Rejoice in the Source of Our Hope

Rejoice in the Source of Our Hope

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Many of you might be feeling a bit weary. I can hear it in your voices. I can read it between the lines of written words. I am weary too, friends. From big things to small things — health, family, a heartbreaking, unexpected death, a global pandemic, even a broken refrigerator — it has been a hard season. And it seems that one issue after another has kept me out of my art studio. I haven’t created any new art for some time, and I figured I’d just let it go until the new year, get a fresh start then.

But day after day, something has been pressing on my heart. I couldn’t get the thought of my head, and I could no longer keep pushing that small voice aside.

I made my way into my studio with only this message on my heart: hope and time for this weary world to rejoice. It was such a strong message that I knew I needed to share it right now — this season, this year. It couldn’t wait until next Christmas.

This is the message we need to hear right now: This weary world can rejoice because we have a Savior in Jesus. Only He can bring the peace, love, and hope we long for. 

I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in Him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.
Romans 15:13 (NLT)

Romans 15 gives us an incredible reminder of where our peace, our joy, and our hope come from. Jesus is our source of them all.

Even before the challenges of being in a pandemic were added, this time of year was already overwhelming with expectations — expectations of a perfectly put together Christmas experience, Advent calendar activities, dinner parties, family photos in coordinated outfits, pictures with Santa, following every tradition, creating memories, finding perfect gifts, and checking all the lists. The problem with all those expectations was that when they didn’t go as planned, we felt disappointed or maybe even that we’ve ruined Christmas. The high expectations were just not realistic.

When our joy is placed achieving impossible standards, we set ourselves up to feeling empty. But when we put our joy and happiness in Jesus, He fills us in ways that cannot be understood or explained. The hope we have in Jesus will carry us through even the darkest days. 

No matter if we’re feeling broken, rejected, or fearful, no matter what our homes or schedules look like, no matter what we’re walking through this season, Jesus steps into the darkness and brings the hope we need. He meets us in our mess and redeems it.

He is truly the Light in the darkness.

So, let’s choose to let go of all those expectations. Let’s focus on the love around us, the joy that still surrounds us. Jesus is still here. He is the source of hope that will not disappoint, and He can heal a weary world. He is the best gift of all, and that calls for some rejoicing.

 

I created “The Weary World Rejoices” art collection with you in mind! Each piece is a reminder that Jesus is our only source of hope. Get one for you and a friend this Christmas!

 

The Delight of Eating Together

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For months, the Holy Spirit prodded at my heart to reach out to a widow down the street from us. Weeks went by and then months of ignoring a growing conviction, until all the excuses I’d wrapped so beautifully started to unravel. With a thumping in my heart and apologies on my tongue, I gave her a call.

I had no idea how she’d react, and I honestly felt overwhelming guilt for waiting so long. Cognizant of her health, I offered a front porch, physically distant coffee date. Without hesitation, without expressing frustration for all the times I drove by her home without acknowledgment, she squealed, “Oh Jen, I couldn’t be any more tickled with delight.”

Tickled with delight. It felt straight out of a Hallmark movie.

Why had I waited so long? It rocked me once again to know that a simple invitation to gather at the table would be met with such joy amidst loneliness.

But should that surprise me?

I’ve spent a lot of time in Luke. I think he’d be the first Bible personality I’d invite to my table if I could. More than any of the other Gospel writers, Luke seemed to understand the significance of mealtime and table fellowship. I imagine him as the quintessential New Testament food blogger, whipping out his cell phone to capture in pictures what can’t be described with words. He’d bring to life the significance of food and community. After all, food was mentioned around fifty times in his gospel. Robert Karris observes, “In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is either going to a meal, at a meal, or coming from a meal.”

Jesus used the sharing of food throughout His ministry as an opportunity for nourishment on so many levels — to break down barriers, bring community together, radically cross economic and political boundaries, and even give opposing enemies the opportunity to sit together. The context behind many of Jesus’ interactions with His followers was a simple meal. He modeled its importance, and yet Luke seems to be the only one who highlighted this in his writing. Maybe he didn’t want us to miss out on Jesus’ simple yet revolutionary method.

We can learn and apply a lot from this. In A Meal with Jesus, author Tim Chester reflects on six particular chapters in Luke and poses an interesting question in the introduction: “How would you complete this sentence — The Son of Man came . . .”

Out of curiosity, I asked my husband and son this question, and they followed suit with the majority of Christians. They answered, “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45 ESV), followed by, “The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10 ESV).

So then I offered, “There’s a third way to respond.” They were as stumped as I had been. The third response I told them is, “The Son of Man has come eating and drinking” (Luke 7:34 ESV).

My husband argued, “Oh no He didn’t.”

“Oh yes He did. Open the Bible, and I’ll show you.”

How is it that I’d glossed over that last statement when I’d read it so often? Chester writes, “The first two are statements of purpose. Why did Jesus come? He came to serve, to give His life as a ransom, to seek and save the lost. The third statement is a statement of method.” It’s how Jesus came — eating and drinking. Isn’t that a dynamic insight?

How brilliant that His gospel strategy was often disguised as a long, lingering meal stretching out past sunset. He didn’t spend time creating more corporate planning strategy meetings or developing new church programs. He simply fed more. He intertwined His message and His method in such an authentic and natural way that it’s easy to miss if we’re not paying attention.

Jesus came “eating and drinking,” and it blew people’s minds. That’s because when He sat down to eat, there was a lot more going on than just the savoring of fresh fish hot off the grill, a loaf of bread, and a cool drink. Doing life around the table was and continues to be one of God’s favorite ways to enact world change — one of His most profound yet simple strategies for discipleship, evangelism, and the encouragement of the saints.

