God Has Not Forgotten Our Grief

God Has Not Forgotten Our Grief

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Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.
2 Corinthians 1:3-5 (CSB)

As we remember those we lost on this day nineteen years ago, let’s sit in these words from 2 Corinthians. The Father of mercies and the God of all comfort is with us. He has not forgotten our grief nor the pain that continues to linger from the aftermath of tragedy. And as we are comforted by Him, may we offer the same tenderness to others today.

The Fight for Community Is Always Worth It

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I like to be the one who shows up — the one who serves and gives and meets a need. Although I have become much better at receiving, it doesn’t come naturally. I don’t like to come across as needy or dependent. But the Lord has been showing me that that is exactly how He wants us to be. He wants us to be in need of Him — the giver of every good and perfect gift. He supplies every need we could ever have, and many times He does so through the Church — the body of Christ.

It’s okay to need people and depend on them because that’s how it’s supposed to be.

I have had friends over the years who heard from the Lord and blessed me with finances, groceries, rides, help with moving, and even places to live. Every single time, I felt loved and seen and cared for by God and my community.

However, over the last couple of months, I’ve needed community in a different way. My heart needed them. I longed for connection, but my flesh put up a huge fight to try to push people away. I became withdrawn though I couldn’t hide my emotions from them. My community could tell my joy had faded. They could see I was sad, and they became concerned.

One day, I sat in a friend’s kitchen and sobbed while trying to explain my heartache. Another friend texted me almost every day for a week despite my not responding. Another did the same, and we eventually met for lunch. Yet another met me for coffee. My pastor’s wife reached out, and we were able to connect. Several others friends even gathered and prayed for me at my church’s weekly prayer meeting when I wasn’t there.

In those encounters, I wept as I shared my hurt and I was met with nothing but love, grace, and compassion. There were hard truths spoken, challenges issued, and encouragement poured out like oil. It was all so beautiful!

Needless to say, I was blown away by the response of my church and awed by the love of God I felt through them. They carried me like the friends who carried and lowered the paralytic man through the roof in Luke 5:17-26.

There are no details given about the man except that he was paralyzed. We know nothing about his family’s involvement in his life nor about his character or lack thereof. The only thing we know is that he needed healing, and his friends made a way to get him to Jesus.

 When Jesus saw their faith, he said, “Friend, your sins are forgiven.”
Luke 5:20 (NIV)

It’s not always our faith that brings healing. When Jesus saw the friends’ faith, He healed the paralytic man — physically and spiritually. In my mind, I imagine this man must have been paralyzed for years, that he tried everything he could think of to get healed. He may have spent all the money he had on treatments that by the time Jesus came to his town, he was desperate and hopeless.

But his friends were not. He may have run out of faith, but they were full of faith. In fact, they had enough faith for him. They believed that Jesus was who He said He was and that He could do what He said He could do. As a result, their faith made the miracle of healing possible for their paralyzed friend.

I hadn’t experienced that kind of persistent love from a church community before. As they met me and encouraged me, I felt like Moses in Exodus 17 when Aaron and Hur held up his arms when he was too weary. I felt tired and defeated, and the enemy came for me with a vengeance, trying to keep me away from the very people I needed. But my community rose up like an army to defend me. They wielded the sword of the Spirit on my behalf and spoke God’s promises over me. They didn’t give up on me, and they wouldn’t let me give up.

Community is messy and hard, but it is also beautiful and life-giving. The fight for it will always be worth it.

We need each other, and we are truly better together.

How have you experienced the persistent love of a church community?

An Act of Courageous Joy

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And a woman in the town who was a sinner found out that Jesus was reclining at the table in the Pharisee’s house. She brought an alabaster jar of perfume and stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to wash his feet with her tears. She wiped his feet with her hair, kissing them and anointing them with the perfume.
Luke 7:37-38 (CSB)

Does any other physical sign show brokenness like weeping? The woman who anointed Jesus’ feet with perfume in Luke 7 shows how beautiful our brokenness can be. She knew she was a sinner, and so did everyone else in the room. She was known for her sins all over town, making her a social outcast. But her brokenness didn’t keep her from Jesus. She knew she would not be cast out with Him. She knew He was the One who would save her.

