Finding Hope When the World Feels Heavy

Finding Hope When the World Feels Heavy

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Sometimes, it feels like evil wins. We labor in faith, striving to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God, but we do not always see the fruit. I’d be lying if I said there haven’t been moments when the world feels heavy on my shoulders, and my heart can barely take the pain pressing in from every side as I wonder where God is in the mess of it all.

Throughout Scripture, God calls us to care for the suffering, the downcast, the poor. We’re called to speak up for the marginalized and care for the hurting.

A group of women from across the country invited me to their group to lead an online prayer session. They were faithful advocates, working to create change for some of the most vulnerable in our communities. They believed in bipartisan solutions and had tirelessly pursued conversations to bring hope and practical action. But before our scheduled time of prayer, they experienced significant setbacks. What had looked like promising conversations quickly turned into closed doors. The effort had been met with resistance, and they were left discouraged, questioning whether their work mattered, wondering what would happen to those who would remain hurting and unhelped.

I was discouraged, too, carrying my own doubts and frustrations. But I showed up anyway.

Some of us wiped away silent tears, and others sat with our hands folded tightly in our laps. We had come together to pray, listen, and lament — but honestly, I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to pray. I didn’t want to sit in silence, waiting for God to show up.

God felt distant.

And I felt alone.

Looking back, I can see that prayer was exactly what we needed. On that digital call, something began to shift as we slowly turned to spiritual practices. We practiced Lectio Divina, a way of reading Scripture prayerfully, allowing the words to speak into our weary hearts. We engaged in the Examen, reflecting on where we had seen God at work, even in our discouragement. We wrote small liturgies — simple prayers to name our sorrows before God. Little by little, the tightness in my chest eased. 

Our time together did not change circumstances, but by the grace of God — the Loving Parent who holds us even when we struggle to hold on — it changed me.

As I look around, it’s easy to feel like sorrow and struggle are unique to our times. But after spending time in the Psalms, I’m reminded that humanity’s ache is nothing new. This push-pull of who we are and who we could be has always been history — but the mercy of God has always been our hope, too.

Lament is part of walking with God. The psalmists cried out. Jesus Himself wept. When we let ourselves feel the pain of our weary world and the ache in our hearts, we step into sacred sorrow, something Jesus knew intimately. 

Just because we cannot always see the tree growing and bearing fruit does not mean the work we did to plant the seeds was in vain.

So much of our modern lives are focused on avoidance. We scroll, we busy ourselves, we try to distract ourselves from the ache — anything to keep us from feeling too deeply. But the way of Jesus is not avoidance. It is incarnation — presence, embodiment, and action.

As we read in James, faith without works is dead. But the inverse is also true: action without God will falter. On my own, my work will flounder. It will taper off in the face of adversity. It will burn out in exhaustion or despair. If left to me, I will give up.

Only the Spirit of the Living God keeps me going.

I wrestle with the silent doubts I don’t want to name. The ones that creep in during the waiting. The ones that whisper: What if this is all for nothing? What if I misheard God?

I find comfort in knowing that God is not afraid of my doubts, my silence, or my noise. God absorbs my screams as readily as my refusal to pray at all. There are moments when I do not want to invite God into my pain. I want to wallow, to rage, to sit in the dust and despair. I want to let my hot takes and anger fester. I don’t want to enter into prayer.

But in the presence of those women, as we sought hope together, I was reminded that though darkness lingers and injustice remains, hate does not have the final say. Communal prayer invites us into active participation in our world, propelled by the nourishing comfort and righteous power of the One who gives us breath.

By the power of the Spirit, we can take the next step. We can listen for the still, small voice of God. We can draw near to those who suffer, grieve with the grieving, speak truth in power, and embody love in action.

If you find yourself in a place of lament today, know this: You don’t have to do it alone. And you don’t have to hide your pain, frustration, anger, or discouragement from God. You do not have to pray beautifully scripted prayers, and you do not have to have all the answers.

You are held.

You are not alone.

May this simple prayer carry you:

God of Gentleness, You care for me.

 

Listen to Kayla’s devotion here or on your fave podcast app!

When the Answer to Prayer Doesn’t Last

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“This feels like such an answer to prayer.”

A friend congratulated me on a job I felt ready for at a company I believed in. The last year was full of lots of uncertainty and budget cuts and the role I was leaving had been shaky at best. This new work would be with a familiar organization whose vision and mission I aligned with. I had friends there and when I announced I’d be joining the team, I got texts and well-wishes and messages of welcome. It felt like I was in the right place at the right time.

And then, a few months later, I was told that while I was a hard worker and talented in many ways, it wasn’t the right fit. They were kind, but in the end, we went our separate ways.

I thought this was an answer to prayer?

And shouldn’t that kind of thing last longer than four months? Shouldn’t I have been able to settle in like coming home? I felt a sense of discouragement, shame, and disbelief. Did I read the situation wrong? Was exhaling a sigh of relief misplaced? Was there some red flag I’d ignored?

It’s hard to be 35, experienced, and searching for a job all over again — especially after eyeing the door of a job for so long and then thinking you were walking through the right one.

Sometimes, when a play takes a sudden turn or a dream dies or a relationship ends, we decide that our time was wasted. And believe me, I’ve told myself over and over that very thing. If I’d just landed in the right place to begin with, I’d be so much better off! If I’d just made the right call or said the right thing or taken the right route, I wouldn’t be in pain now.

One night, as I processed this news, I whispered to a friend, “Well, at least it was four months of provision.”

As the words came out of my mouth, I wondered if perhaps they were an invitation to shift my perspective. Instead of seeing these months as wasted, perhaps there were gifts that were buried deep under the confusion. Perhaps this moment was one to lean into my heartache and ask different questions.

Instead of, “What was the point of that?” I can ask, “Lord, what are you making new in me as a result of this?”

If we’re promised in Scripture that God uses all things for the good of those who love Him, that means that while some things aren’t inherently good, they are being used for good.

Here are some of the invaluable lessons God taught me through this job, even as it was taken away:

1. Make your workspace your own and care for it well. If you’re spending 8 hours at a desk, it should be beautiful.

2. The most confident people are dealing with a whole lot of doubt and insecurity — you should check in on them.

3. When a colleague is overwhelmed, ask if you can take something off their plate.

4. Get up and take a walk between tasks, even just for a minute or two. Your brain will thank you.

5. Sometimes, work days are long and plans change. Don’t overthink it.

6. Sometimes, work days are smooth sailing. Don’t overthink it.

7. Before opening your computer or beginning your shift, ask God for patience, focus, and opportunities to see others.

8. Be generous. Collaborate more than you compete with others.

9. You will not regret going the extra mile to make someone laugh.

10. Disappointments and closed doors are opportunities to surrender to Jesus all over again and walk alongside Him closer as I take the next shaky steps toward what’s next.