Our tables may look different this year due to COVID, but more than ever before, let’s take His lead. The profound impact a simple, safe, creative invitation can have on the lives of those around us must be pursued.

Who can you save a seat for this holiday season? Trust me, they’ll be tickled with delight.

 

How to Live a Deeply Rooted Life

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It seems impossible, but it’s true: Our dear friend Shelly Miller has been gone from this earth for a whole month now. And because grief is a weird thing, I find myself doing two things over and over again:

First, I keep listening to the last message Shelly sent to me. I listen to her voice, memorizing the words, the cadence, and the turns of phrases. 

It’s exactly three minutes and eight seconds long. Her voice is weak and wavering, and I’m still shocked when I hear her utter these impossible words — “The disease is taking over my body.” 

When I had first heard these words, I didn’t believe it. Losing Shelly seemed unimaginable even after she’d been given a terminal diagnosis of cancer. And though her body had lost its strength, her faith hadn’t. She sought peace through it all and until the end. 

She left that voice message on a Saturday, and twenty-four hours later, Shelly slipped away to heaven. 

The second thing I keep doing is looking at a photo I had snapped when our family had visited Shelly and her husband H at their home in London. Gorgeous white flowers were blooming profusely in the most unexpected place — atop a brick wall. There was no soil up on that wall, at least that I could see, no tending by human hands, and yet there they were, an abundance of snow-white flowers waving in the breeze. I marveled at them and took a photo to remember how they simply existed because they existed. 

I stare at the photo now, and this part of 1 Corinthians 3:7 comes to mind, “ . . . only God, who makes things grow.” Some flowers burst forth in bloom simply because God made it so. 

Shelly was that way. Some of you here might know her already. She was a friend of (in)courage, a beloved author, and a gifted photographer. She was known around the world as the Rest Mentor. Through her words, she constantly encouraged us to carry a bit of Sabbath in our hearts. For me, she was a dear friend and also a steady voice in my ear to pause and rest when I pushed too hard. 

Shelly would always tell her readers that it was possible to “make rest realistic, not just miraculous.” In a culture that idolizes hustle, she wanted us to know that we didn’t have to wait for some magical moment to take a beat in this busy world. 

And like those flowers outside the window of Shelly’s home, she was able to flourish in impossible places, even in the midst of a cancer diagnosis. I told Shelly that sometimes it seemed like when the cancer grew, her faith grew bigger.

While Shelly was like those flowers in important ways — blooming in unexpected ways and in an unexpected place — she was also different. We couldn’t see the roots of the flowers, but we all could see that Shelly was a deeply rooted woman. 

I always told her she had a “resourced faith.” She spent countless hours studying God’s Word and being still in His presence, teaching about rest and living out those lessons. All of it added up to a bank of spiritual resources. In hard times, she was able to draw from the “faith bank” that she had built during less turbulent times. 

Resourced faith — built quietly over time — can sustain us in seasons of great trials, in the same way that a strong and deeply rooted system can keep a plant blooming strong.

“Even in the midst of living with a terminal illness, joy is found and markers are to be celebrated. We don’t stop living just because of prognoses,” Shelly wrote in one of her last Instagram posts. In another, she wrote: “Uncertainty comes with a choice: Let circumstances control you or give control to the One who knows every detail of your circumstance.”

Shelly taught us a lot of lessons in the fifty-six years of her beautiful life. She showed us what it looked like to bloom wherever she was planted — in the soil of adversity or in the soil of joyful abundance, planted by God who gives life and makes things bloom. 

When I think about the kind of life I want to live, it’s clear to me that I want to live like Shelly, making each day count by putting down roots that go deep — roots that will help me to not only stand strong during the storms of this life but to also flourish with beauty and grace.

The Reason for This Advent Season

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For a child will be born for us,
a son will be given to us,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
He will be named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6 (CSB)

Today, we mark the first week of Advent, a season of expectant waiting and longing for Christ to come again as we celebrate His first coming. Perhaps more than ever, we feel the ache of wanting God to make all things right again, so let’s let the words of this familiar passage marinate in our hearts.

Jesus is our Wonderful Counselor. When we are in despair from the overwhelming pain of this year, we remember that God is Healer and Counselor. He is both the One who helps us and the very balm we need for our broken hearts, our fragile minds, and our bruised bodies.

Jesus is our Mighty God. When we are taken advantage of, when we feel powerless, God is our strength and our defender. No can stand against His powerful name.

Jesus is our Eternal Father. When we feel unloved — particularly during this holiday season, we remember that God is our loving Father. He has known us from before He created the world and knows where we are headed. He cares about each moment and every part of our lives.

Jesus is our Prince of Peace. When fear and anxiety rule our hearts, He is still the giver of peace. He Himself is Peace and dwells within us through the Holy Spirit. Find rest in Him.

Come, Lord Jesus, come. Amen. 

Choosing the Path to Bethlehem

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I still remember sitting at that outdoor café table across from my mama as a newly-minted widow. In those days, it was hard for us to find time away from my three young daughters to process together. We savored our sandwiches on freshly-baked bread and sipped cappuccino on that fall day. Our conversation wandered to the book of Ruth, which we were walking through at our church Bible study.

Was it any wonder that just a few months after my husband soared to heaven that God would have me circle back to study one of my favorite books in the Bible? The timing of it all was not lost on me.

This time, I was reading through the book with a new lens as a young widow myself. The details leaped off the pages of my Bible, and I saw His fingerprints all over the story.