Desperate to show her gratitude, she brought an incredibly expensive bottle of perfume and anointed her Lord. The aroma no doubt filled the noses of everyone in the room while her weeping filled their ears. Her actions in this moment would have seemed improper to everyone watching, but she clearly did not mind. Unlike those around her, she understood the debt Jesus forgave, and this made her courageous in front of those who would usually make her hang her head in shame. She was no longer overcome with brokenness but with gratitude. Her brokenness became beautiful when she encountered her Lord.

The Pharisee who was hosting Jesus for dinner that night did not see this brokenness and courage as a beautiful thing, however. He didn’t immediately understand Jesus’ response to this woman. Doesn’t Jesus know what a sinner she is?, he wondered. How dare she carry on that way? How dare He let her do so? Given her reputation around town, doesn’t He know what this looks like?

Jesus answered with a parable of two forgiven debtors, one who owed much more than the other. His story made sense of why the woman was so emotional, and also why Jesus accepted her grand display of gratitude as a beautiful gift instead of a waste of money or an improper gesture.

Turning to the woman, he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she, with her tears, has washed my feet and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but she hasn’t stopped kissing my feet since I came in. You didn’t anoint my head with olive oil, but she has anointed my feet with perfume. Therefore I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; that’s why she loved much. But the one who is forgiven little, loves little.” Then he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”
Luke 7:44-48 (CSB)

The woman knew her sins well; she knew just how much mercy she’d been given. And she wanted to lavish that same amount of love back onto the One who’d freed her. But the Pharisee, unsure of Jesus’ power and perhaps unwilling to admit the depth of his own sins, hadn’t experienced that same grace and therefore could not comprehend offering adoration with such abandon. Jesus’ take on things pinpointed the problem: the Pharisee couldn’t express an overwhelming level of love because he had not experienced that level of forgiveness.

In our so-called polite society, emotional displays are often sneered at, judged as messy and unnecessary, or even offensive. That wide brush paints all sorts of behaviors as “too much,” whether it comes in the form of hands raised too high during worship, off-key voices singing too loudly, a flood of tears pouring out during a sermon, or exclamations of “praise Jesus” in average conversations.

But why? Why do we value the reserved responses to Jesus and ridicule the expressive ones? Is it only that the noisy, wet sounds of weeping offend our sense of modesty and propriety, or could it also be that it forces us to confront our own mess? That it brings us face to face with our own shame, our own hidden sin, removing our ability to pretend as if we’re doing just fine by ourselves? Does encountering someone who radiates joy and praise make us uncomfortable because we secretly wish that were true of us? Does witnessing an overtly enthusiastic exchange of shame and guilt for mercy and grace make it clear that we are missing something? That perhaps we’ve gotten it all wrong?

When the Pharisee invited Jesus to his home, he probably expected to impress the teacher with a delicious dinner, beautiful presentation, or prominent dinner companions. He stood tall and proud, adopting the posture of judge and jury when the sinful woman dared to enter his home, kneel behind Jesus, and offer all she had. Instead, Jesus turned toward this woman, prostrate with her messy display of unfettered emotion and raised her up as an example. He accepted her offering and assured her of His mercy and forgiveness.

Can you recall the last time you wept? Do you remember the circumstances that brought you to your knees either literally or figuratively? Did you feel relief as you let go of any pretense that you were okay, as you confessed with your tears that you needed comfort or forgiveness?

No matter what you are holding onto or hiding deep within your heart today, you are invited to bring it to Jesus. Our Savior will take it from you and turn everything hard and bitter and ugly into something lovely and beautiful and pleasing.

By Mary Carver, edited from the Women of Courage: a Forty-Day Devotional, from the (in)courage community.

