To Him Who Keeps Us From Stumbling

To Him Who Keeps Us From Stumbling

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Now to him who is able to protect you from stumbling and to make you stand in the presence of his glory, without blemish and with great joy, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, power, and authority before all time, now and forever. Amen.
Jude 24-25 (CSB)

We stumble through life, making mistakes, falling into temptations, sinning, and learning the depth and breadth of God’s grace. We look forward to the day when we will be fully redeemed, but in the meantime, God doesn’t leave us on our own to figure things out. He is able to protect us, strengthen us, teach us and guide us to the day we will stand in His glorious presence.

God, our Savior, You understand our humanness. Thank You for not separating Yourself from us even when we sin and when we stumble along. Instead, You come in close, show us the truth, and invite us to live by grace. Your never-ending patience reminds us that we can trust You won’t ever abandon us and leave us to our own demise. When You intervene, may we be open to Your correction and guidance. May we be humble enough to recognize where we’ve gone wrong and repent. And may we be willing to be transformed from glory to glory until we stand in Your presence and see You face to face. Amen. 

An Act of Courageous Simplicity

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Now a woman suffering from bleeding for twelve years had endured much under many doctors. She had spent everything she had and was not helped at all. On the contrary, she became worse. Having heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his clothing. For she said, “If I just touch his clothes, I’ll be made well.” Instantly her flow of blood ceased, and she sensed in her body that she was healed of her affliction.

At once Jesus realized in himself that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?”

His disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing against you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?’”

But he was looking around to see who had done this. The woman, with fear and trembling, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. “Daughter,” he said to her, “your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be healed from your affliction.”
Mark 5:25-34 (CSB)

Twelve YEARS. For twelve years this woman had suffered, bleeding without relief. Because women were considered unclean during their menstrual cycles during ancient times, it’s likely she had spent those years not just weak and possibly in pain, but shunned and isolated, with no one willing to touch her or come near. Desperation had sent her to doctor after doctor through the years, but not one had been able to help her. Instead, we’re told, her condition had gotten worse.

Though we don’t know what treatment this woman had been given in her pursuit of healing, we know that she had “endured much” and was sicker than ever before. The treatment for her affliction may have actually been just as harmful as her illness itself, and yet her desperation pushed her to continue seeking out a remedy. By the time she heard about Jesus she was likely weak, discouraged, and afraid. But this didn’t stop her from trying one more time.

Used to being unseen, unwanted, and untouchable, the woman did not approach Jesus. She did not look Him in the eye and ask for help. She did not cry out in her pain, begging for help. A leader and teacher like Him knew full well He could not come near someone unclean, so she probably assumed.

Instead of inviting Him near her, she kept to the shadows, walking behind Him and reaching out, merely touching His clothing for help, and probably hoping He would not notice. In that moment she found the strength to hope again, to reach for the help she so dreadfully needed, and to believe that healing might still be possible. That hope led her to the Savior and Healer, the only One who could give her true relief.

Her hope — and maybe her healing — gave the woman courage. When Jesus felt power leave Him, He asked who had touched Him. The woman did not hide or run away, though she may have wanted to out of habit. Instead, she fell on her knees before her Healer and Savior and confessed. She didn’t know how He would react or what He would do to her, but she had integrity and respect for the One who had finally cured her disease. What a relief it must have been when Jesus looked at her and simply said, “Daughter, your faith has saved you.”

Perhaps you, too, are suffering an affliction that keeps you isolated and seems incurable. Perhaps you have struggled with something for years — physical or emotional or spiritual or relational — seeking help around every corner but finding no relief at all. Maybe you’ve been fighting a battle for so long that you’ve traded your determination and desperation for resignation and resentment. Don’t give up hope, friend! Don’t settle for distance between you and the Lord; don’t begin believing that isolation is all there is for you.

The beauty of the bleeding woman’s story is that it illustrates how ready Jesus is to heal us. He doesn’t require us to make a formal request; He doesn’t demand that we make payments or promises. He simply wants us to reach out to Him with hope. If we reach out to Him, like the woman of this story reached for His clothing, He will respond. His reaction to our faith and need is reflexive; our faith in His ability to step in activates a loving response from Him every time. He may not heal us in the timing or in the way that we assume is best, but He will not ignore us. He will not leave us bleeding in the road. He will respond to us with grace and peace and help when we need it most.

After years of suffering, after spending everything she had, after being disappointed over and over, this woman still had hope. She still believed that the man she’d heard of, the one teaching and performing miracles, could help her. She still had enough faith to brave a crowd, a reprimand, and another letdown. And this time, it was worth it. Her hope for healing led to her faith in the Healer, and she found freedom from all her afflictions that day. May we be as bold in our belief and as hopeful in our pursuit of help and care from the Lord.

Written by Mary Carver, as published in Women of Courage: a Forty-Day Devotional, from the (in)courage community.

Impacting Others Like Ripples Across the Water

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In January of 2016, My husband and I made the drive from Northern Virginia to Southern Maryland to spend an evening with family. While the meal was being prepared, my brother, Dan, sister-in-law, Kayla, and I stood in the corner of the kitchen, talking and laughing, as usual. I shared about our recent move and our search for connection. I shrugged and explained that I knew the importance of community, but I just didn’t know how to find it. My brother, six years younger yet so much wiser, said, “If you want to build community and make connections, you need to serve.”

His new wife, Kayla, smiled and nodded. She was living out her mission to love God and others by serving on their church’s hospitality team. She knew a simple cup of coffee could forge a connection, bring a smile, and create community.

I didn’t know the impact this single conversation would soon have on my life. Seeing Dan and Kayla together warmed every heart who knew them. They were brought together by God to impact His Kingdom far beyond what we could comprehend. Dan’s words stayed with me as we traveled back home in search of that community I was craving. I thought about the way he had dedicated his life to serving God and the church through his talent as a musician. In following God’s lead, he was able to bless others with the gifts God had given him. At ages twenty and twenty-one, they both had a clear understanding of where they were meant to be, and it was inspiring to watch them live each day with purpose and intentionality.