The story begins with two women, Naomi and her daughter-in-law Ruth, in the midst of a crisis. Naomi’s husband Elimelech has died and her two sons, including Ruth’s husband, have also died in Moab where they had lived.

Naomi decides to return to her home town of Bethlehem where there is promise of provision and urges her two daughters-in-law to return to their Moabite families. She has nothing to offer them. But Ruth takes an unexpected stand.

Her words echo through the halls of history:

“Do not persuade me to leave you or go back and not follow you. For wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you live, I will live; your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.”
Ruth 1:16 (HCSB)

Ruth chooses the road to Bethlehem. She walks away from her home in Moab, her family of origin, and her past.

On the road to Bethlehem, Ruth’s life is transformed. In Hebrew, Bethlehem means the “house of bread” — a symbol of provision. Ruth doesn’t know it at the time, but trusting in God means walking toward provision, freedom, and eventually unexpected redemption for both her and Naomi.

That day, sitting at the cafe, my mama said these words to me, “I just want to encourage you to open your heart. I believe God has someone else for you.”

My hands and heart trembled. How could she suggest that God might bring a new man to our family when I was still in the depths of my grief?

My marriage with my husband Ericlee had been strong. We were a team in parenting and ministry. But in losing him, I was down a teammate, and the wounds were still fresh. It was difficult to lift my head to imagine a hopeful future.

But I heard my mama’s words.

As crimson and gold leaves sashayed to the ground, and the sun warmed my cheeks, I felt a glimmer of hope.

In that same season, God brought Shawn into my life.

Shawn was a dear friend of our family – one of Ericlee’s best friends. We rekindled our friendship, and God began to unfold His wild plan for my future. Shawn spent time with the girls and me, and I began to look at him in a new way. My heart began to open.

Could this be God’s unexpected provision?

I expected pushback, but our friends and families gave us their blessing. Our Author-God handed us the next chapter of this life and invited my three young daughters and me into an unexpected redemption story only He could have written. Out of our brokenness, God brought abundance.

We wanted everyone who attended our wedding to know that God was the one who deserved all the glory for bringing us together. More than 700 people filled the church that day to celebrate with us. These were the people who had prayed for healing and grieved with us, the ones who had stood by my side on my hardest days and lifted me up.

When I look back over our wedding pictures, joy and wonder still bubble up in my spirit. We laughed, we cried, we feasted, we danced – all the while giving God glory for the surprising beauty He brought from our ashes.

God brings beauty from the ashes of Ruth’s life too. That single decision to follow Naomi to Bethlehem changes the trajectory of her life. She meets Boaz in Bethlehem, who later becomes her kinsman-redeemer and husband. More importantly, Ruth meets God, who is her ultimate Redeemer.

God includes her in His story – history – as the great-grandmother of King David and part of the bloodline of His Son Jesus. It’s no coincidence that Jesus is later born in Bethlehem, where Ruth discovered the kindness of God and true redemption.

Friend, if are feeling hopeless, remember Ruth. If you are wading through the mess of 2020 feeling like redemption is out of reach, remember how Yahweh met her on the road to Bethlehem. He met me there too.

As Christmas approaches, let’s all take a step toward Bethlehem. Our Redeemer awaits.

 

Dorina has written a free print and audio Advent devotional called “Under His Wings.” Sign up for her Glorygram here and a copy will be delivered to you every Sunday during Advent.

 

The Best Kind of Shopping

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Growing up, my mom and I went shopping every Black Friday. She raised me to be a bargain hunter, and the day after Thanksgiving was our main event. We pored over the Thanksgiving newspaper sprawled out on the floor after dinner and circled the items on our wish list like kids with a toy catalog. In those days, stores opened at the before-dawn hour of 6:00 am.

Mom and I would wait in line at Target, Dayton’s, and Kohl’s, and we would choose our first stop based on the free gifts they were handing out at the door. Yes, they used to do that! Over the years we collected snowglobes, stuffed animals, lawn chairs, and fleece blankets at the start. Then we would wander the store, standing in lines to check out with our treasures, giddily thinking about the recipient’s face on Christmas Day when they would open the perfect gift we got them. On the way home, we’d stop at a gas station for hot chocolate and donuts, our hands cold but our hearts warm from spending time together.

Black Friday shopping was a big deal because it meant one-on-one time with my mom. Years later, she admitted to me that she actually hated getting out of bed to stand in lines in the  freezing cold, but she did it because I loved it and she loved me.

The great deals we scored were just the icing on the cake.

Story by Anna E. Rendell

Gone are the days of free gifts in line and stores waiting until dawn to open. Black Friday shopping, especially this year, isn’t what it used to be, but we think it can still be fun — and helpful to your holiday budget too!

With that in mind, we’re super excited to tell you that EVERYTHING at Dayspring.com is 30% off for Black Friday!

Beautiful and created with intentional meaning, these items will make amazing gifts for women near and dear to your heart and will serve as a tangible reminder of God’s love for them.

And the best part about shopping these deals at DaySpring.com? You can wear your sweatpants, have your hair up in a messy bun, and you don’t have to leave your couch — all while stocking up on lovely, inspirational gifts for your family and friends. Is there any better kind of shopping?

Here are a few of our favorite (in)courage-inspired Dayspring products:

CSB (in)courage Devotional Bible: This sale is a fabulous chance to save big on the (in)courage Devotional Bible. We even have a brand new cover to choose from! With 322 devotions from over 100 (in)courage writers, this Bible is just what you’ve been looking for.

Woman of Courage Antique Silver Bar Pendant Necklace: Because every woman needs a reminder of who she is in Christ, this antique silver pendant necklace is a perfect gift for all occasions and will remind a friend, sister, daughter, or mom that she is strong and courageous when her trust is in God.