God’s Goodness in the Waiting Rooms of Life

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The symptoms had started slowly enough: headaches, muscle aches, and fatigue that seemed insurmountable. When their impact on my life became undeniable, I began the quest for answers. But it was only the beginning. In the months that followed, an entire cacophony of symptoms would replace the music of my life. My muscles grew fatigued after standing or walking. I had trouble swallowing, difficulty sleeping. I had tremors and numbness and tingling. Blurred vision made it difficult to work, and brain fog kept me in a confused haze many days.

A progression of life changes followed. I relied on a cane daily. For longer distances, I often needed a wheelchair. A chair lift was installed in our house so that I could reach our bedroom on bad days. I went from full-time work to part-time to not working at all. During flare-ups, I managed only two or three hours of mild activity and was confined to the couch or bed for what was left of the day. I missed out on bike rides, hikes, and basketball games with my kids in the driveway. Many nights I was too exhausted to leave the couch. I frequently cancelled plans with friends because I was too ill to participate. Conversations with my husband sounded more like medical team discussions than those of a married couple. And I grieved. I grieved deeply all the things that I’d lost.

There were no answers for all the tests and studies and doctor’s visits. No answers for nearly three years.

Inevitably, the waiting rooms became the spaces that shaped my faith. In those quiet, long moments, I was alone with God and the questions. There were so many questions. The waiting rooms were my desert, my place of wandering and testing and learning what it meant to believe that God was good.

I’d heard all my life about His goodness. “Taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8 NIV). I’d heard all my life that His plans for me, His purposes for me, were good. “I know the plans I have for you, they are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11 NLT). I’d believed in His goodness, trusted in it, even encouraged others to remember it.

But in the waiting rooms, my God felt anything but good. I was angry and heartbroken and grieving. I felt deceived — after all, the plans unfolding in my life were anything but good. How could He promise goodness?

He could — if goodness didn’t mean simply good things.

I thought of my children, of my role as their mother. I knew that in order to be a good parent, I would have to let my children stumble and fall so they could learn. I would need to push them, to encourage them to grow. I would have to let them go through hard things — to avoid it would ruin them. I would need to walk with them, support them, teach them, and comfort them through difficult things. I would need to correct them at times. A child without discipline, without boundaries, without the opportunity to learn from mistakes is a child who is not thriving. There’s more to parenting than filling our kids’ lives with good things. This is the making of a good mother.

I thought of teachers. A teacher who fails to correct mistakes in math is not doing his students any favors. Neither is a teacher who never pushes the child, never teaches new things, never encourages the student to move beyond what is comfortable and easy into what allows them to grow and learn. This is the making of a good teacher.

So, what, I found myself asking, is the making of a good God? A God who spares me hardship and heartache? A God who only allows my life to be filled with good things, comfortable things? Why do I think a good God would be any different from a good teacher or a good mother? Where had I come up with the idea that God was only good if I was protected and sheltered and spared heartache?

That’s not the goodness of God at all.

Rather, God’s goodness is something much greater, much more beautiful. The goodness of God is a God who is unchanging, who never wearies (no matter how weary I am), who never slumbers. It’s a God who walks with me through the fire and water, never leaves my side, and wakes me each morning with the promise of new mercies. It’s a God who gently corrects me and guides me and who refuses to leave me in the messiness of my own wrong ideas and actions. It’s a God who has my wholeness in mind and not just my happiness. And wholeness requires growth — sometimes uncomfortable growth.

His goodness isn’t some kind of deceit. It’s not disappointed hope or misplaced trust. His goodness, instead, is a heart that has my very best — my very fullness — in mind. His goodness isn’t absent just because I am hurting. Actually, it’s more present than ever.
Our lives are full of waiting rooms: those solitary, heartbreaking places full of questions. We question God’s goodness. We question His heart. We question whether He can be trusted in our circumstance. But the God who is good in the easy times is the God who is also good in the waiting rooms of life, in the broken spaces. His goodness is so much more than just good things.

If You’re Somewhere in the Messy Middle

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Several years ago, I followed an embroidery account on Instagram. The wild creativity and intricate detail drew me in, frequently resulting in wide-eyed wonder at the finished projects.