I wonder what would happen if we focused less on what we’re missing and more on what we’re gaining or how we’re growing. Not to cover up the pain — I’m still super embarrassed every time someone says, “How’s the new job?” — but to remember that God moves in every season and every moment. To remember that who I am now is not who I was four months ago. And to remember that God is staying the same.

Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever. In a world that seems to shift every other hour, sometimes minute by minute, it’s good to pause and look up. To always see Him sitting there, making eye contact, not in a hurry.

If you’re in a place of unexpected loss, I want you to know this, sister: you’ve still got so much to gain in patience and hope and compassion. You will become someone new each day in small ways, and your community will be richer as a result.

Take time to write a note.
Take time to say a prayer.
Take time to crack a joke.

Live fully into whatever this season brings because it might just be the season that you need.

 

Listen to Melissa’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts.

How Can We Pray for You Today?

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“Be assured that from the first day we heard of you, we haven’t stopped praying for you, asking God to give you wise minds and spirits attuned to his will, and so acquire a thorough understanding of the ways in which God works.

We pray that you’ll live well for the Master, making him proud of you as you work hard in his orchard. As you learn more and more how God works, you will learn how to do your work.

We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us.”
Colossians 1:9-12 The Message

One of our greatest joys at (in)courage is joining together as sisters in Christ through the power of prayer. Today, we’re wrapping you in the beautiful truth of Colossians 1:9-12. This passage reminds us of the incredible richness of God’s wisdom, strength, and joy available to us. Take a moment to read it slowly, savoring the abundant goodness and promises it holds.

We would be honored to pray for you personally. What’s on your heart today? In what area of your life are you longing to reflect Jesus more? Where do you need His strength, patience, or joy to carry you through?

Please share your request in the comments. And as you do, take a moment to bless another sister by praying for the person who commented before you.

Let’s create a ripple of encouragement and faith as we lift each other up in prayer. Together, we can stand strong, filled with His glorious power and overflowing with thankfulness.

 

This Is a Reminder That God Goes Before You

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The phone screen lit up. I got a notification.

My flight for tomorrow was rescheduled because of the snowstorm. The message that followed contained the new flight itinerary. After looking at the flight details, my heart began pounding. The travel disruption could lead to a missed medical appointment, and I waited for this appointment for a long time.

For the past few years, I have been struggling with severe spinal stenosis, a narrowing of the spine that causes pressure on the spinal cord. My life has changed drastically. My back starts to hurt after my body stays in the same position for a long time. I cannot do most of the activities I once enjoyed, including hiking, walking, and working out.

I tried to print out my boarding pass several times at the airport the following day. After a few failed attempts, I asked for help at the check-in counter.

“If you want to leave early, I can get you on another flight. We had a last-minute cancellation,” the airline representative said, looking at the monitor. 

“That would be wonderful,” I replied.  

It felt like God had gone before me, because getting on that flight meant I would arrive with enough time to rest before my medical appointment. I didn’t go looking to ask the airline representative to put me on another flight. I was just trying to resolve the problem with the boarding pass not printing.

After finishing check-in, the representative informed me that the wheelchair was on the way. Someone on staff at the airport brought me to the gate. Though the flight departed on time, I had no idea that my travel plans were about to change . . . again.

After landing at the stopover airport, I discovered that all the flights heading in the direction I needed to go were canceled because of another snowstorm. I couldn’t leave until the following day, and this left me feeling disheartened. Once again, the possibility of missing my medical appointment became a reality. After four canceled flights, I was exhausted. My pain became worse, and I felt overwhelmed.

The next morning, I was at the airport checking in for my flight. While the flight wasn’t delayed, there was still a possibility of not arriving on time because of the potential snowstorm. Yet, after the takeoff, a strong relief came over me. The view from an airplane window was breathtaking and just what I needed in the midst of uncertainty, because seeing God’s glory through the airplane window reminded me of His faithfulness.

Even though my flight arrived later than expected, I was still on time and didn’t miss my medical appointment. It felt like God went before me and surprised me with a miracle when I least expected it. Once again, I was reminded that the same God who created the universe is the same God who goes before His people. Furthermore, God didn’t just promise to go before His people; He also promised to be with them.    

While holding onto the truth that the Lord goes before us, we need not be scared and disheartened. For, God goes before us no matter where we are, how we are feeling, or what we are facing. He knows which way we are going and what lies ahead of us. God fights on our behalf, and He knows the outcome of our story before we do. Whatever surprises we encounter aren’t surprises for the Lord.

No matter what circumstances we are in, may we always remember this: God is always the same. He is not a distant observer; and He will never leave nor forsake us.

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
Deuteronomy 31:8 NIV 

Looking for the Ten-Second Miracles

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A couple years ago, my husband and I ran into one of our favorite coffee shops for a caffeine fix. I expected to leave with a vanilla latte in hand. I did not expect to be reminded that God does miracles in His time, in His space.

I really did not expect to find this reminder on a package of coffee. And I especially did not expect this illustration to come from a play in a football game.

See, while we were waiting at the counter for our drinks to be made, I spied a package of “Skol Vikings Blend” coffee near the counter.

We live in Minnesota, where the Vikings are our hometown football team, and that coffee shop chain had created a special blend in their honor. We are a football family. We watch games every week without fail, because my son absolutely loves the game – loves it – and the Vikings are his team. He used his own money to join the Vikings Kids Club, roots for his beloved Vikes no matter what the scoreboard says, dresses in jerseys and eyeblack whenever possible, and plans to be a Viking when he grows up. He’s brought his sisters into loving the game and has big plans for teaching his little brother how to play when he’s a little bigger.

My boy has turned me into a fan too — especially of the family time watching the game brings. All that in mind as I stood at the coffee shop counter, I thought it would be fun to bring home some “football coffee,” so we bought the bag of beans along with our lattes and headed back to the car to complete our errands.

Then right there in the passenger seat of our minivan, I teared up as I read the description on the side of the package:

Just like a good cup of coffee, the Vikings have a special way of bringing us Minnesotans together. As we cheer on the team to rock ’em, sock ’em, and fight fight fight each week, we learn that when us Northerners come together as one, there’s not much we can’t accomplish. And that ten seconds is plenty of time for a miracle.