One month later, on Valentine’s Day, we received the devastating news that Dan and Kayla had been in a car accident. On their way home from their six-month wedding anniversary dinner, a driver under the influence struck their vehicle, and Dan and Kayla had gone home to be with the Lord.

Our world stood still. We tried to wrap our minds around a future that wouldn’t look anything like the one we had pictured. Each morning brought new waves of grief, and still, as I read the Psalms and prayed for strength, I felt the Lord closer than ever. Losing two people so rooted in their purpose created in me the strongest desire to follow their lead and pursue God’s purpose for my life. A new perspective emerged from my brokenness. For the first time, I craved heaven more than anything on earth.

As my perspective shifted, so did my desire to live differently. I continued to pray for an opportunity to serve the way they did. I loved my career in interior design but felt the pull to pursue something more ministry-minded. In a leap of faith, I left my job and begin the search for a home-based business. Late one evening, my search brought me to the Mary & Martha website for the very first time. I opened the page to find beautiful home decor, Scripture, and a message that read “Welcome, Serve, Connect.” My eyes welled with tears. In my head, I heard Dan’s voice. In my heart, I felt God’s nudge. Purpose-filled products that aligned with my passion. Christ-centered community. Connection. A place to serve. In the midst of my deepest sorrow, my heart was filled with joy to find a place like this.

Within Mary & Martha, I connected with a beautiful sisterhood all across the U.S. I was instantly surrounded by like-minded women who lifted me up, prayed for me, and came alongside me in living out my calling. Four months later, I attended Mary & Martha’s national conference, and stepping into that conference room felt like coming home. Full of warmth, joy, and worship, the weekend with this community was an answer to prayer. They were on a mission to serve and embraced the call to love God and others in all they do.

At the end of the conference, we were handed a beautiful quote by Roy Lessin, co-founder of our parent company, DaySpring. It read, “When a stone is dropped into a lake, it quickly disappears from sight — but its impact leaves behind a series of ripples that broaden and reach across the water. In the same way, the impact of one life lived for Christ leaves behind an influence for good that touches the lives of many others.”

I saw this firsthand through Dan and Kayla’s beautiful lives. I knew that God had led me to Mary & Martha to continue the ripple of good they had begun. Knowing God is in control and working through us in this way brings me peace.

Loss has taught me that every day, every moment, and every conversation matters. As Christ-followers, we are called to reach across our communities, to impact them like ripples across the water. My prayer is that you would be encouraged to build community, make connections, and serve as you live out God’s unique purpose for you.

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.
1 Peter 4:10 (NIV)

What a beautiful story from Jess! Imagine being part of a faith-based company where you create your own schedule, share inspirational products, earn unlimited income, and belong to a sisterhood of women! If you’d like more information, discover the Mary & Martha difference today!

And to get a glimpse of their wonderful products, Mary & Martha is giving away FIVE of these printed canvas magnetic signs, valued at $98! Comment below with what you loved hearing about their company for a chance to win!

 

Giveaway closes 11:59pm CST on October 14. US addresses only. 

The Day I Had a Panic Attack at Costco

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I was having a panic attack right there at Costco.

It had been years since my last one. I’d shared about my journey of healing from emotional childhood trauma and learning to rest in God’s love in my book, Finding Spiritual Whitespace. I thought my wounds had healed. But as I was working on my new book proposal, preparing to share more vulnerable stories, I went shopping at Costco one day, and after realizing I had forgotten milk, I turned my cart around to go get it when bam! I came face to face with someone who had hurt me from my past. This person had caused deep wounds, taking me years of therapy to heal. I hadn’t seen this person in years since I had learned to establish safe boundaries to keep myself from being harmed through verbal and emotional abuse.

My eyes locked with this person’s, and though I’d wondered if this person would ever soften, what I saw before me made me afraid. My heart rate jumped, pounding like a jack hammer against my chest. I didn’t want to stand there to be hurt again, so I made a beeline and zipped to the back of the store. I am a college-educated, grown mom of two boys. Yet, I hid behind the store shelves. I started having trouble breathing. I was dizzy and nauseous, choking and unable to take full breaths. My body lit on fire, tears pushing from deep.

As I stood there, afraid this person was searching for me in the store to chew me out, I felt God whisper, You are my beloved. You don’t have to hide. You are my daughter.

I didn’t want to call my husband Eric at work because he had critical deadlines, so I decided to find the store manager.

I found Mike.

I was shaky, trembling, and asked, “Hi, this is a weird request, but I need help. I ran into someone from my past who emotionally hurt me, and I’m scared they’ll cause a scene. Maybe they’re waiting for me outside to yell at me. Can you escort me to my car?”

“I won’t let this person hurt you. You are safe. I will help you.” Mike said.

You are safe.

At the sound of these three words, I started crying out of his kindness. God was reassuring me through Mike’s words. ”I’m so embarrassed,” I confessed.

“Don’t be. You’re not the only one who runs into people here who need support. Exes, family members . . . people.” he replied.

Mike looked at me and said, ”I won’t let them hurt you.”

As we left the store, Mike kept reassuring me, saying, “It’s going to be okay,” as he walked me to my car and loaded my groceries in the trunk.

Relieved to know I was safe, I turned to him to share a little more about my story of emotional hurt and healing. I shared how much his kindness and his words meant to me, so he would understand the significance when I said, “You are God’s blessing to me today. Thank you so much, Mike!”

I took a moment to ask him about his thoughts on faith. We chatted a bit. I listened. It turned out that I encouraged Mike too, because he felt so encouraged to know God was using him to bless others.

Friend, I share this story with you to encourage you today. I want you to know that you are worth loving. You can ask for help and draw boundary lines with toxic people. God desires to restore your wholeness and to heal you from your wounds. Sometimes, this will happen through the people He places in your life, so take a step of faith when they cross your path. Be open and receive.