Over and over, I told myself, One day I’m going to try that and This will be the year. Over and over, my fingers scrolled social media, tapping “like” but never picking up a needle.

A few months ago, as the realization settled in that my new normal for the foreseeable future required a screen not only for work but for church and for all communication with family and friends, I knew something would have to give.

My eyes hurt from straining, my arms (much like my apartment) felt empty, and my feet were restless as they carried me from one end of the hallway to the other and back again with nowhere else to go.

I declared this to be “one day” and purchased a beginner’s embroidery kit. When the instructions arrived in another language, I turned to YouTube for tutorials on various stitches. Half an hour later, with a needle in one hand and a wooden hoop in the other, I began.

It was slow-going, confusing, messy, and, if my hand slipped (which it often did), painful. Just as I got the hang of one stitch, I’d find that the next portion required another, and so down went the needle as my YouTube search history grew.

It wasn’t until finishing the pattern that it became clear God was teaching me a lesson with every stitch. When thinking about posting a picture of my very first attempt at embroidery, the strangest thought crossed my mind:

I think I want to display the other side.

From the back — and I promise this is true — it’s nothing short of a mess. You might be wide-eyed with wonder, but it’s from wondering, What exactly am I looking at here?

It doesn’t line up or add up. There are threads in knots and threads unraveling. But when I flip back and forth, looking at one side and then the other, it’s the underbelly and the backside, the tangled mess that brings tears to my eyes.

I know this. I’ve lived it. In some ways, we’re all experiencing it together this year. There’s a great unraveling — a slow-going, confusing, messy, and sometimes painful unmaking.

But something, even here and even now, is being made in us. The other side of the hoop, and the whole of Scripture, tells me this is true.

The Bible opens with a beautiful, creative calling forth. “God said . . . and it was so.” Both the Old Testament and the New Testament agree, we were made in God’s image and declared His handiwork.

If God as an artist made you, then that makes you living, breathing art. Art that smiles and sings, wipes away tears and cooks dinner, tells stories and runs errands. Art that bleeds, art with wrinkles, art with kind eyes and laugh lines.

Art is what you do or make, yes, but it’s also who you are.

“God is not a technician. God is an Artist. This is the God who made you. The same God who lives inside of you. He comes into us, then comes out of us, in a million little ways. That’s why there’s freedom, even in the blah. Hope, even in the dark. Love, even in the fear. Trust, even as we face our critics. And believing in the midst of all that? It feels like strength and depth and wildflower spinning; it feels risky and brave and underdog winning. It feels like redemption. It feels like art.”
― Emily P. Freeman, A Million Little Ways

I think about this as the sun begins to set. I reach for my embroidery hoop and a new pattern, settle into the chair by the window, and pull the thread through as God paints the sky.

Soon, something will exist in what was once empty space. Little by little, stitch by stitch, something from nothing.

I might bleed a little or break a needle. There will be twisted threads and tangled knots. It’ll be messy. But it’ll be beautiful, too, because there’s always more to the story.

Years before embroidery entered my social media feed, I wondered how to best end my first book, the one that asks “Is God good in the messy middle?” The pages within refuse to accept an easy answer or cliche, but I’ll go ahead and spoil the ending: His goodness is woven all the way through. And so I wrote a prayer to close the book, giving it all back to the Answer I was looking for the entire time. It begins like this:

“Lord, help us to recognize that our story finds its meaning only in You. Show us that knowing the ending isn’t necessary for the here-and-now to be beautiful. Remind us that You turn messes into messages and tests into testimonies.”

He’s a kind Artist, a loving Father, a gentle Mother, the greatest of Storytellers. One day, the other side of the hoop will be revealed and we’ll all stand with wide-eyed wonder at the wild creativity and intricate detail of the One who wove us together (Psalm 139:13).

But for today, we simply believe. We wait with hope, we watch for redemption, and we trust that what looks like a mess is something beautiful in the making.

If you’re currently walking through a middle place, desperate to see God’s goodness in the chapters you wouldn’t have necessarily chosen, Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between is for you. You have not been forgotten or overlooked. There is beauty, even here, and you are not alone.