Take Heart: 100 Devotions for Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay: In our BRAND NEW 100-day devotional, the (in)courage community comes alongside you when your heart is grieving, your faith is shaking, or you’re having one of those mundane hard days. You won’t find tidy bows or trite quick fixes, just arrows pointing you straight to Jesus. After a year like 2020, this is the perfect gift for every woman on your list!

A Moment to Breathe Gift Set: Through this collection of stories, the (in)courage community invites you to kick off your shoes and join them for a relaxing but special time, where friends come together and share the real stuff of everyday faith.  This devotional gift set also includes our A Moment to Breathe devotional journal and matching perpetual calendar.

Simply enter FRIDAY at checkout for 30% off these (in)courage favorites AND everything else at DaySpring! Plus, with this great deal, you can save an extra 30% on sale items too!

Whether you are picking up curbside or shopping from your phone, may your 2020 Black Friday be filled with lots of coffee and great deals on meaningful gifts!

Do you have a memorable Black Friday story?
We’d love to hear it in the comments below!

 

We Thank God for YOU!

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I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.
Philippians 1:3-6 (NIV)

On a day that we’ve set aside for taking stock and counting blessings, we also want to set aside a moment with you. We are so very thankful for you.

Those of us working behind the scenes of (in)courage and those of us sharing our words and our stories never once take it for granted that you show up in this place, inviting us into your inboxes and your lives, sharing your own stories and hearts.

Thank you for being part of this community. Thank you for being, as Paul says in the passage above, our partners in the gospel. We know He will complete the good work He’s begun in you, and we pray that your love and ours will abound more and more.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends!

 

Changing Our Posture by Practicing Gratitude

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My kids are fifteen months apart. All they’ve known is being with each other, occupying the same space, having a constant companion. My daughter’s like my husband — logical, introverted, often craving space to herself so she can read or play unbothered. My son, on the other hand, is like me — affectionate, empathetic, always craving company and someone to play with. When they’re apart, they miss each other, wondering what the other is up to, what things they might be missing out on that the other is doing. They play well and fight well; it’s a can’t-live-with-or-without-each-other situation.

The other day, after some one-on-one time with my son at home, we go to pick up my daughter from my sister’s house. Less than five minutes into the car ride home, they start arguing, their tones twisting into whines and their voices rising in volume and sass. I have no patience for this. They had woken up that morning, complaining about the other, and so I yell, “You’re already fighting?! Why can’t you just be nice to each other?! That’s it! No one can talk until we get home!”

They scrunch their faces at me in frustration, but I don’t relent. We all need a timeout to take a breather, to let our emotions simmer down. Their last whines fade out, and as we drive the rest of the way home in silence, my anger subsides. I recognize my overreaction, and I remember the conversation my husband and I had about how it seems that every podcast or sermon or health tip we listen to these days talks about practicing gratitude.

Am I grateful or do I whine just like the kids do? Am I grateful even for them? If they’re gifts from God, how do I practice gratitude when I’ve lost my patience and yelled at them, when they don’t behave as I wish they would?

I check my heart and see the rigidity of my posture. When provoked, I often stand on a soapbox of my own righteousness and lord it over my kids, my finger wagging, my tone condescending. I feel entitled to them conforming to my ways, to complete obedience the first time every single time. I want them to play well with each other, to be happy and grateful.

But I realize that my expectations for their behavior is unrealistic. Though I want them to learn to listen, to respect me and each other, I’m asking for robots instead of children who need grace and reminders. And am I not also a child who needs the same things from the Father?

I’m not much different from my kids — I also need to try again, to use my words nicely, to say sorry and ask for forgiveness. I get off my soapbox and relax my stance. I look into the rearview mirror and see their faces, obediently quiet. I can tell they’re ready to be silly again, and I’m grateful their spirits haven’t been broken.

Our posture determines our attitude, and I’m understanding why so many people across the spectrum are talking about practicing gratitude. Gratitude changes our posture, and practicing gratitude means we must slow down our minds and our hearts to remember, recount, and recognize what we have to be grateful for. It helps us to make mental and emotional shifts throughout the day when it’s not going well, and it grounds us and gives us a better perspective.

Today has been much like yesterday, with the same arguments and whining, but my posture is softer, my heart more open. I’m running through the things I’m grateful for, and this is what I know:

I’m thankful for my kids, whom I get to raise and love and who make me proud and make me laugh. I’m thankful for second chances throughout the day, so we don’t have to be stuck in bad attitudes and crabby moods. I’m thankful for newfound creativity even in the mess of this year. I’m thankful for quiet hours when I get to work without interruption. I’m thankful for the work I get to do in caring for people’s words and guiding others with my own. I’m thankful that at the end of a long day, I have a comfy bed to fall into and the potential of a new day awaiting me.

I’m thankful for the depth yet simplicity of living out our faith and for Jesus who walked the way ahead of us. All is grace in Him, and all thanks be to Him.

What are you grateful for today?

 

Here’s to a Simple Christmas

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A simple Christmas — don’t we all, to some degree, hope for just this? For an opportunity to opt out of the hustle and bustle this season generally brings?

There always seems to be just so much to do. So many places to be. So much to accomplish. Gifts to purchase and then wrap and then deliver. Cards to order, sign, and send. Cookies to bake, gatherings to host, friends to see. Traditions to uphold, family to visit, floors to scrub.

But this year, many things are different, yet a few big things remain.