And when you can offer the same kindness to another, pause and be present. Be a refuge and shelter so others can experience God’s comfort.

We are not alone in this journey of life. We are God’s beloved, and we do not need to be afraid.

For I am with you and no one will attack and harm you, because I have many people in this city.
Acts 18:10 (NIV)

How has someone been kind to you during these hard days? How can you be God’s kindness to someone else?

What is your story, friend? Join me in a FREE Online Writer’s Conference where I’ll help you write the God-story in you! Register here to watch free – starting today! Want peace from anxiety? Sign up for my FREE Overcoming Anxiety Webinar here. Share these great resources to encourage your friends!

The Compliment You Should Desire Most

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When I was a little girl, my favorite thing to hear was that I was weird. Whether the words came affectionately from the lips of my mom or as a critical observation from the kid across the street, I didn’t care. “You’re so weird” made me beam — because I was weird.

I was a girl who happily (and confidently) marched to the beat of my own unrhythmic drum.

When I was seven years old, the year was 1989, and neon green biker shorts with a black polka dot skirt and a fluorescent pink tank top was my favorite outfit. But I took the typical bright 80’s color scheme to my own Becky level. I was sure to compliment my outfit with my beloved canvas dinosaur sneakers I got in the boys’ section. The shoes had boring white laces that didn’t meet my high fashion standards so I swapped them out for primary red.

Add to this charming ensemble the fact that I convinced my older sister to braid my hair in three sections and then crimp my bangs, and weird was probably the word that came to everyone’s mind.

At the tender age of seven, I had yet to grow a self-conscience bone. I was just me. Tree-climbing, alphabet-burping, puzzle-solving, book-loving, roller-blading Becky. And I was hungry for affirmation of what I knew was true — that I was perfectly, wonderfully, and weirdly made.

Gosh, I was a great kid.

At thirty-eight, I’m still great, but somewhere between then and now, my hunger for compliments shifted. Somewhere along the way I stopped wanting to be seen for exactly me, and I started striving to please others.

Instead of weird, I wanted to be beautiful. Instead of unique, I wanted to be accepted, influential, admirable, successful. I started caring about others liking me more than I cared about liking myself.

And even deeper than that, I started forgetting who God said I am — perfectly and wonderfully made — and I tried to cram myself into a mold that wasn’t made for me.

Have you done this too?

It’s natural for our childhood selves to mature into adolescents with greater self-awareness and then into adults with age-appropriate inhibitions. But that doesn’t mean shoving down, casting out, or numbing over the parts of ourselves that make us stand out for the sake of blending in or receiving positive recognition.

If you’re a dreamer, don’t cram yourself into the box of an analytical thinker.
If you’re loud, don’t let the world stifle your voice.
If you’re vibrant, don’t dull your edges.
If you’re intellectual or artsy or stoic or outdoorsy, don’t let an outside voice tell you that another personality or strength is more valuable and attractive.

The amazing thing about God is that He doesn’t make mistakes. Your shyness is on purpose. Your love for a good debate is intentional. Your fast talking or slow processing is not a mistake.

Do we each have areas where we need to grow? Absolutely! We are all on a journey of being refined and becoming more like Christ. But, friend, learning to love and look more like Jesus doesn’t negate the essential beauty of who you are already are.

One of my favorite quotes is credited to Saint Irenaeus, a 2nd century Greek bishop, who said, “The glory of God is man fully alive.”

God receives glory when we’re living into and out of the fullness of who He’s made us to be. Have you ever known someone who just sparkles? Who shines from the inside out, not because of what they did because of Who is in them? The Creator gets the glory when His creation stays true to His intentional design.

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.
Psalm 139:13-14 (CSB)

Do you know that you are God’s remarkable creation? If the belief has slipped into the cracks of time, let me be the one to remind you. Sister, the way God made you is wondrous! You are distinct. Set apart. A one-of-a-kind masterpiece!

What would happen if you lived like it?

These days I’m re-learning how to let the bright and bold confidence of my youth reemerge. I wear the vibrant turquoise tennis shoes that clash with most outfits. I make up silly songs and sing them off-key in the kitchen with my kids. I stay quiet when people expect me to speak. I keep writing about Jesus even if it’s not the popular thing.

I think it’s okay that I no longer want to be known as weird. Instead, I just want to be known as loved.

You are so loved.

Yes, that’s the greatest truth we could spend our lives walking to. When we walk with the assurance that we are God’s beloved daughters — holy and chosen and wonderfully made — we can be confident marching to whatever kind of rhythm and beat He gives us.

 

When We Don’t Have the Words to Pray: Threadbare Prayer Book Giveaway!

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My girlfriend was in town for a short visit with her family, and I wanted our lunch to be perfect. Our time together was precious to me, and I intended to make the most of it. I arrived at one of my favorite lunch spots a few minutes early to make sure we had just the right place to talk. I snagged a table by the window, ordered my salad and lemon cookie, and settled in to wait.

I began thinking about what I should share and how deep I should go in our limited time together. My husband had recently been released from the hospital, and we were trying to figure out how to return to some sort of normal life for our family of six. I knew my friend would be coming with her own story of loss and grief, and I wondered how I could share without adding to the burdens she was already carrying.

In the middle of my thoughts, I saw her walk through the doors. We hugged, and she ordered her lunch. To say I was grateful we were able to get a lunch date on the calendar would be an understatement. She was a brand-new mom and on a tight schedule. I was glad to simply sit at the same table with her, finding comfort even in the silences between our sentences. God had woven our lives together in extraordinary ways over the last couple of years as we each went through our share of heartache. It had been as though we were volleying support back and forth across an invisible tennis net. When she struggled, I was there for her, and vice versa. We had been stretched thin, and we were both now threadbare.

We quickly got through our meal, covering all the easy subjects before we dove into the hard ones. Eventually, I asked her pointedly, “How are you doing — really doing?” She paused as if searching for the right words and looked down at her hands before making eye contact with me.