That last sentence, right on the back of the bag of coffee beans, stopped me right in my tracks.

In 2017, during a game — the final ten seconds of the game, to be exact — Minnesota Vikings player Stefon Diggs caught a twenty-seven-yard pass and ran it to the end zone for a touchdown as the clock ran out. The announcer went absolutely wild (as did the stadium), and he excitedly hollered that it was “a Minneapolis miracle.” The title and clip of the play went viral — you can see the “miraculous” play here. I vividly remember this game, mostly because my husband whooped so loud that our football-loving son got out of bed and came downstairs, and then we let him stay up and watch the replay.

Ten seconds is all it took for this play to make record books, to get millions of hits on the internet, to be called a miracle, to change history for a few folks.

And isn’t that so reminiscent of the true miracles of God?

How long did it take for Jesus to do His miraculous form of multiplication with a few loaves and some fish? How about when He swapped water for wine? With crowds gathered in both of those locations, hungry and thirsty, I can’t imagine that Jesus took a long time to make these miracles happen. People were waiting.

Sometimes God keeps us waiting. Other times, all He needs is ten seconds.

Okay, so I’m not actually comparing the “Minneapolis miracle” to those listed in Scripture, but it did remind me to take pause and remember how many times the miracles in life have taken very little time — when the car stops just in time to avoid being hit by an oncoming car, when I catch my toddlers’ hand just before the van door closes on it, when the diagnosis comes in and they say it was caught in the nick of time, when the phone call is made minutes before the decision comes through and the conversation changes the final decision. You know what I mean? How many times have we cut it too close for comfort and whispered, “Oh, thank you God!”?

And that’s just the protection kind of miracle.

When I raise my eyes from this computer, I see my four children who are absolutely miraculous in their own right, especially considering the years of infertility and miscarriages that came before and alongside them. All people, really, are total miracles. So very many things have to happen correctly in order to fully develop a human being, with all neurons firing, bodies forming, hearts beating. Each person is a miracle, right there in plain sight.

And then to look outside my window and see the blue sky, the frosted trees, the wonder of snowflakes — each one entirely unique. To hear music pouring from my speakers, artists gifted with both word and voice. To enjoy the transformation coffee goes through as the beans are ground and hot water is poured through. To watch the way ingredients come together, changing from eggs and flour and butter into warm cookies (anyone else think of that scene/quote from Friends? “Ten minutes ago this was all just ingredients!”) To hold a loved one’s hand.

There are more miracles in plain sight, beckoning to be seen.

So today, I raise my mug to you. Here’s to the ten-second miracles all around us. May we see them for ourselves. May we be them for one another.

Originally published on February 11, 2022.

 

Listen to today’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts!

From Overwhelmed to Free: Embrace the Gift of Simplifying

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“Mom, I love you, but this is why I am a minimalist.”

I opened the upstairs closet in a last-ditch effort to find my missing box. Objects tumbled out. I’d stacked and shoved. Shoved and stacked. With raised eyebrows, my daughter looked at me and chuckled. She had a point.

During various seasons, physical clutter has claimed too much territory in my life. One junk drawer crept into two. Organized pantry shelves now overtook space on the floor. And while I’ve created a cozy, welcoming environment for guests downstairs, my hidden spaces hold baggage I’ve held onto for far too long.

Time after time, I’ve declared “THIS WILL BE THE YEAR!! There’s a time to keep and a time to throw away.” I’ve celebrated significant progress and then allowed discouragement to derail me when the year ended as cluttered as it began. And while I’ve made intentional choices to simplify my life in many areas, my extra “stuff” carries a heavy physical and mental load.

The irony is that I have the knowledge to write a compelling book on home organization; I understand the systems necessary to declutter my life — but nothing changed until it was forced to.

In 2023, my husband and I celebrated thirty years of marriage. Our kids marked this covenant day with precious words and an announcement. “Since you’ve waited decades to replace your old upstairs carpeting, we’ll split the cost of the new flooring.”

What a kind, thoughtful gesture. They sensed a need, but couldn’t fathom the amount of work necessary for me to receive this gift. (Just pretend you’re packing to move without the benefit of a new house.)

For months, I couldn’t prioritize this overwhelming task. My friend Barbara reminded me that “Clutter is postponed decisions.” That’ll preach because I procrastinated until I received this text: “Mom, we budgeted for flooring last year. If you’re not going to use it, you’ll lose it.”

Our kids know me so well. The frugal saver in me created this mess, but she’s also the same saver who won’t pass on a free gift.

To move forward required brutal honesty. Not just with myself, but a heart evaluation before the Lord. So I prayed, “Search me, O God and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts” (Psalm 139: 23 NIV).

And He did.

While I desired to halt the habits that were sabotaging my progress, I hadn’t been willing to do the hard work necessary to clear out the cluttered spaces in my heart and home.

It’s an often painful process to allow the Holy Spirit’s gentle care to convict our soul, isn’t it? The intimate nearness He offers and the freedom of wholeness are available right now, but it involves a submission to the transformative process of renewing our mind. I had run from discipline too often. If I wanted to experience newfound peace, I needed to acknowledge the work involved.

“No discipline is pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”
Hebrews 12:11 NIV

If you’re a “Place for everything, Everything in its place” kind of girl, you may not understand the struggle of stuffed spaces. But when we reframe “clutter” as anything that gets in the way of living fully alive for God’s glory, then we realize we’ve all experienced the impact of clutter. Doesn’t wisdom suggest that if something isn’t drawing us closer to God’s goodness or His calling for us, we should let it go?

That’s my struggle. We can hold on to anything we want, but we must be willing to pay the price — in space, time, energy, and money. Because no matter how much we shove, shift, and hide our clutter, the cost takes its toll.

What might decluttering look like for you in 2025?

Could it be emotional or digital clutter that prevents peace within your home?
Financial clutter where debt hinders generosity?
Relational clutter created by a frazzled “to-do” list that limits your margin for others?
Or maybe spiritual clutter where bitterness, idolatry, or pride create barriers to a right relationship with the Lord?

It’s been a year since that “use it or lose it” text from our kids. My brother and I ended up installing the floors ourselves. Part of being honest meant acknowledging that I didn’t get here overnight and I wouldn’t get out from under it overnight either. (Plus I needed tough love to make progress.)

In the decision-making process, I’ve started asking, “Does this help me accomplish my work, enjoy my life, encourage others, or draw me closer to the Lord?” If not, it’s clutter. Full disclosure, I invited my minimalist daughter to speak the truth and hold me accountable. (I’ll let you know how that goes.)