It reminds me of the analogy of “big rocks vs. little rocks.” The big rocks of our lives are to be placed into the bucket first. These are our foundations, our top priorities, and values: family, faith, treasured rituals and traditions. Basically, the big rocks are that which we hold most dear. Then the little rocks are placed into the bucket. These are the things that fill the rest of our lives: work, hobbies, activities, family management, and the like. Smaller than big rock items but still meaningful and important.

This Christmas, it feels like most of my little rocks are gone and all that remains in my bucket are the big rocks. And you know, it’s not all bad.

Often we look to Christmas as a kind of anchor for our traditions and celebrations, and this year many of those will not be able to happen or will need to be so modified that they will feel entirely different. But instead of throwing me off, I’m welcoming this rare chance for a simpler Christmas.

A cleared-off calendar, free of concerts, programs, and the need for coordinated outfits. No parties to host, clean, and cook for, purchase and wrap gifts for, or muster up the energy to attend. Fewer people to shop for and more people to pray for.

It’s as though all the extras, the small rocks, for better or not, have been removed, and what’s left are simply the biggest rocks — Christ born, family near, and love all around.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)

Even in these ever-changing times, God is good, and Christmas will come. Will it look different? Likely. Will we grieve parts of our celebrations that are missing? Yes and that’s okay. Will we ever again have the chance to focus so clearly on the biggest rock of all – preparing for and celebrating the birth of Jesus? Maybe not.

So let’s take it. Let’s shift our focus, difficult as it may be, to entering this holiday season with courageous simplicity rather than grieving our no longer full schedules.

The simple truth is that Christmas faithfully comes to us no matter what.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.
John 1:14 (NIV)

Post by Anna E. Rendell

We want you to enjoy a heartfelt, simplified Christmas this year. So we’ve gathered a few of our favorite (in)courage words on this very subject, and we want to share them with you!

Sign up for this FREE Simple Christmas 5-day email series, and we will send you five daily emails with encouragement to be present and celebrate this special season with courageous simplicity. Join us and get your holidays off to a simply great start.

Sign up for the FREE Simple Christmas email series!

Hope and Heartache During the Holidays

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On a fall morning over a decade ago, I sat in a circle of women whose ages and stories varied. We clutched coffee cups and held in our emotions, no one wanting to be the first to share. What did we all have in common? Being part of a class at my church called “Interrupted Expectations.” I, as a counseling intern and co-facilitator, felt the pressure to say something brilliant but instead stared at the carpet.

Our leader, Jan Stockdale, pulled out a box of twenty-four crayons which she said represented our emotions. She showed us the whole range of colors but only pulled out two, black and white. “Most of us,” she said, “were only allowed to experience or express a narrow range of emotions. But what about all the rest?”

Everyone in the group had experienced some kind of loss, whether of a person, job, or dream. I was struggling with infertility. “Loss leads to grief,” Jan said, “and grief leads to messy emotions that aren’t black and white.”

I’ve been thinking of this again recently because humanity has endured a year of loss. Perhaps similar to the ones in my class, but also the loss of normalcy, routine, and a sense of security. Now it’s the holidays, which are supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year — only what if they’re not?

When I think of the crayon all of us are holding right now, that we might not know quite what to do with, it’s disappointment. Psychologist David Brandt has studied disappointment for decades, and he says, “Disappointment is unmet expectation.”

This is a relief to me. I worry sometimes that disappointment is a lack of faith. But that’s not true — it’s simply a human reaction to life not turning out the way we had hoped. It’s an emotion, a crayon in our box, that helps us make sense of loss.

How do we effectively deal with disappointment?

First, we can identify our loss by using this sentence: I hoped to ______ but ______ so I’m disappointed. For example, I hoped to be with my parents for Thanksgiving but COVID-19 kept me from traveling so I’m disappointed.

Then we can ask, “What else am I feeling that’s related to this disappointment?” Jan Stockdale says common emotions are “loneliness, helplessness, fear, jealousy, envy, rejection, depression, rage, anxiety, dread, confusion, panic, disappointment, despair, and resentment.”

We can bring all of what we’re feeling to God.

Next, we can ask, “What do I need right now?” The answer might be a nap, a conversation with a trusted friend, or making an appointment with a counselor. Choose one thing, even if it’s small, and take action.

Finally, Brandt says what helps most with disappointment is gratitude. Why? Because it shifts our focus from what could have been to what actually is.

I have a stack of paper leaves that I like to pull out at Thanksgiving. We pass them around our table and each of us record a blessing from the year. This year I want to do it differently, to set a box of twenty-four crayons on the table then write a disappointment on one side of the leaf and a gift on the other.

Heartache/Hope

Loss/Gain

Hurt/Healing

We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us.
Romans 5:3-5 NLT (emphasis mine)

God’s love is big enough to handle all of our emotions, strong enough to see us through this hard season, faithful enough to never let us go, and near to us when we need it most and beyond our expectations.

If you (or someone you love) could use a little extra encouragement right now, Holley’s book What Your Heart Needs for the Hard Days might be just what you need.

 

Begin Today with Thanksgiving

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Let the whole earth shout triumphantly to the Lord!
Serve the Lord with gladness;
come before him with joyful songs.
Acknowledge that the Lord is God.
He made us, and we are his—
his people, the sheep of his pasture.
Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise.
Give thanks to him and bless his name.
For the Lord is good, and his faithful love endures forever;
his faithfulness, through all generations.
Psalm 100 (CSB)

A posture of gratitude can shift our perspective and our hearts to see God in the present moment. In suffering pain and grief, in dealing with annoyances and inconveniences, in waiting for hope and good news, we can still practice being thankful. This seemingly trite exercise has the power to change our groans to praise and to make us aware of God who is always with us.

