as he built the ark with no sign of rain on the horizon.

Paul reminds us to walk with good form: “ . . . walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called,  with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love,  eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:1-3).

1 John 2:6 also highlights the concept of walking: “Whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked.” John is talking about daily living out our faith by following Jesus’ example.

Jesus deliberately chose to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with people. He was the Messiah-King, but He did not travel in a chariot or ride a majestic horse like other kings of His time. He didn’t tool around town in a Tesla or a limousine.

Jesus walked, and He invites each of us to follow Him.

He walked up a great hill carrying a cross and then died on that cross so that every one of us would have the invitation to walk across a path of grace and into heaven one day.

Friend, let Jesus pace you. Resist the urge to run ahead or lag behind. Instead, walk with Him.

 

In what ways has walking brought more connection for you with people or God?

 

Dorina just launched a new devotional book, Walk Run Soar. Sign up for her Glorygram newsletter and get all the insider details about her new book and podcast.

When You Feel Like You Take Up Too Much Space

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See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!
1 John 3:1 (NIV)

I love traveling. I love airports too. Flying, though? I hate flying. See, I’m overweight. And while that fact is always present in my thoughts, never am I more aware of my extra pounds than when I fly. I hate flying because I take up too much space.
If I have the choice, I always choose an aisle seat. I hold my breath and suck in my gut and pray that the seatbelt will latch. And then I spend the next few hours squeezing my legs together and digging my elbows into my sides as I try to avoid taking up any extra space — in the aisle, in the seats, in the air.

My scrunched-up and sucked-in body language, along with my apologetic glances and occasional “sorrys” after the inevitable bumps and elbow rubs, is one big apology.

I’m sorry for taking up too much space.
I’m sorry for being too big.
I’m sorry for being in the way.
I’m sorry I’m kind of sweaty from speed-walking to the gate.
I’m sorry I reached over you to turn on my fan.
I’m sorry my leg bumped your leg.
I’m sorry I’m in the way.
I’m sorry you have to sit by me.

Maybe you fit just fine in an airplane seat. Maybe it’s something else that makes you hunch your shoulders and stare at the ground with red cheeks, apologizing for part of who you are, for just being yourself.

Are you clumsy? Perpetually late? Awkward? Too talkative? Too loud? Too quiet? Too sarcastic? Too much? Too real? Too you?

No you aren’t. You are wonderful. You are loved. And when God looks at His creation (that’s you! and me!), He says, “It is very good.” Regardless of how anyone else sees us, we are God’s workmanship and masterpiece — and He lavishes His love on us.

If you’re tempted to apologize for who you are or how you are, please don’t. Remember that you have a right to be here, to take up space — in a conversation, on the airplane, in the grocery store aisle, at the moms group, in the world. And no matter how much space you take up or how you take up that space, you are welcome and wanted and loved.

Thank You, Lord, for being a safe place where I am called good, where I take up just the right amount of space, where I am seen and loved and welcome to be who I am, how I am, just as I am. Even saying that calms my heart and lets me breathe deeper. Give me the strength to truly recognize that no matter how anyone else sees me, I am God’s workmanship and masterpiece, and I am loved. Amen.

Written by Mary Carver, as published in Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay

Our devotional, Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay, is full of stories like this. Women sharing from the depth of their experience, pain, and eventual hope as they struggled through times when life was not okay.

We know that for many of us life isn’t okay right now. Everything is different, and the unknowns abound, which is why we see each story in this book as an offering of hope, from one heart to another.

Order Take Heart today!

Joy Is Contagious — Share It with the World Around You

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A few years ago, I took my daughter Chloe on a three-day trip to Mobile, Alabama, for a combined birthday/high school graduation trip. She knew we were going but not the destination until minutes before we hopped on a bus in downtown Atlanta. The biggest treat in store for her — for both of us, really — was concert tickets to see one of our favorite bands at the historic Saenger Theatre.

I didn’t tell Chloe about the concert immediately. I love surprises and couldn’t wait to see her face when she discovered this one. We strolled around town the evening before the show and I even walked up to the front of the theater, thinking that might give it away, but she didn’t notice the poster. 

Just hours before the show, I told her where I was taking her, and she was as excited as I’d hoped she’d be. We arrived early, bought our souvenirs, found our seats, and then walked around the beautiful old theater. We sat down and pulled out our phones, eager to notify the world where we were and what we were doing.

I noticed a couple in front of us trying to take a selfie, and I smiled at how happy they seemed to be there, just as we were. But when the concert began and we jumped to our feet, I realized how big the man in front of me was. I envisioned a night of shifting and straining to peek through the gaps and get glimpses of the stage.

I knew right then I could fixate on the challenge before me (literally) or decide to wring every drop of joy from a night I’d anticipated for four months.

I chose joy.

As it turned out, the guy in front of me may have been a big man but he was also a big fan. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone enjoy a concert so much. His enthusiasm was infectious, a contagious source of joy to those around him.

My daughter FaceTimed a friend when the band performed one of our favorite songs, and our happiness took wing, flying through the night and across the miles, back home to Georgia. The man next to us got such a kick out of Chloe’s friend laughing and dancing on the other end of that line, two friends sharing a moment and a song — joy multiplied.

In spite of the visual obstacle, I enjoyed this concert the most of the four times I’d seen this band.

At the hotel, we took the elevator with a different couple who’d been there too. The woman’s experience was the exact opposite of mine: total disappointment. Her problem wasn’t the performance but the company. She had sat in the balcony surrounded by less-than-avid fans, and it stole her joy.

Not only is joy contagious, but its absence leaves a void.

While we can’t control the people around us or our surroundings, we do determine how we react to things beyond our control. Choosing joy when anger or frustration comes easier takes both work and intention. When the Apostle Paul wrote to the church at Philippi, he instructed them to choose joy, which is only possible if its source is the Lord and not our circumstances:

Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice.
Philippians 4:4 (KJV)

Sisters, let’s not only choose joy but chase it too. What a brighter world we’ll leave in our wake if we open our hearts to true joy, let it fill us up, and then fling it wide into a waiting world.