Love Over All: Love Believes

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When Jesus overheard what was said, he told the synagogue leader, “Don’t be afraid. Only believe.”
Mark 5:36 CSB

Every month of 2020, we’re featuring the Love Over All theme verse on the first Sunday of the month. 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!

September’s theme is Love Believes.

As this year continues on, it’s impossible to look away from the pain that keeps throbbing — in our nation, in our communities, in our homes and hearts. The chasm between people seems to be widening as disparities become more apparent and injustices keep happening with no end. Many of us are experiencing the loss of loved ones, jobs, and businesses and the stress that comes from working from home and helping our kids do school at home.

And in these times, how we view the world and others and God says a lot about where our faith really lies. Do we believe God is in control? Do we believe He is bigger than the problems we see and experience and that He knows when and how they will end? Do we believe He has the answers and can guide us through each struggle and controversy and loss?

Our heads may nod yes, but deep down inside, what we may need to pray is this: Jesus, make my heart believe.

This month, let’s practice putting our trust back into God’s hands over and over again. Let’s remind ourselves what Jesus said to the synagogue leader: “Don’t be afraid.” And let’s choose to believe — because Love Believes.

This Season Will Not Go to Waste

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I have been working on a big art project for some time now — or at least trying to work on it, should be working on it. But I’m learning to be okay with how it’s coming together.

This project is a collection of art paired with love and encouragement from many different women. I have set my own deadlines just to see them come and go without much progress. When I was first putting together my ideas and plans for this project, I never would have expected it to take so long and still be such a work in progress at this point. That’s, of course, because I couldn’t have anticipated this difficult season in my life.

First, I had mono. That virus many people have in their teens — I got to suffer through as an adult. I had no idea adult mono was a thing. I had a bulging disk in my back, which after months of physical therapy several times a week decided to rupture. It has been a very long and painful recovery because I wanted to avoid surgery. Then, I spent endless months trying to figure out why I wasn’t feeling back to normal and why I had so much pain and fatigue. Never-ending doctor visits, blood tests, and medications, treating one thing at a time to rule out each possibility and trying to get all sorts of levels to normal eventually led to the diagnosis of an autoimmune connective tissue disease. I went through all of that while also being diabetic.

It took a good amount of time to realize this, but I can honestly say now that I have been learning so much in this season that I would’ve never chosen for myself. 

At first, I tried to keep up with my art, my business, and my social media for said art business. I worked hard at being present, but I quickly learned I just couldn’t keep up. There were more days than I could count when the art business was the last thing on my mind. I would apologize to to those involved in the project for the changes in my timeline, and I’d give all the reasons why I couldn’t work as usual, why I wasn’t posting on social media, why I didn’t have any new art out, why I couldn’t respond to people. It was exhausting and frustrating, and none of the stress was helping me.

I came to understand that I needed to change the way I thought about all of it. I could keep apologizing for things not going as I had hoped and planned, but could I keep doing so if it was God’s timing or His plan for my life right now?

I decided I’d no longer be apologizing for the season I was in. I had very little control over what was happening. I certainly didn’t ask for all these awful things to interrupt my plans, and I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I shouldn’t feel bad for taking care of myself, and I needed to accept that God had me in this season for a reason. I needed to slow down everything else, focus on my health and well-being, and be open to what I could learn from it all.

Life adjustments take time, and when I finally accepted that, I found such a sense of peace. 

Now when I’m asked questions I’m not able to answer, I say it will all come in God’s timing. It’s the truth. I’m learning to let go of the urgent need to get this project done as fast as possible and just let it come to be when it is time. I knew pushing ahead even when my heart wasn’t in it wouldn’t produce my best work nor would I be letting His light shine through me the best way I could. I’m learning to give myself grace along the way, and it has been the most beautiful of gifts.

I have to believe His timing is best. I don’t know how long this season will last, but I know what comes out of it will be wonderful and meaningful, and that is nothing to apologize about.