“I’m not sure. This trial just felt so . . . personal.”

I understood exactly what she meant. Sometimes, trials feel as though they were tailor-made in such specific ways to cause us pain.

I exhaled and said, “I’m sorry. Maybe it feels personal because it just is.”

Since that day, her words have often come to mind, and I’ve gotten more honest with the Lord, telling Him that my trials feel personal and asking Him to help me make sense of it. And bit by bit, He has been taking my threadbare heart and doing that very thing. I offer Him my pain and confusion, my disappointment and worry, and He offers me comfort and hope through, what I call, Threadbare Prayers. These are prayers For the days when we most desperately need prayer but don’t have the words to form them, #threadbareprayerbook is the guide you need. Enter to win a copy!

That day, after our too-quick lunch date, I asked my friend to give me a verse so I could write a personal Threadbare Prayer especially for her. She shared with me Psalm 3:3:

But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.

And this is the prayer I wrote for her:

Lord, it wasn’t the first sign of trials that sent me headlong into a pit. But it was the second, fourth, fifth rounds that have greatly discouraged me. Still, I find deep encouragement in knowing that when I come to the end of myself, You are not exhausted. Instead, I can face the enemy, my fears, any trial that comes my way because You wrap me up in Your embrace and provide abundantly in Your presence. You lift my eyes upward, and I know on my worst days and in my fiercest battles that I can cry out to You. I can rest easy knowing that the battle belongs to You.

And for the days when my friend finds herself lacking words to pray, I gave her this Threadbare Prayer: Lord, You wrap me up safe.

A simple prayer can carry us through hard days and seasons. Perhaps you’re in a place where you’ve also come to the end of yourself and need help to pray. Take this Threadbare Prayer then too, and may it remind you that you are embraced, held up by the loving arms of God.

 

In Threadbare Prayer: Prayers for Hearts that Feel Hidden, Hurt, or Hopeless, Stacey Thacker presents 100 simple yet heartfelt devotions to guide you on the days you don’t know what to pray. Each entry in this attractive, gift-worthy devotional contains a Bible verse, a brief thought, and a simple, concise prayer to encourage the reader’s heart.

If you purchase two copies of Threadbare Prayer, Stacey will send you the companion five-day Bible study, The Mender: A Bible Study for Threadbare Hearts. To receive the study, complete this form (Offer ends November 30, 2020).

We know it’s been a very threadbare year for many, so we want to give away FIVE copies of Threadbare Prayer to five of you! Comment below with a verse that you’ve been holding onto in this season for a chance to win.

Giveaway closes October 9 at 11:59pm CST. Open to US addresses only.

What We Can Learn from the Leaves

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As long as the earth remains, there will be planting and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night.
Genesis 8:22 (NLT)

Here in Minnesota, the sticky-hot, long days of summer stretch deep into September, then finally in October the nighttime and early morning air gives way to a chill.

And that’s when the trees know winter is coming. They prepare for it from the inside out.

This knowledge that the trees have feels important, kind of enormous. The trees flourish and reveal their truest selves as their leaves are dying. God has built truth and theology into trees, and I want to sit at their roots and learn.

How do the leaves know when to drop their guard of green and give into the process of dying to themselves? Why do they trust the timing each and every year? Do they lean into it, or do they fight back, stubborn in giving into the inevitable blaze of color?

My eight-year-old loves playing the “Did you know?” game. He loves taking in random trivia and facts, then busting them out in any silence he encounters. It gives me joy when I can mix it up and slip a “Did you know?” of my own in for him. Friends, did you know that most leaves are not inherently green? The green is the cover up. Their green color comes from the presence of a chemical called chlorophyll that thrives in warmer climates and weather. We think of leaves most often as green, yet deep inside the leaf are other chemicals — each with a different color. When the shortened sunlight of autumn returns, the chlorophyll backs off and lets the other chemicals (colors) shine.

Isn’t that incredible? This article sums it up: “Along with the green pigment are yellow to orange pigments, carotenes and xanthophyll pigments which, for example, give the orange color to a carrot. Most of the year these colors are masked by great amounts of green coloring.”

What we think of as a death — the leaves giving in to the coming cold and dying — is actually them revealing their truest selves.

The weather reflects a gradual change. It’s cool; the breezes are still; but deep down at their roots, the trees know major change is coming. They know they are to be robing themselves in color, preparing for a brand-new season of beauty — while some remain green. Are they the ones fighting back, pushing against what they truly are deep inside?

It sounds senseless to fight for remaining faded and tired instead of bursting gold, red, and orange. Instead, we hope the leaves cast off their wilted end-of-summer green and embrace what is deep down in the core, the beauty God has placed there to reveal in His time.

Maybe in the middle of our own everyday mess, mixed right into the struggles, God is preparing us for something. Maybe He wants us to choose to take hold, to dig deeper, to look beyond the mess and frustration, to become the best version of ourselves, to reflect with unquestionable certainty the glory hidden in our hearts because of where God first chose to take up residence.

Let’s yield to living color, the kind that shines brightest when dying to self has happened first.

Lord, may the change quietly filling the air spark the same in my heart. May I allow it to wash over my life, brightening each nook and cranny and sweeping the corners clean of staleness. May cool air fill my lungs as I breathe in Your grace and breathe out the old. May I learn, embrace, marvel at what the trees know. Amen.

This devotion first appeared in Anna Rendell’s book, Pumpkin Spice for Your Soul. Anna welcomed a new baby this fall! Take a peek at her beautiful family!

How can you give in to the work God is doing quietly in your heart?

Love Over All: Love Overcomes

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I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble.
But take heart! I have overcome the world.
John 16:33 (NIV)

Every month of 2020, we introduce a new verse and look at a different aspect of what it means to put on Love Over All. We love everything about Love Over All (read more about it here) and can’t wait to share these amazing verses and ways to live them out with you!