Clearing the clutter of our hearts and homes is a journey and not a one-time destination, but a continual journey. While I witness the fruit of discipline that comes in the day-to-day as I choose to lay my preferences aside, it’s not only hard work, it’s transformative.

It allows room for my soul to breathe and I’m so proud of myself. I’m amazed at the peace it brings.

Do you desire that too? To declutter your heart and soul?

What’s one thing that you need to let go of that no longer serves you or Him well?

Join me in the comments as we reflect and imagine how our lives would feel if we decluttered that one aspect.

 

Listen to Jen’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts.

When January Feels Like Groundhog Day

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My youngest daughter has recently been watching a TV show where two of the characters have visions of the future. It never fails, though, that their visions only show part of the picture and their interpretation of what’s happening (and what they should do to prevent it) is wrong. Every time! While discussing the show, my daughter said, “I still like it, but it’s kind of the same thing over and over. You’d think they would figure out that they always get it wrong!”

I laughed and agreed with her about the premise of the show. But then I paused and said, “Isn’t that kind of how we all are, though? Making the same mistakes over and over again?”

We’re just past the beginning of another year, another stretch of days debating the concept of “New Year, New Me,” another opportunity to look back and evaluate, and look forward and plan. In other words, it’s January.

And nothing sends me spiraling into self-doubt disguised as reflection like January.

I woke up on January 1, 2025, the same person I was on January 1, 2024 — and every year before that. And I do love that person (or at least I’m trying to), but I sure thought she’d have figured some more things out by now. Sure, I’ve grown and learned and changed in some ways throughout my life, but the things that I struggle with never seem to leave me entirely.

I don’t have visions of the future like those TV characters, but I seem to get the same things wrong year after year.

Have you ever felt that way? Have you reached a milestone or significant date and felt panic begin to creep in at the thought of everything you haven’t started or stopped or accomplished or experienced? Have you ever found yourself wondering if you’ll ever reach that goal, ever learn, ever move past that thing, ever get it right?

I feel that too, deeply—but I’m going to stop us both right there. Because, friend, we cannot start another year or season or week at the bottom of that pit! These feelings of discouragement are understandable when we struggle to see growth or progress — but, much as I’m tempted to wrap myself up in self-criticism and self-doubt and convince myself I might as well give up, that’s not who I want to be or how I believe God wants me to live. And the same goes for you.

So, how do we climb out of this broken resolution-shaped hole?

Let’s start by remembering that we’re human, a condition God is fully aware of and not offended by. And then we’re going to turn to God’s Word. One of the most human, most relatable passages in the Bible is found in Romans, where Paul confesses that he also cannot get it right:

“I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway.”
Romans 7:15, 19 NLT

Same, Paul, same.

But here’s the thing we can’t miss: Just a few verses later in Romans 8:1, Paul says there is no condemnation for those of us who belong to God. And later in that chapter, as he reassures the reader of the absolute and all-encompassing power and strength of God’s love, he says (in Romans 8:33-34, paraphrase mine):

Who dares accuse us? No one.
Who then will condemn us? No one.

No one! No one has the right to accuse a child of God. No one has the authority to condemn us for the sin God promises to wash clean. No one can convince God to give up on us or judge us or leave us to our own devices. No one.

And while we can find verses in other parts of the New Testament where Paul shares his successes and all the ways Jesus has transformed him, these verses in Romans 8 come right after he admitted that he struggles to do the right thing. This context matters! Romans 8:1 begins with “therefore,” connecting Paul’s lamentations of his sinful nature directly to God’s pure love and forgiveness for all the ways we continue to be so very human.

Our transformation into the person God created us to be may be slow. We may relapse into old habits or lack the strength to start new, healthy ones. Some years may contain so much chaos or difficulty that the best we can do is survive.

And absolutely none of that will keep God from loving us just as we are.

God’s love isn’t hinged on our ability to get everything right. Our struggles might feel like reruns, but His grace is relentless.

So let’s be kind to ourselves, just as Colossians 3:12-13 urges us to be, clothing ourselves with tenderhearted mercy and patience — even toward our own hearts. When we stumble, instead of harsh criticism, let’s extend the same compassion we’d offer a dear friend. God’s mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23), and that includes mercy for ourselves. (Mic drop because I seriously need all the mercy I can get. Same?)

So, take a breath, friend. This year isn’t about fixing everything; it’s about trusting God with each step, leaning into His love, and allowing His grace to transform us—slowly, steadily, beautifully.

Let’s approach this day and the rest of the year knowing we are loved right where we are, imperfections and all.

 

Listen to Mary’s devotion below or on your fave podcast app!

Where Your Feet Are: Embracing the Spiritual Practice of Presence

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When Jesus was walking to heal Jairus’s daughter, something remarkable happened. In the midst of an urgent mission, surrounded by a pressing crowd, He suddenly stopped and asked, “Who touched my clothes?” (Mark 5:30). His disciples were baffled; people were touching Him from every direction. But Jesus remained still, fully present in that moment, aware that someone had reached out to Him in faith. He discovered that it was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years. And in the middle of Jesus’s rush to heal a little girl, He stopped to heal this woman whose health had been suffering for over a decade.

This story has always fascinated me because it illustrates something profound about presence. Here was Jesus, on His way to perform a miracle, yet He was so present in the moment that He could feel one precious touch among many. He didn’t brush it off or keep moving toward His “more important” destination. Instead, He stopped, noticed, and engaged fully with the woman before Him.

Today, this kind of presence feels nearly impossible. Our minds constantly race between yesterday’s “What did I do?”  and tomorrow’s “What do I need to do?” We check our phones during conversations, plan our responses while others are speaking, and often find ourselves physically in one place while our minds are somewhere else completely.

And friend—this is the person I naturally am—a born multitasker giving 27 percent attention to three different tasks all at the same time.

Yet Scripture repeatedly invites us into the sacred. The Psalmist reminds us, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10 NIV).

Moses encountered God’s presence in the ordinary moment of tending sheep. Martha’s sister, Mary, chose the “better part” by sitting attentively at Jesus’s feet. These weren’t just moments of physical stillness. They were moments of holy attention, being fully present where their feet were planted.

But what does this kind of presence look like today? How do we practice being where our feet are planted when our world seems designed to pull our attention in a thousand different directions?