Practicing gratitude can look like writing down a list of things you’re grateful for — the beauty of fall, the laughter of children, the perfectly boiled egg, the coming of Advent — or it can be a list of things God has done in the past that you want to remember again. It can be bullet points of God’s promises that you’re clinging onto in the thick of things or how you see God working in those around you. Whatever it is, write it down today — in a journal, on a post-it, or even in the comments below.

Let’s begin this day with a heart of thanksgiving!

Tell us one thing you’re grateful for today!

Our Desire for a Redemption Story

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Because my husband spends two to three hours a day driving to and from work, we’re selling our home of fifteen years to move closer to his office and many of our friends, family, and activities. We last moved when our youngest daughter was six weeks old, the year after my mother passed away. For multiple reasons, that period was a mix of joy and sorrow blurred by sleep deprivation and the exhaustion of caring for and moving a family of ten.

After months of painting everything in sight (that’s me), carrying away a million boxes to storage or Goodwill (that’s my husband), and searching houses on Zillow like it’s our job, we finally put a “Coming Soon” sign in the yard and started scheduling appointments to visit available homes in earnest. 

I liked to imagine the other sellers, busily preparing our future home for us, just as we painted, cleaned, and polished ours for its new owners. The outcome was a mystery to us all but firmly in God’s control. He would know which house would become our home and the family that would live in ours.

At first, it seemed this buying and selling of houses would be easy. We initially put a contingency contract on a newly remodeled home with a private, wooded lot and received an offer on our home the day before it officially went on the market. But when the time came for the home inspection, we were surprised at what we found.

It began with comforting observations about the sturdiness of the exterior, the years of wear left on the roof, and the new kitchen cabinets and appliances. I felt pretty good about this potential home. But when we looked beneath the surface, things began to get ugly. Drainage issues and blocked ventilation had created mold and rotting wood in the crawl space. There was evidence of squirrels in the attic and snakes and mice in the crawlspace, and dirt and leaves filled the drains extending from the roof and the foundation.

At the end of two long, discouraging days of collecting estimates to resolve the problems, it was hard to believe this was the same house we had chosen above all others and put our earnest money on the week before. It suddenly seemed so flawed.

How could a home with so much promise be in such disrepair underneath?

The last two owners had been investors who had never lived in or loved on it. The first had rented it out, and the second wanted to flip it without concern for the condition it was in.

But I wanted to make s’mores in the outdoor fireplace, plant hydrangeas and azaleas around the mailbox, put a patio heater and our old couch on the side porch, and gather my children and grandchildren within its walls this Christmas and for years to come.

I wanted to take this lovely, neglected house and make it my home. I wanted to redeem it though there was work to be done and a cost to do it.

In the end, it wasn’t the house for us even though I wanted to provide it a redemption story that mirrors the one my soul loves. In spite of my brokenness, Jesus saved me with the blood of the cross and guaranteed me a forever home.

In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace . . .
Ephesians 1:7 (NKJV)

Sometimes, I feel like that house — seemingly put together and painted over, but in disrepair. Chances are, you do too. And just like a fresh coat of paint and an interior remodel doesn’t fix a house’s underlying problems, no amount of primp and polish will heal us on the inside either.

But here’s the good news, sisters: Although the price of our redemption was high, Jesus offered Himself as the ultimate sacrifice and marked us “paid in full.” He secured our future home in heaven, where we will live forever with Him in glory, fully healed inside and out, complete and whole.

My hope in a heavenly home is sure, but just as we await that day, our family can’t wait to find the home God has prepared for us here.

How to Untangle Your Heart and Not Miss God’s Fingerprints

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My heart is often tangled, a crisscross of hopes and dreams, worries and what-ifs and never-ending to-do lists. I pray throughout the day, offering each twisted strand to God, asking Him to unravel that which leaves me feeling knotted up — in the first moments of the morning before my feet hit the floor, in “Fix-it-Jesus” desperation when I’m DONE helping kids through distance learning and laggy internet, in quiet reflection as I wash the evening dishes.

When the phone rings with bad news, when the workload looms heavy, when a friend texts a request, when someone is sick, when a great email comes in, before dinner, at the side of my son’s bed — all day long I talk to God.

I’m so grateful that God turns His ear to our prayers.

I love the encouragement we receive in Hebrews 4:16: “Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

How incredible that we have access to God’s throne! Driving to work or changing diapers, sautéing onions or taking out the trashcans, on bended knee or knee-deep in dirty laundry, in every moment of our day, we have the opportunity to pray. Though conversation with the Creator is not hindered by time or place, I have found that there is something really significant about praying through writing.

I’ve been journaling my prayers for twenty years. Sometimes I am faithful in the discipline. Other times months go by between committing my concerns to Jesus through pen and paper. But I never regret when I take the time to scrawl out my requests to God.

There’s something clarifying that happens in the writing. The tangled thoughts become a little clearer. The heaviness of trials becomes a bit lighter when I remember through the rhythm of ink that the burden is not mine to carry alone. And perhaps the greatest gift in journaling my prayers is having a written record that reminds me what I prayed and how God answered!

In the haze of the mundane or seasons of crisis, it’s easy to forget so many of the things I talked to God about. Sometimes it’s not until I look back through a prayer journal that I am able to see the awe-inspiring evidence of God’s hand at work. If I hadn’t recorded the request, I likely would have missed the answer — missed giving God the glory due Him.