October’s theme is Love Overcomes.

“In this world you will have trouble,” Jesus said.

And all the sisters and saints said amen. The reality of the world’s brokenness has been evident since the world began. It was true when Jesus walked the dusty earth with His disciples, and it’s true as true can be in 2020.

But Jesus didn’t stop there. Trouble is our reality, but so is victory. “Take heart!” Jesus said. “I have overcome the world.”

When Jesus died on the cross, He proclaimed, “It is finished.” His death and resurrection laid death in its grave. Because of His love, grace, and our adoption as His children, we are given the ultimate gift of eternal life with Him forever. His triumph is our victory too. These truths are fundamental and foundational to our faith, but often, we find ourselves missing out on the victory in the struggle and mundaneness of our ordinary days.

Daily circumstances lead us to wonder things like, How do live with exceptional joy when we face such difficult circumstances? How do we practically live out God’s love and share it with others when our hearts are breaking, our country is shaking, and when we’ve lost jobs or health or hope? How do we look beyond today to live with a perspective of eternity and take heart right where we are?

We look to Jesus. We keep our eyes locked on Him. We remember what He has already done and what He will yet do!

Putting on love over all means remembering that Jesus has not only overcome death but He also daily fights our battles with us. In the middle of the hurt, He invites us to take heart, come near to Him, and hold tight to His promises. He invites us to be messengers of His love and victory just by showing up and loving others.

What are you overcoming in love?

For the Forgotten, Unwanted, Abandoned and Alone

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I know the feeling of walking into a room and your presence going unnoticed. After months of COVID-19, I know what it’s like to be completely forgotten. I know what it’s like to have friends walk away, siblings drift apart, and job promotions pass you by. I’ve been trapped in the torturous cycle of beauty comparison and house envy. So often, I feel like I am on the outside. No matter what I do or how much I try, I cannot seem to find my place. I cannot drop the weight, finish the task, or make people happy. I know the feeling of pressing my face on a glass wall, always looking in but never good enough to enter.

For all of us outsiders, the call is to lean in close and to know how God sees us. We have to remember the desperate lengths God went to in order to make the broken incredibly beautiful. When we lose sight of how God really sees us, we actually cannot see at all. We need our eyes refocused and adjusted to see the truth. It is so easy to become self-focused and turn inwards. Yet God wants to take our backs bent crippling over and stretch us up outward and open to Him. So for today, if you are feeling self-critical or discouraged, ugly, or unwanted, let us remember how God pursued those who felt just like us.

Arched over the entire Bible, God writes a love story for the one on the outside. Hagar was a servant, cast out and alone. God found her, pursued her, and rescued her. Leah, her name meaning “weary,” was the ugly sister and married to a man who did not love her back. Yet God saw her deepest heart’s desire and blessed her with an abundance of children.

The Lord saw Hannah, sobbing and heartsick for a baby. He heard her and answered. Esther, an orphan, became a queen and saved a nation. Mary, the mother of Jesus, was not even given a proper place to birth a baby, but God provided constant provision for her. The woman at the well, covered in shame, sought refreshment and reprieve. When she came face to face with Jesus, He told her everything she had ever done, and she became free. Martha was anxious and concerned with work, and Jesus invited her to rest.

Over and over again, God moves towards the forgotten, lonely, and unwanted. Over and over again, He sees the hearts of the beaten up, battered, and afraid. He goes out of His way to meet them in their fear and desperation. God is for the outsider, and we can find ourselves in each story of God’s rescue.

How many of us are abandoned, broken, and put out? How many of us huddle at our own shame wells and hope no one sees our sins? How often do we beg God to turn what is infertile to new life?

God is after us, friends. In our places of greatest despair, He chases us down. In our quiet longings and greatest defeats, He moves toward us. If you are feeling discouraged today, look upwards and backwards. Look at all the women in the Bible who have walked the path before you. Lean in close to Christ leaning in toward you. Perhaps your point of pain is the intersection He is waiting at to bring you into His deep, unending love for you.

The Stories Hiding Under the Surface 

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There’s a story I tell often. I can tell it in a self-deprecating manner that makes people laugh. But the story under the surface — the one that represents my hidden pain — is so much harder to tell. 

Once, I decided I wanted a kitten. For months, I researched how to be a good cat owner. I threw myself into this idea. I called kitten foster moms, I read online forums, I researched the best litter boxes, I asked my cat-owning friends for advice. I believed I could do this, and I believed I could be good at it. 

The only problem was: I’d forgotten I don’t like cats. 

Instead of buying one kitten, I bought two. (Go big or go home, right?) I’d read on some cat blog that kittens are better in pairs because they take care of each other. Terrible advice.

At eight-weeks-old, they resembled fluffy, hyper balls of fur. I drove them back home, took them up to my apartment, and let them free from their cage. And then, as I watched them scamper across my floor, it dawned on me with fresh horror: I don’t like cats. I actually don’t care for pets at all. And I had just bought two of them. 

My friend, Michelle, came by a few hours later to visit the kittens. She found me curled up on my apartment floor, crying. 

“Aliza,” she asked when she opened the door. “What’s wrong?” 

The kittens were jumping on my couch. My eyes were rimmed from crying. “I forgot I hate cats,” I cried to her. “And I just bought two of them! I’m going to be stuck with them for at least twenty years!” 

It was never about the cats. The cats were just a covering for the pain I was feeling. There was something much deeper happening within me.

I was in the midst of grieving my friend’s death and smack-dab in the center of my pain from a sexual assault a few years earlier. The grief over both was too much for me. I just wanted to do something that would take my mind off of it for a while. I wanted to feel tangible love — to love something and have it love me in return. 

I stared at the kittens ransacking my apartment. I realized afresh — sharply, pointedly — that nothing else was going to help me get over my pain. 

I couldn’t move past it. I had to move through it instead. The thought of that felt like my chest was splitting in half. 