I believe it starts with recognizing that presence is a practice, not a destination. Just as Jesus walked at what we might call “the speed of love” — taking time to notice, to engage, to be fully present with those around Him, we too can learn to slow down and notice God’s movement in our ordinary moments.

This presence isn’t just about paying attention. It’s about recognizing the sacred in the ordinary moments of our days. Think about Moses’s encounter with God in Exodus 3:5 (NIV). “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” The ground hadn’t changed; Moses’s awareness had changed. And with a God who never changes, I want to be the one who is willing to let my awareness of Him change.

Here are some practical ways to cultivate this kind of presence:

1. Begin your day with “sacred stillness.” Before reaching for your phone or jumping into tasks, pause to acknowledge God’s presence. Most mornings when I wake up, I will take one fresh, deep breath and breathe in God’s presence. Let your first thoughts be directed toward Him rather than your to-do list. Because that to-do list? Won’t stay silent for long …

2. Practice “threshold moments.” Every time you cross a threshold — entering a new room, starting a new task, beginning a conversation — take a breath and silently ask, “Lord, where are You in this moment?” And if you feel like this is a hard practice, do what I did and start with a post-it note on your doorframe to remind you. Eventually, you won’t need the reminder anymore.

3. Choose one daily activity to be your “presence practice.” Maybe it’s washing dishes, driving to work, or preparing meals. During this activity, intentionally notice the details, the sensations, the presence of God in that ordinary moment.

4. Develop what I call “holy attention” in your relationships. When someone is speaking, practice listening without planning what you’re going to say next. Notice their expressions, their emotions, the way God might be moving in their lives. People are so desperate to be heard. You could be the one to make them feel seen today.

This isn’t about maintaining a constant state of mental prayer. Who could do that? It’s about developing an awareness of God’s presence in every moment, in every circumstance.

This practice of presence isn’t about perfection. Each day we have the opportunity to practice connection or disconnection. Yes, I still mindlessly scroll on Instagram when I’m having a hard day, but more often I find myself content with my own company in the presence of God. For someone who has always sought distraction, what a gift being present can be.

If you’re looking for a way to practice God’s presence (while taking care of your future self with some delicious recipes), order Kathi’s new cookbook, Sabbath Soup: Weekly Menus and Rhythms to Make Space for a Day of Rest.

 

Listen to Kathi’s devotion here on wherever your stream podcasts!

The Weight of Expectations

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Expectations can be tricky. Admittedly, I’ve made some of my worst parenting and personal decisions based on societal pressure or what I thought was expected of me. (Sorry, kids!) I’ve allowed what I demand of myself or what I believe others want from me to mess with my head.

Did I properly celebrate a child or a friend’s birthday?

Do I give my kids what they want for Christmas?

Is my house clean enough or just embarrassingly dirty?

Will I ever manage those DIY gifts I’ve meant to make for years?

Do I talk to my children and extended family enough? Do they know how much I love them and what they mean to me?

Will twice-a-week occupational therapy appointments enable me to regain full use and mobility of my right arm after falling and having major surgery last summer?

Once I polish the manuscript of my first novel, will I get an agent and a publishing contract (my 2025 goal)?

In some circumstances, recent physical challenges have slowed me down. In others, they’ve taken my options off the table. I planned to finish my manuscript by October, but major surgery, brain fog from pain, and relearning to type with both hands and use my arm again delayed things. Life has felt upside down and all my expectations sideways. At one point I even forgot about my physical limitations and checked the calendar to see if I could work a shift with my church at the Operation Christmas Child warehouse in December — only to be disappointed in remembering my bum shoulder prevented me from that kind of service.

Lately, I’m frustrated, overwhelmed, and worried about disappointing people even more than usual. I emphasized lowered expectations so much at Christmas that it shocked my children when I handed them their traditional Christmas Eve pajamas. I’ve set the bar pretty low.

I don’t like to fail or to let people down, even myself. Who does?

Jesus understands what it’s like to bear the weight of expectations; it’s yet another way He can relate to us.

The Jews expected the Messiah to come as a military leader and fight their Roman invaders, liberating them and establishing an earthly kingdom. But Jesus focused on spiritual teachings, and on compassion, not might.

Others thought the Messiah would arrive as a prophet, like Moses. Surely, the Pharisees never imagined Jesus would challenge their teachings and traditions or undermine their authority. They continued to question Him, assuming they could trick Jesus into contradicting or breaking the law, or saying something that could be used against Him.

And what about the expectations of Jesus’ earthly family? He astonished Mary and Joseph by staying behind in Jerusalem as his family returned home after the Passover feast; they returned to find him among the teachers at the temple. (Luke 2:41-52) His family assumed Jesus would always attend to their needs first, but that wasn’t the case. (Matthew 12:46-49) His brothers and sisters must have believed their perfect big brother would eventually mess up like everyone else, right? (Wrong.)

Jesus taught that all life has value. He confused the disciples when He refused to ignore the Canaanite woman, whom the Jews would have considered a heathen. (Matthew 15:22-23)

I’ve been guilty of presuming Jesus will fix my problems like a genie in a bottle. Sometimes it takes years before I see the full picture, to understand that if God had granted my requests—though they seemed like a good idea (to me) at the time — they would have actually harmed me.

Jesus shattered the expectations of those around Him. He still does. Although He disappointed men, Jesus always remained true to what God the Father expected of Him.

If expectations run high and overwhelm you — especially at the start of a new year — extend grace to yourself and remember that Jesus understands. Follow Christ’s example by remaining true to God the Father, and you’ll never go wrong.

“Many are the plans in the mind of a man,
but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.”
Proverbs 19:21 ESV

Listen to Dawns’s devotion below or on your favorite podcast app.

A Door of Hope

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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 pray each story in this book is an open door of hope, to know that you’re not alone.

 

 

 

 

The Ministry of Mess

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The blank pages of my new planner stared back at me, full of possibility and — if I’m honest — a bit of shame. Would this be the year I finally organize our chaotic, blended family life into neat little boxes? Another year of wondering if I’d ever get it “right.” I turned over the blank pages in my planner ready for a fresh start.

A new year. A new plan. A new perspective.

I kicked off that new year with a family meeting, my planner in hand. I confessed that I was a grump to live with most days. My desire for things to “go right” often outweighed my desire for our family to “be right.”

I told myself that this would be the year that I would get our home and schedule under control. I told myself if only the house was clean, I would be happy and content.  And, believe me, when the house is clean I am definitely more relaxed and easier to get along with. (My people agree.)

This seems like it should be enough motivation to keep a tidy home.  

It’s not.  