As we finish out the final six weeks of 2020 and step into a new year, I don’t want to miss God’s fingerprints in my life. I don’t want to overlook the proof of His power or the mark of His presence. So today I’m going to begin using my new (in)courage Take Heart Prayer Journal from DaySpring. A companion to our new devotional, each day of the Take Heart Prayer Journal starts with a Scripture passage and a truth for today. Then there’s space to record what you’re grateful for and your prayer requests.

I think often of Paul’s encouragement to the Colossians: “Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful.”

As God’s daughters, we can pray boldly and expectantly, knowing the Father hears our requests. Journaling helps us be watchful — expectantly waiting His response — which naturally leads our hearts to gratitude for all that God has done and will yet do. There’s nothing better than recognizing how God has moved on your behalf! I love writing down the answer to my prayers in the margin of my journal.

Want to join me in training your heart to pray, be watchful, and give thanks? You can grab your copy of the Take Heart Prayer Journal here. (Or use any journal or notebook you have on hand!)

We’re also giving away FIVE sets of the Take Heart Prayer Journal and devotional, Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay.

To enter, leave a comment sharing your favorite way to pray or a recent answer to prayer!

Giveaway ends 11/25/20 at 11:59 pm CST and is open to US addresses only. Winners will be notified by email.  

 

Let the Plates Fall When Worry Spins Out of Control

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I love autumn. Summer is so bright and intense, I wake up feeling obligated to go somewhere and do something.  People are always asking, “What are your plans for the summer?” There is pressure to have an exciting destination in your back pocket, but the truth is, I just want to eat lots of peaches, watch some good summer flicks, and hang out at the beach in my flip flops.

Fall is more my style. It gets darker sooner, and everything slows down. It’s the perfect time to be outside too, if you ask me. Take hiking. There’s a lot less dust, and it’s quieter, except for the sound of a crunchy trail blanketed with falling leaves. It’s hard to beat.

I wish I felt the same about my worries. I wish they would slow down right along with nature. All the things I juggle around in my head are like plates I keep spinning, and they wear on my heart and keep my soul busy.

If only I could shed them the way the trees shed their leaves. If only I could let one fall.

We weren’t designed to keep everything in play all the time. Something got broken in us when Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden. We stopped trusting that God was good and that we were the apple of His eye. Now, we’re suspicious of letting go and letting God take us through the natural course of things.

Of course, if we were to change the subject and talk about laundry, my problem with letting go dissipates. My husband probably wishes otherwise, but I’m good at not sweating the small stuff. I like to worry about big problems. I get such a great mental workout from organizing unresolved questions and playing out different scenarios. However, I recently started to get tired of keeping up with all the activity, trying to work everything out to its optimal outcome. I even noticed I stopped laughing at my own jokes.

Even in matters of faith, especially when it comes to pleasing God, we can put so much pressure on ourselves to live fruitful lives. We forget that fruitfulness comes from allowing God to work in us through our circumstances — not from our ability to effectively make everything work out right. 

There comes a time when God brings us all into an autumn season. Where there was once fervor and activity, He calls us to let go and slow down. He doesn’t quiet our lives because we’ve done something bad. God does it to release us from the burden of keeping things alive that really should be dying.

It’s in my nature to hold onto my problems, relationships, and ideals so that I can work them out on my own. But God in His abounding love says to me, There are necessary endings, Bonnie. Let the plates fall. They need to break. Let Me take care of you. 

Intense pressure might work well to achieve a difficult goal. It may even be necessary if we are thrown headlong into a crisis or involuntarily trapped in a stressful relationship. But it can only last for so long before it leaves us weighed down and overloaded.

Sometimes we put so much pressure on ourselves to live fruitful lives that we lose faith and end up collapsing under the pressure. 

God’s idea of a purposeful life is so different from ours. He wants us to trust Him so completely that we would risk letting go and place ourselves willingly in the uncomfortable position of surrender.

When we can trust Him with our endings, we discover He can carry us. We see the beauty of leaves falling and understand we can experience this beauty in our souls. We learn to recognize the voice of Love that calls to us behind the shattering of plates falling, and we know God can sustain us.

When our worries spin out of control, let’s not be worried about letting the plates fall. They can fall and break, and God’s love still holds us together.

I am Thine, O Lord,
I have heard Thy Voice,
And it told Thy love to me;
But I long to rise in the arms of faith
and be closer drawn to Thee.
“I Am Thine, O Lord” (Fanny Crosby)

What plates are you spinning that God is inviting you to let fall?

Want soul relief + God’s love? Sign up here for Bonnie’s Beloved Newsletter for peaceful Advent series + soul care tips. Follow me on Instagram & Facebook @thebonniegray. I’ll encourage you & lift your faith to feel beautiful as God’s beloved! Join my newsletter here!

The Hardest Thing About Anxiety and Depression

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One of the hardest things about anxiety and depression (at least for me) is not being able to always name it or explain it. Sometimes I can identify the triggers. I can feel a fresh swell and call it out for what it is — mental illness. But other times it’s just tears below the surface at the dinner table. It’s heightened irritability at my children. It’s an unsettled spirit and coffee jitters I can’t shake and wishing all the people and responsibilities would just go away (even when I love my people and my work). It’s feeling defeated by a task I know I’m capable of doing. Exhausted after a full night’s sleep. An undercurrent of sadness that doesn’t match my circumstances. ⁣
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When I finally realized what was happening recently, I admitted this new wave of not-okay to my husband. “I’m struggling but I’m fine,” I said as huge tears dropped into my sparkling water. ⁣
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“You don’t look fine,” he said. ⁣
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And this is the tension of anxiety and depression: being simultaneously fine and undone, wanting to be seen and wanting to hide.⁣
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I’m fine in the sense that Jesus has walked with me through these shadows before and He is walking with me now. I’ve sunk into the pit of anxiety, and I’ve walked the peaks of recovery. I’ve wallowed in the unspoken valley of depression and cried enough closed-door tears to buoy up to a cliff where I could climb out. My faith is strong yet days like today I just feel weak. ⁣⁣