We do this often. We use alcohol or scrolling Instagram or pornography or bingeing Netflix or buying cats as our way of trying to forget the stories sitting just under the surface of our hearts. But the distractions never heal us like we want them to. We don’t think we can tell these stories — they feel too vulnerable, too tender to share. We treat our symptoms with distractions instead of tenderly uprooting the cause. 

We think we can mask our pain, but the only way out is through.

I gave the kittens back the next day. When I was back and alone in my quiet apartment once again, I took a deep breath. I got down on my floor. I looked up at my ceiling, and tears poured down my face. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Jesus. The cats didn’t help me. Netflix doesn’t help me. I think I have to feel all of my pain instead. I’m terrified. I need you.”

Over time, I decided to speak my story — the real story of pain and sexual assault and grief — out loud. It took me so long to gather the courage. It started quietly, on a summer evening in a living room with a friend. Then I took it to a counselor’s office. Slowly, I dug it out from under the surface, painfully and tenderly.

We have stories we try to keep under the surface, but those stories are begging to be set free. Give them breath. Show them the light of day. Tell them to someone — just one person. You can start quiet and slow. Choose to take just one step into the light. 

The truth — slowly, carefully, and over time — will set you free. 

And every single step you take towards the truth — every single time you dig your story out from under the surface —  Jesus will be walking right beside you.

What Breaks and Remakes Us

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My family moved to Japan the summer I turned six. It’s in Tokyo where I learned how to walk busy city streets, ride a bike, squish into a packed subway, and read line maps to travel to see friends all by myself.

In the beginning, Japan’s unfamiliarity elicited fear in me, but with struggle and time, I would come to fall in love with the way she smelled and tasted — from the scent of dashi sneaking from homes and restaurants, the way cold zaru soba noodles slid down my throat on humid summer days to the unmatchable joy of opening a foil-wrapped, steaming, roasted sweet potato from the yaki-imo truck that graced our street on crisp autumn days. Though I wouldn’t have chosen her, Japan fed me through my formative years.

My parents spent hours telling me what Japan would be like before the move, and I resisted all of it with every ounce of my kindergarten wits and strength by frequently stomping my foot on the ground and giving long five-year-old speeches about how I wouldn’t move and why it was a bad idea. No matter what I said or did, they listened, but we packed up and moved anyway.

Over the last eleven years, my husband and I have witnessed all three of our kids learning to face transitions and change. As we’ve watched them barreling head-first into whatever new scenarios have come their way, we’ve held our breath and remembered the ways we resisted transition in our own lives. Fear can have a rigid, tight grip, and it’s hard to forget how it holds us down and tries to keep us.

So, last spring, when our family of five was sheltering in place for the first time, I watched how each of our kids responded to the unfamiliar. Every change and transition in those slow months of spring-turned-summer, was another blow. The initial tenderness and hope alongside the fear, anger, and grief melted and melded into a weight of pure exhaustion for all of us. It felt like none of our bodies and minds could ever catch up with the news or all of our feelings. It reminded me of the way moving to another culture starts with a honeymoon phase, then moves into a phase of hostility, slow adjustments, and eventually, adaptation. After the novelty of the honeymoon phase, the newness feels more like one punch in the face after another.

Sometimes I want my kids to move through all of those stages as quickly as I can explain them. Sometimes I still expect that of myself. I expect the information and my own experience to be enough of a guide for them and me. But it’s the experience of living through each of these stages and meeting God’s new mercies day in and day out that draws us near to God, beckons us to surrender, and has the power to transform us.

In the midst of our world facing the ongoing devastation and impact of a global pandemic, the tension of our upcoming national election, and the severe polarization of people in our nation, we’re all responding differently: our hearts hang heavy for the world, we resist our own national and personal shifts, we grasp for control or distraction, and our hostility towards one another rings loud and clear.

Nothing is the same as it was back then. Seven months later, here we are, however fractured, exhausted, angry, or adjusting, and all of us are offered new mercies each day.

Leaving Japan wasn’t the last time I left something kicking and screaming. I look back now, and see how the gaping blank space of every loss wasn’t just stretched wide for aching but also for a holy remaking.

After our move, my mom started adding her own version of Japanese curry and tongkatsu to our weekly dinner rotation. Instead of city streets, I got used to finding glittery snail trails on the driveway of our Californian rental home, visiting the little avocado tree in our backyard, and enjoying weekends at the beach.

We invited Japanese college exchange students to live in our home with us, and every time I watched them bow or slide their shoes off at the front door in exchange for our Korean house slippers, it was as if someone handed me a tiny balm of healing.

Through every stage of shock and transition, God is with us. He is the one who listens, steadies us, keeps us, shelters us, and moves us forward anyway. He is the one who offers to take all that was, every tear shed for what was lost, and all that now is, and make something new. No matter how homesick we feel or how acutely aware of how far from home we are, God gives us little homecomings to sustain us along the way.

We’ll get there — one morning of mercy at a time, even if it takes a little while.

Take Heart, He Has Overcome

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None of us are immune to the burdens and pains of this life. Though we have a God who loves us, we all experience loss, hardship, and disappointment. And in the midst of it all, it might feel as though we’re all alone, with no one to understand us, no one to guide us, no one to let us know they’ve been there too.

Sometimes, in those seasons of life that ache beyond words, we just want to hear that it’s okay to not feel okay. We want to know we’re not alone in this chasm of loneliness we stand in. We want to be held by arms that bear the scars of similar wounds.

In our most vulnerable moments, we need more than pithy statements that attempt to assure us that all will be well. Instead, we need one another’s stories. Stories create a space for us to be — to be known, to be validated in our feelings and experiences, and to give us words to express what we might not have been able to say before. We can find ourselves and God again in one another’s stories, opening the door to let hope come through once more.