In just a few short hours, the satisfaction of a clean house was replaced with me feeling agitated and overwhelmed. From little league to band concerts and college visits, we bounced from one activity to the next, bringing a parade of paraphernalia in and out of the home.

Though outwardly I hustled to keep up with my responsibilities, inwardly there was a shouting match between my indignation with no one helping and my guilt of feeling inadequate. 

When I confessed my struggle to the nervous-looking faces at our family meeting, the silence was awkward. You could tell they weren’t sure what to say. My brave teenage stepdaughter went first. “I don’t work on Mondays, and I can cook dinner on that day.”  

Through the brave, “I’ll go first” of my bright-eyed girl, God was showing me that I’m only alone when I isolate myself in my struggles. In the year that followed, our home did not always stay clean and our schedule certainly didn’t slow down. But, I began to see shifts in my own perspective . . . and this, in turn, made our home a more peaceful place.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed in your home life, here are some truths that helped shift my perspective from my own inadequacy to God’s goodness. I hope these truths will help you, too.

  • This is temporary. The years pass so quickly and family dynamics change. While the days are long, the years are short. It’s okay for me to give a little more or a little less than I feel I should. 
  • This is lasting. Kids become adults, and then they have a choice of who I am in their life. If I want to be an influential part of their future, then I need to act in our present struggle like we are going to be loving each other for a lifetime. 
  • I am privileged. I have people. (Some days too many people to keep up with.) I choose to remember the trust given to me by God and the privilege to have so much, even on the craziest days.
  • Lighten up. Those harsh words I spoke years ago and carry guilt for? My kids often don’t even remember. When we mess up, it’s a chance to model asking for forgiveness and move on.
  • Take it easy. This is the hardest for me because I love schedules, checklists, goals, and hard work. But my kids love me — not what I accomplish.
  • Laugh. If I’m not laughing at our perpetual chaos then I’ve forgotten one of the above… 

My inadequacies are not an invitation for another year of self-improvement and strategies. My deficiencies are meant to point me to a God who can provide above and beyond who I am and what I even ask for. 

“For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being.”
Ephesians 3:14-16 NIV

Now, when I open my planner, I see more than just boxes to fill. I see Monday night dinners made with love by my stepdaughter. I see laundry getting done — sometimes perfectly folded, sometimes not. Most importantly, I see evidence of God’s grace in our beautiful mess.

Those blank pages aren’t waiting to be filled with my perfect plans anymore. They’re waiting to record the story of how everyone in our family ministers to one another, making room for Jesus right in the middle of our messy chaos.

More Mending, Tending to, and Withness This Year

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One of my favorite picture books is about a little fox named Pandora. The illustrations are beautiful – both whimsical with a little bit of melancholy, just like the story itself. The book opens with, “Pandora lived alone, in a land of broken things,” and the first time I read that sentence, and every time afterward since then, I’ve felt the words as if they’ve reverberated somewhere deep in my soul.

The book goes on to tell the story of how Pandora goes from one broken thing to the next, gathering them to mend and repair, reconstruct and tend to, until she meets a little bird who, like the inanimate things she’s found, is also broken. He cannot fly as he was made to. I don’t know how many times I’ve read this book, but as the first month of this new year comes to an end, Pandora feels like just the reminder I need.

I no longer set New Year’s resolutions or goals, and for the last few years, I haven’t been able to settle on a word. Those practices have been helpful to me in the past. I love how some of these “new year” practices encourage reflection and self-awareness, and I know they can be helpful tools. I may go back to using some of them in the future. However, in recent years, I’ve needed to release them and reframe how I acknowledge passing through the threshold between one year and another.

I like to reflect on my becoming, and the becoming of the world around me. Like Pandora, I want to acknowledge that I live in a world of broken things with a heart that often feels lonely in its longing and aches. But instead of drowning in the seemingly doomed reality of that, I want to find the things within and around me that I can gather, tend to, repair, and be with, even while my heart aches.

Pandora, who doesn’t know how to fix the little blue bird in the way she’s fixed other things, chooses to tend to the bird with her presence. She watches him mend towards more and more life until he’s finally flying again. It’s a beautiful story. And after all that withness and work, it seems the goal only leads to losing this new friend. Pandora, left alone again, seems to wonder what the point is.

Have you ever been there? Did the fruit of your work or effort or faith turn out to look nothing like you thought it would? Did you pour yourself, your heart, and your hands into something or someone, only to lose what you thought you’d be able to keep?

The first month of this new year is almost over, winter might be dragging on whether it’s the actual weather or the wintering of your soul. Maybe you are crushing your goals and full of hope – if that’s true, that’s wonderful and I wish for more of that for you. But if you find yourself in another place – a place of doubt or questions, of deconstruction or loneliness, I want you to know that you aren’t alone and that hope is not gone. In fact, hope is for the ones who often find themselves a little lost and in the dark. No matter how broken or overwhelming, how cold or confusing it feels right now: you are still becoming and hope will not stop coming for you.

If it’s helpful, here are a few prompts to help you peer into your own brokenness and becoming, and the brokenness and becoming of the world around you. Take a minute to write your responses in a journal, or invite God into your time of reflection.

  • What things in my heart, mind, and body need tender care and attention right now?
  • What in my life needs mending and repair?
  • What one thing can I help tend to or mend in my home or family or community?
  • Who needs my simple presence right now?
  • Where can I plant a seed or prune a branch for the sake of my own and the world’s becoming?

I won’t spoil the ending of Pandora’s story here, because I truly hope you will go and experience it for yourself as it’s told and illustrated on the page. But I will say the message of the book might just be the reminder we all need: every act of mending and repair reaps and ripples so much further and deeper than we can ever dare to hope for or imagine. Every act of tender care, each moment of attention given to ourselves or another, every mend and stitch, matters and is done as unto God. These acts are tending to our further collective becoming and the coming of the kingdom of God right here and now.

And maybe that’s all we need more of this year.

In 2025, I want to keep becoming one who tends to, stays with, and mends. I want to live in this lonely world of broken things and believe that even here, Jesus came and is still with us, growing us into more life upon life, so that we may together live it to the full, despite everything.

 

Listen to Tasha’s devotion below or on your favorite podcast app.

The Lord Redeems the Day

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Throughout my life, I’ve watched the Lord come through for me in ways that are special, intimate, and uniquely personal. I want you to know that He will do the same thing for you. His character is to give us beauty for ashes, joy in place of mourning, and praise instead of despair (Isaiah 61:3). He is a good, good God. 