I get up and make the coffee and cook the eggs. I play card games with my family. I plug away at the project. The struggle will eventually ebb. This I know. That’s the grace of years — the lived experience that what I feel today won’t always be this way.⁣⁣

This weekend I bawled my way through a novel. It was cathartic to let the tears flow. Afterward I thought I was all cried out, then I realized I wasn’t. ⁣
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Fine and unfine is like a teeter-totter I can’t get off of. This is anxiety and depression. ⁣⁣
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I’m preparing to speak at a conference about anxiety. I know the Scriptures. I can coach a friend. I can say all the right things, implement the coping strategies I learned in therapy. Sometimes it helps tremendously. And sometimes it still doesn’t change the tears that flow and the mind that races and the sleep that eludes me and the sleep that beckons me. ⁣⁣This is anxiety and depression. ⁣⁣Looking for a detox near me to get out of this zone is a good idea.
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I’ll be honest, I want a quick fix, a five-step fail-proof plan. I want my knowledge and experience to seamlessly move me into healing. I don’t like staying in the tension. ⁣⁣
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But I’m learning. I’m learning that maybe healing looks like feeling the feelings and asking Jesus to sit with me in it. ⁣⁣Maybe that’s the one thing we all can do today, right where you are. In your okay and not okay-ness, just be. And invite someone to be with you. ⁣⁣

Even though I’m anchored in the unshakable hope of Jesus, I wanted to share my in-the-thick-of-it season in case there’s someone else out there who is also fighting an undercurrent of sadness. I want you to know you’re not alone in the darkness. Your feelings and experiences are valid even if you can’t fully name them or explain them. ⁣
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And I want you to hear this:⁣
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If you’re thinking about letting a friend into your darkness, do it. ⁣
If you’re thinking about going back to counseling or going for the first time, do it.⁣
If you just need to sit at the table and cry, do it.⁣
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The struggle of anxiety and depression does not define you — but giving voice to it will let the light begin to shine in.

 

The Humility of Accepting the Offerings of Others

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My mom showed us how to love others well.

Growing up, she filled our kitchen with the smells of chicken casserole or homemade lasagna when we learned of someone in our church with a loss in the family. She buzzed around the kitchen with a sense of purpose, and I loved how she always included fresh salad, bread, and dessert with the meal.

At the holidays, she taught us the joy of giving by filling bags with gifts and clothing for others in need. And it was never just one little present but bags full. She folded precise edges to the wrapping paper and taped them down with care. She held the ribbons taut and used the edge of a pair of scissors to curl them for an extra special touch, just as she would for us.

And as a teacher, I watched her go above and beyond for her middle school students. I lost count of the number of students who wrote about my mom’s giving spirit and encouragement in their college admissions essays.

Whenever I struggled with loneliness or sadness in adolescence and early adulthood, she encouraged me to look around. By finding others who were hurting, I could take my eyes off of my own pain for just a little while and be a friend to others who needed love too.

As I entered into adulthood, my mom’s example of serving and giving naturally became a part of my interactions with others. I’d smile to myself when I’d bring meals to friends with new babies, with a dish towel underneath the hot dish on the front seat of my minivan, reminding me of the exact way my mom transported her meals. I looked for ways to love others at work, church, and in my community. There were always more ways to give and more people to love. And these loving acts I offered made me feel good, like I was doing something important for those in need.

But then I became the “least of these” as a young, divorced single mom in my mid-twenties. As I navigated my new status as a single parent, one of my biggest struggles was realizing how much help I needed. I worked two jobs and lived paycheck to paycheck, sometimes skipping meals so that my son would have enough to eat. I obsessively checked my bank account balance, holding my breath for another overdraft fee if a bill came out too early. I wanted to be the one pouring out and loving well, but in my emotional, physical, and financial exhaustion, I had nothing left.

God met me there — empty, broken-hearted, and with nothing left to give. He showed up in the helpers when I suddenly found myself identifying as the one in need.

The King will reply, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”
Matthew 25:40 (NIV)

One woman in my church often handed me a stack of coupons when she saw me. “Not sure if you could use these, but I just thought I’d pass them along,” she said each time.

My coworker and her husband spent an entire day with me at my new apartment painting my living room the soft mint color I picked out. I was so embarrassed for how long the project took, but they joyfully gave up their day to help me without my asking twice.

A huge glass jar full of coins and dollar bills showed up in a paper grocery bag on my door step one month, meeting the need for an unexpected bill I had no idea how to pay. To this day, I still have no idea who gifted it to us.

While it can sometimes be easier as Christ followers to pour ourselves out and show others love through our giving, there are also times when we need to learn to receive.

In that humbling and hard season, God taught me the humility of accepting the offerings of others. He used the people around me to be the hands and feet of Jesus.

After a crisis or right around the expected times, like the holidays, lots of people show up and say with the best intentions, “Please let me know if you need anything.”

But as the one who has now walked through deep need, I’ve learned the beauty of the quiet helpers who show up without asking, who see a need and step in to serve, who love without expectation of a thank you or acknowledgement, who see the least of these and give of themselves. I want to be that kind of helper.

There is certainly a time to mourn and a time to laugh, a time to plant and a time to uproot, and yes, a time to give and a time to receive. May we be humble enough to give without expectation and to receive help when we need it. There is a time and a season for both.