We won’t be able to understand why hard things happen in this world or in our lives, and that is okay. We can sit in the tension of that reality together. And not only do our suffering and pain connect us together in our humanity, but they also connect us to Christ, who bore it all on the cross. He held the tension between heaven’s holiness and the world’s brokenness, and though we all long for resurrection, we have a God who stayed in the tomb—in darkness, in death, in time suspended — before He rose again on the third day.

And these are His words to us:

In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
John 16:33 (NIV)

From the introduction of  Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay by the (in)courage community

We hope each story in this book is an offering of hope to know that we’re in this together.

Get 5 devotions from Take Heart for FREE!

Learning to Soar Instead of Flapping Our Wings

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For the last several weeks, our air has been smoky in Central California because of the fires chasing up and down our state. We have been forced to stay inside for many days, which was a little harder to swallow after five months of sheltering at home due to the global pandemic.

My husband Shawn and I decided to take our three daughters and my parents on a weekend trip to the Central Coast to get out of the murky air. On that Saturday morning, Shawn and I drove to Montaña de Oro State Park for a trail run. I craved fresh air and some space to breathe before the new school year began with all my girls learning at home.

Some friends recommended this amazing trail that overlooked the ocean. I am all about chasing God’s glory along ocean vistas. We made our way to the trailhead and started our run.

Montaña de Oro State Park boasts golden wildflowers in spring, secluded sandy beaches, streams, canyons, coastal plains dotted with succulents, and hills upon hills. As the trail wove through the park like a thread through a tapestry, we found ourselves peering over the edge of rugged cliffs. A symphony of waves crashed beneath us.

I felt the storm in my soul begin to calm as my heart tuned in to the cadence of the ocean waves. I was reminded of my Daddy God who holds all the details, all the decision fatigue, and all the problems of this year in the palm of His hands.

Then I began to notice this bird flying overhead. As I ran, he flew just ahead of me. He was so close I could make out the curve of his expansive wings. I’m not a birder, but I’m pretty sure it was a hawk or eagle. I could tell by the way he would flap his wings only once or twice and then soar on the wind.

The prophet Isaiah says, “But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint” (Isaiah 40:31).

These words remind us that we are called to place our hope in the Lord. We cannot trust in our own sense of control over situations. So much in this season is out of our hands, and we have to look to God when we feel weary and broken.

Different translations and versions of the Bible use different words in place of that word “trust,” which help us get a fuller picture of what the prophet Isaiah was saying. We are called to “wait” for the Lord (ESV), to “trust” in Him (NLT), and “wait upon” Him for our next move (MSG). When we trust and wait for God, He leads us in surprising ways to fly like eagles.

Eagles are beautiful, majestic birds created by God to soar. They have long, large wings. Their bodies are very light with bones that are hollow. Their skeletons weigh about half a pound, but their wings are very strong.

When eagles fly, they flap their wings for only a short time to gain altitude. Then they stretch their wings horizontally and use wind thermals to soar or glide through the air, conserving energy.

A wind thermal is a big gust of wind that rises up from the atmosphere. Eagles wait and perch (sometimes for days) before they catch a good, strong wind thermal to carry them to where they want to go. Like the eagle, we also must wait with hope, listening for the Holy Spirit to whisper, nudge, or direct us where to run next.

While we wait, Isaiah 40 says God “renews our strength.” An eagle molts, which is the natural way God renews and replenishes its wings. The old feathers fall out and new ones grow in to take their place. Similarly, God can give us a dose of renewed strength, power, and ability while we are waiting for Him.

Whether you are waiting for an answer, waiting for healing, waiting for a child, waiting for a job promotion, or just waiting for this pandemic to be over, know that your waiting has purpose.

Waiting does not mean wallowing or sitting idle. In the waiting, God can give us fresh strength so we can soar when the time is right.

We can’t simply rely on our own strength because it is too often misguided and will eventually run out. Like the eagle, we need to conserve energy and look with anticipation for that just-right wind the Holy Spirit provides.

We need to stop striving and start soaring.

This post was adapted from the Introduction to Walk Run Soar.

 

Walk, Run, Soar is a 52-week devotional and training journal designed for runners (and walkers!) who hope to experience God’s presence, purpose, and glory in a deeper way as they run. Dorina Gilmore Young, and her triathlete husband, Shawn, will get you moving with a new motivation: improving your spiritual health. Along with weekly devotions to inspire you, Walk, Run, Soar includes:

· practical running/training tips
· training schedules from a running and triathlon coach
· advice on how to fuel your body well
· reflection questions and action steps
· space to journal and record your running progress

Whether you are new to running or a longtime runner, Walk, Run, Soar will motivate you to hit your fitness goals while strengthening your faith.

And to celebrate its release, we’ll be choosing FIVE winners to receive a copy! Tell us whom you’d like to gift the book to (whether it’s for someone else or for you) in the comments below!

Giveaway closes October 2 at 11:59pm CST. Open to US addresses only. 

When You Feel Guilty For Blessings

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I used to struggle with guilt — guilt for sinful behavior, things I thought I could have done better, but most of all, guilt for experiencing blessings from God that I didn’t see others enjoying. I felt guilty for answered prayers and for better circumstances than my friends seemed to be experiencing.

I know that “there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus,” but for some reason, it was easier to feel forgiven for my sins than for me not to feel guilty about being blessed by God’s hand of mercy and love.

Has the enemy tried to make you feel bad for the good things in your life? Do you feel guilty for having prayers answered? Are you being shamed for God’s goodness displayed in your life?

I remember being in small groups at church and dreading the time when it was time for me to share my testimony. I didn’t feel like Jesus had saved me from enough. I felt bad for how easy my life had been compared to others in the group. I allowed guilt to make me feel the need to apologize for things I didn’t have to endure or weren’t part of my story.

I allowed guilt to silence my praises to the One who had protected, provided, sacrificed, and loved me. I allowed comparison to lessen what God had done in my life — healing a disease, breaking my perfectionist spirit, changing my headstrong ways, redirecting my career path, being content in singleness, providing a loving spouse, creating in me a new heart to love a child, and overcoming infertility.