In 2017 my husband, Darian, and I were looking for a piece of property to build our forever home on the lake outside of our small town. We had been looking for roughly two years. During that same time, my brother was going through some struggles of his own. He was making decisions that were not helpful to himself or his family. We had been earnestly praying for him to recognize what he was doing and make a change in his life. Through phone calls and conversations he had with friends and family, we found he had come to those realizations. 

As a family with open arms, we were all expecting him to make a full 180 in his life. Instead, on July 20, 2017 we received the tragic news that my brother had passed away. I’ll never forget the day the phone call came. I was out scouting the land to potentially build our forever home on. I had driven my Jeep to a piece of property overlooking the lake when my phone lit up with my brother’s number displayed. I knew right then that something was wrong. It was in that place, admiring such a beautiful view, where I received the devastating news. 

The Bible says in 1 Thessalonians 4:13 (NLT), “And now, dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope.” Grief is real. It hurts. On this earth we will feel sadness. Yet, when we know our loved ones are in heaven we relish in the hope that we will see them again. I’m so thankful for the Lord. Even in such sorrow, He holds you near. He’s close to the brokenhearted and He binds up our wounds (Psalm 147:3). I can’t imagine grieving without the hope the Lord brings. I don’t know how people live without Him. 

The Lord brought me comfort, especially during that next year as my heart was healing. In the midst of many tears, wondering what I could have done differently and wishing it were all a bad dream, He had people praying for me, calling, texting, and checking up on me. He made sure I knew He still had not left me nor forsaken me. He was so good to me in those moments, which is just like God – He surpasses our expectations and is faithful to show us His extravagant love. 

As the weeks moved on, Darian and I agreed we didn’t want the piece of property I was parked on when I heard the news. It also didn’t fully fit the criteria in our hearts. We had a very particular list we were praying would be part of our forever home. Darian and I wrote every specific detail we were praying for down on a piece of paper. The list was vast and seemingly impossible. It spanned from being on a cliff  with a cove to having space for life groups and family to gather, pine trees and a ceiling high enough to fit my towering Christmas tree. 

Wouldn’t you know it, exactly one year later, on the anniversary of my brother’s passing, we signed the papers on our new home. It had every single item on the list. I had to laugh when they told me the closing date, July 20, 2018. God is so good. In John 10:10 (NLT), Jesus tells us, “The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.” 

Jesus in all of His goodness redeemed that day for me. He took a day that the devil tried to steal and destroy and  turned it into a day of rejoicing. It did not bring my brother back, but it did show me, even in the darkest moments, that God loves me, sees me, and is for me. I will see my brother again someday and what a glorious day that will be.

But while I’m here, I’m so thankful for a God who loves me enough to redeem the hard days. He will do the same for you. 

 

Listen to Tyra’s devotion here on wherever you stream podcasts.

The Lifter of My Head

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I was standing at the kitchen sink, elbow-deep in suds (and silent complaints) when I heard the message, loud and strong.

Slow down. Look up.

The words rang clear as a bell in my mind. All day and all week (maybe all year?) I had been grousing and venting, feeling overwhelmed and overworked as a new mother. Back then we had two children, a toddler and a baby, and their constant needs wore down my patience and energy every day. I had wanted this life, had prayed and dreamed for marriage and motherhood, but the reality of what these callings demanded from me, body and soul, felt like more than I could give.

Slow down. Look up.

One small boy was tugging at my sleeve and another was crawling over my feet when the words rose up within me. Only two short phrases and four small words. But my head snapped to attention as if I had heard them hollered aloud.

What did God mean? Slow down: that was easy enough to figure out. We all move too fast in this busy, breakneck world. But look up? What was I supposed to see?

I held the words close all summer, and then for the next year. Slow down. Look up. As with any good word, I stumbled and faltered in my attempts to follow its truth. Slowing down was easier. I tried to move more mindfully through my days. I gave my children more space and time, trying not to rush them. I kept my calendar a bit less crowded. I aimed to start my days at a slower pace, turning first to prayer.

But looking up? That still stumped me. Maybe God meant raising my eyes to the cross on the wall, to remember Jesus in the center of my busy life? But that didn’t feel like enough. Maybe I was supposed to look out the window or slip outside to behold the beauty of creation in the wide sky above me? That didn’t feel complete either.

Then one evening, when my husband came home after a long day for both of us, I stretched up to hug him and felt my body relax as my head tipped back to smile at him. Look up. Not only did looking up bring me to the eyes of my beloved, but suddenly my shoulders and neck felt more relaxed than they had in weeks. Looking up felt like coming home, body and soul.

Later I discovered something marvelous in prayer, digging into the Psalms. A new-to-me name for God that gathered together everything I yearned to find in a weary, worn-out season of life.

“But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.”
Psalm 3:3 ESV

The lifter of my head. I had never known God by this name. Never thought about the beauty of God lifting my eyes to the heavens. Never imagined Jesus cupping my chin in His hands with a loving smile. Never made the connection between how good it felt when I lifted my head and lowered my hunched shoulders — and how good it felt to return to prayer and remember God’s promises.

All of this was held in one simple phrase. The lifter of my head.

That kitchen epiphany happened years ago, but I can still hear the quiet, loving words echo in my mind. Slow down. Look up.

Since that day I have carried this name for God like a prayer in my pocket during the hardest moments of my life: grief, loss, and suffering. If this name for God were true, then it had to be true always. Even here, even now, You are still the lifter of my head.

And on beautiful days, too — when warm sun breaks through dark clouds, when a friend’s encouragement gives a boost, when my teenagers spare a rare hug, or when a song on the radio turns my gloomy mood around — I remember:

“You, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.”

When you are discouraged, God is the lifter of your head.

When you are grieving, God is the lifter of your head.

When you are weary and worn and wandering far from faith, God is still the lifter of your head.

Most importantly, none of us have to lift our heads by our own strength. God alone raises us up: the Creator who made our bodies, the Healer who touches our pain, the Light who directs our paths, and the Wisdom who guides our steps. If Lifter of My Head is part of God’s own name and nature, then we can let our heads gaze upon goodness again, shining full and bright in the face of Love itself.

Slow down. Look up. How might The Lifter of Your Head be calling to your heart today?

For more encouraging reflections on life after loss and healing after suffering, check out Laura’s weekly essays at The Holy Labor.

 

Listen to Laura’s devotion here or on your favorite podcast app!