Guilt can be hard to get rid of. Its best friend is shame and that always leaves us silenced to ask for help or to praise Jesus.

It had become easier for me to try to praise God in my perseverance through hard situations than to praise Him when the prayers were answered, when the long-awaited gift finally came, when He revealed more of His tangible goodness in my life.

The Holy Spirit revealed to me that blessings should only create a thankful heart and praises to our King — not comparison, guilt, or shame. Those three things have been nailed to the cross with our sin.

The way God blesses me can give hope to another that God can bless them and answer their prayers too. 

Whatever is good and perfect is a gift coming down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. He never changes or casts a shifting shadow.
James 1:17 (NLT)

Like the sunlight of today, God pours down His good gifts on us. This is part of His character. He never changes, and God does not cast a shadow on our situations. His good gifts should make us respond with praises to Him in the glow of His light in our lives.

I can be a living example to others of how God keeps His word and comes through on His promises. I can reveal Him to others by the hope of His goodness in my life. I pass on the blessings He has given me with those that need hope in love.

You don’t need to be embarrassed or feel guilt for God’s blessings. We can celebrate God’s mercy, love, and answered prayers, reminding us of our role as child of the King and simultaneously giving hope to others waiting on their own blessing.

You are blessed because of Jesus’ saving grace. You don’t have to apologize for God’s power and provision in your life. It’s your privilege to respond in love to God and others. 

Let’s not cower away from sharing what God has done in our midst and on our behalf because we are worried about someone else’s jealousy. Share with thanksgiving the kindness of God. In that, there is real, tangible hope for another. Enjoy the blessings He has bestowed on you and be thankful, not guilty. 

Consider Others as More Important Than Yourselves

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If, then, there is any encouragement in Christ, if any consolation of love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any affection and mercy, make my joy complete by thinking the same way, having the same love, united in spirit, intent on one purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves. Everyone should look not to his own interests, but rather to the interests of others.
Philippians 2:1-4 (CSB)

Whether we’d like to admit or not, the well-known phrase, “Every man for himself,” is often how we choose to live. It’s a natural survival instinct to want to preserve ourselves, our resources, and our loves ones when we face fear and scarcity. But we can only clutch onto what is ours for so long. Eventually, we realize how much we need each other and how important it is that we learn to depend and trust one another. If each of us consider the interests of others above our own, it creates a beautiful cycle where we become united in the Spirit by the love of Christ. This is the picture of the church we see in Acts 2:44-47:

All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. 

May we be like Jesus in how we consider others today. 

It’s Always the Right Time to Do the Right Thing

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When I was young and needed some direction about where to start reading in the Bible – especially when I wasn’t taking part in a guided or group study – a friend suggested opening Proverbs and choosing the one that corresponded to whatever day it happened to be in the month. Since there are thirty-one proverbs and thirty to thirty-one days in most months, they pair up nicely.

Perhaps due to its simplicity, this practice has remained a mainstay of mine throughout the years. When I need to hear the wisdom of God, or on occasion when I’m looking for writing inspiration, or on those days when time is scarce, Proverbs is where I begin.

As I prayed for the Holy Spirit to lead me in writing this post, I sensed a nudge to share my simple Bible-reading practice. But then I realized what day of the month it was — the thirty-first. Ugh. Writing about the “Proverbs 31 woman” felt tone deaf in light of our world right now. And even though I absolutely believe “all Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching” (2 Timothy 3:16-17 ESV), it wasn’t a passage I would have purposefully chosen.

Despite my feelings and out of regard for this practice of mine, I flipped to the familiar proverb. Immediately, I was reminded that God is so good and He knows me well. I had forgotten how Proverbs 31 starts. The nine verses preceding the characterization of a “wife of noble character” had escaped my recall.

To refresh your memory, Proverbs 31 is attributed to King Lemuel (though there’s speculation it could’ve been King Solomon), and those first nine verses are strong advice offered by his mama about wine and women and doing the right thing. When I got to verses eight and nine, I was blown away, understanding immediately why the Spirit might’ve led me to share my reading practice today:

Speak up for those who have no voice,
for the justice of all who are dispossessed.
Speak up, judge righteously, and defend the cause
of the oppressed and needy.
Proverbs 31:8-9 (CSB)

Isn’t it always astonishing to read ancient words that speak so specifically to our world right now? I never want to lose the wonder of God’s word or its relevancy regardless of time, place, or circumstance.

We have influence among the people in our lives. You have influence among the people in your life. Are you stewarding this gift well? Are you influencing others with intention?

Ultimately and consistently, I want my life to point others to Jesus. Though I’ve admitted how I wrestled with Him and inadvertently tried to rob Him of His glory, I’ve always considered it an honor for my words to be read. Using my voice for those who may not have a platform is precisely why I love advocating for Compassion International and one of the reasons I love writing for the (in)courage community. Indeed, ours is a hope-filled and encouraging family where we get to love each other with our words and actions. I deeply value your time and appreciate every comment, email, and social share (When y’all encourage each other in a comment thread? My favorite!).

And with the influence I have here, I want to encourage us to heed Proverbs 31:8-9. As racial tensions continue to occupy our headlines, we must “speak up, judge righteously, and defend the cause of the oppressed and needy.” Because we are loved by God, we’re empowered to love others. And loving others demonstrates our love for God because it’s obedience to the greatest command: to love God and others (Matthew 22:36-39).

When we make space for others to speak and when we use our own voices to stand against injustice, we become part of the reconciling work Christ began. Let’s soak in the wisdom from Proverbs 31:8-9 and become women of courage and justice.

Did you see the two video conversations recently hosted by (in)courage? Part One shares stories from women of color at (in)courage about painful experiences with racism, and Part Two explains how we can all engage in anti-racism work through open conversations with the people in our lives. I hope you get to watch the videos so you can be encouraged and equipped to share your own story about race and listen well to others.

How are you or others around you living out Proverbs 31:8-9?