Know Who Made You

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You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
Thank You for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
Psalm 139:13-14 NLT

Sometimes it can be tempting to look at ourselves and be critical of what God has made. (Amen? I know it’s not just me.) Really, God, with the ADHD? And why would you make me with limited vision? What exactly were you thinking with these hips? And the anxiety? Really, God?

The psalmist is convinced that God is the One who made us, and I’m going to believe that an intentional God had a purpose when He made me. And when He made you.

I don’t pretend to understand God’s intentions, but if I use my prayerful imagination, I can perhaps begin to explore what God might possibly have had in mind. For example, I’ve heard that folks who aren’t neurotypical, or have other types of physical or emotional challenges, can have a tender heart for those who face their own challenges. I’m not going to pretend to know why some folks struggle with anxiety or depression, but I do know that God is very present to those who know they need Him.

Your one-of-a-kind design by God likely includes some incredible gifts and passions, and it also may include some challenges. And I’m confident that God can use those challenges for your good and for the good of others. Ask God to show you how.

Consider the ways in which you have been critical of how God made you. Then, one by one, offer those to God and ask God how He sees each one.

God, I believe that You are the One who made me, on purpose. Give me Your vision for the parts of myself I don’t yet love, and show me what You have in mind for me. Amen.

Dive into a 100-day devotional by Chrystal Evans Hurst, 100 Days to Discovering the Gift of You, about being who God made you to be in the midst of life’s challenges. When our plans don’t succeed, when turmoil arises, or when we have to take unexpected detours in life, it can be difficult to trust what God is doing and our place in it. But understanding the depth of God’s love and the truth of His Word can help us retrench, rebuild, and move forward. Over the course of 100 days, Chrystal will steward readers through this process and help them discover their unique gifts, emerge more confident in God, and become more excited about the future He has in store. Here’s a peek inside 100 Days to Discovering the Gift of You at a word from Chrystal:

“Have you discovered the gift of you?

If you’re like many women I know, it’s possible that you aren’t yet entirely convinced that you are a one-of-a-kind wonder — a gift from God to the world.

And I get it. Maybe the last few decades just didn’t unfold the way you once imagined. Or perhaps there was an unexpected rupture — a death, a medical challenge, a divorce — that you never expected. Or there may have been other obstacles that kept you from living the dreams you had for your life. I understand.

And I also believe that you can embrace the gift of who you are.

I know that you’ve been doing your best. I know that you wake up and make the most of each day that you’re given. And I also know that who you are is worth naming and owning and celebrating. And I believe that embracing the gift of who you are is possible. I believe that, wherever you are today, you can discover the gift of you.”

What a great pep talk! This is exactly what you’ll find in Chrystal’s new book, 100 Days to Discovering the Gift of You.

Order your copy today. . . And, enter to WIN one of five copies that we’re giving away*! Leave a comment on this article and be entered to win.

Then be SURE to tune in to the (in)courage podcast this weekend for a conversation with Becky Keife and Chrystal. Listen on your favorite podcast app!

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and will close at 11:59 pm central on 2/17/25.

Why We Can’t Take “Together” out of the Gospel

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When my children were small, I wanted them to know Jesus. As the African-American mother of bi-racial children, I desired a church where my kids could see the gospel of Jesus lived out in a loving way between people of different races and cultures. It bothered me that I’d grown up singing that Jesus loved all the children — red and yellow, black and white — but I’d seen Jesus-followers look at other-colored brothers and sisters in Christ in unloving ways.

I’d seen an advertisement about a new church meeting in a school. I grew up in a traditional Black Baptist church, so it was a little weird going to church at a school. As I opened the doors, I wasn’t surprised that none of the adults looked like me. But I was shocked when two small African-American children ran by and disappeared around a corner. I looked for their parents but gave up and went into the auditorium. People were friendly, but it was still uncomfortable for me. It was a similar feeling that my Caucasian friends would describe when they drove across the unfamiliar side of town at night and got caught at a traffic light.

The pastor came out and introduced himself by his first name, Lee. My eyebrows raised because that kind of informality was shocking to me. At some point in the message, Lee mentioned that he and his wife were foster parents and I realized that those two little Black kids were his foster children.

That was the moment I decided I would attend that church.

Not only was I grateful to hear Lee teach about the gospel, but he also lived the gospel — lived like he truly believed God loved the whole world, meaning all people. The pastor not only embraced color but invited color into his home with love.

Far too many Christians get defensive or uncomfortable when skin color comes up in church. Let’s not forget that color was divinely created by a holy God and therefore, inextricably woven into the gospel story. Racism is an injustice against God’s creation that grieves the heart of God. Therefore, our problems with race and color need the blood of the cross, too!

For centuries around the world, the topic of race is and has been one of the biggest barriers between Jesus-followers. Even after the massive civil rights movement of 2020, the most segregated space in America is still within our churches. If the gospel that we preach is only to people who look like us, we’re robbing ourselves of witnessing the full beauty and glory of what a colorful gospel looks like. The early church shows us an intentionality few churches have today. Most of all, the early church shows us the blessings that we’re missing out on.

After the Day of Pentecost, Peter taught and thousands came to Christ. Then, Acts 2:39-47 documents how all the believers met together. Who were all the believers? You better believe that “all” included Jesus-followers from different races and cultures who’d come to Jerusalem. They had differences in how they looked and lived, but they still intentionally tucked themselves around communal tables. Look at what happened next. Notice the word “together” after their activities:

“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.”
Acts 2:46 NIV

After the sermon, people didn’t have to continue to worship together, meet together, or eat together, but they chose to! As a result, non-believers were attracted to the remarkable community. Non-believers were probably astonished by the unlikely love and shocking unity between people who looked and lived differently. That visual scene plus the power of the gospel message resulted in many non-believers getting saved (Acts 2:47).

It’s my belief that we can never be the best version of the gospel if we’re not connected to those who look different from us but are an essential part of our “together.”

As a Black person, I’ve wondered often why God created us with different skin colors because it has created much hardship and heartache. Yet, God shifts the atmosphere of any struggle when we let Him in. So, if God’s character is love, grace, holiness, and justice and we invite God into the abyss of our racial struggles, then God’s glory will overpower what we can’t fix on our own.

In the most well-known civil rights speech of all time, Dr. Martin Luther King cast his vision. Notice how Dr. King’s words reflect the beauty of the Jesus-followers’ togetherness in Acts 2:

“I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.”

Dr. King is right. God’s gospel glory is revealed when we as believers are intentional about standing together. Maybe today God is prompting you to pray about finding the Jesus-followers who are the other part of your “together.”

Originally published on January 16, 2023.