This is my journey. I want my art and this particular project to encourage others in difficult times, and I am learning through my own struggles that God has His reasons even if I can’t see what they are. This season will not go to waste.

Praying Through the News Headlines

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During the 2016 elections, my husband asked our church’s Sunday school attendees to give their gut reactions to the news headlines placed before them on the tables. Avoiding any political discussions or expected church-type responses, he encouraged us to share emotions from the heart when we think through local, national, or world news.

One by one, we started to share: discouraged, disillusioned, heartbroken, hopeless, frustrated, angry, numb, hypocritical, sorrowful, lack of critical thinking skills, hopeful for the second coming, out of control, and the responses continued.

What could have been a potentially explosive discussion became a time of pointing our feelings toward this truth: God’s unchanging, infallible Word is the only plumbline that can help make sense of these days.

Regardless of where we stand politically or on issues of global importance, this year is another election year — a time when many of us have deep-seated feelings about things that are out of our ability to control or change what is happening. It only takes a few minutes on Facebook to find people spewing venom and reactions based on emotion, often without first taking time to check facts or sources. I can’t help but imagine that Satan celebrates each time believers act out, especially against each other.

In John 1:14, we are told that the Word became flesh and “was full of grace and truth.” Often, we forget that grace and truth must go hand in hand. I’ve felt a profound sense of conviction at how often I vent my frustrations and cynicisms before I first ask the Holy Spirit to equip me in my response and pray accordingly. We need to have grace toward one another and to hold onto the promises that stay true no matter what season we’re in.

Here’s what I’ve been reminding myself and maybe you need to hear this too: He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Nothing takes Him by surprise, so we can trust that He cares deeply for every decision. He is able to accomplish good, and His heart’s desire is that we seek and ask Him. That doesn’t mean that the headlines will change, but we know that He can use them for His glory.

I’m profoundly grateful that Jesus didn’t up and leave when the going got tough. He stood firm to the end and encouraged His disciples to do likewise. This is our opportunity to live faithfully in the midst of difficult times, to weep with those who weep, and to intercede on behalf of others.

Instead of reacting on emotion, join me in grabbing a Bible as we read the news for today. Let’s open God’s Word and use His truth as a plumbline to consider how we ought to engage with the world at large:

How do we fight against the principalities of this world? (see 2 Corinthians 10:3-5)

How do we show the world who Jesus is? (see Matthew 5:14-16)

What role does slander play in the news? What is tempting about slander? (Especially difficult when it’s presented as news, so pray for discernment.) What does Paul say to do? (see Ephesians 4:31-32)

For whom should we pray? Why? (see Matthew 5:44-45; 1 Timothy 2:1-4)

How can we know what to pray? (see Romans 8:26-27)

What does our heart attitude need to be for effective prayer? (see Isaiah 66:2b)

Also, consider the following as you pray through the headlines:

1. Pray the truth about God. He is sovereign and loving and able to answer our prayers about this topic. Speak that truth out loud in prayer. God already knows, but it helps us to declare that truth. Who does He say He is?

2. Do a heart check and ask yourself, “What attitude do I have about this topic?” Do I have anger or pride or some other response about this topic that will get in the way of my prayer? Do I have self-righteous or condemning thoughts? Ask God to forgive that attitude and help you overcome it.

3. Thank the Holy Spirit for leading us as we pray. Listen for Him to lead us now. (It’s okay to wait a bit as you listen for the Spirit to prompt you. Rest in the silence.)

4. Pray specifically for the people and the situations we read and see in the news. Pray for any change that might be needed — for salvation, for healing, for provision, for wisdom, for peace.

Now when my gut reacts in frustration and hopelessness, I open His Word. I commit to prayer and not just another “share.” I commit to bringing these news topics before the Lord, knowing that in the end He is the ultimate authority.

What are your prayers as you watch the news?

The Best Gift We Can Give to the Next Generation

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Tears pooled in my eyes before I said a word to my daughter, even before I walked into the kitchen, where I found her sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of hot tea.

There were so many things I wanted to say to her, so many things I wanted her to remember. So many things I still wanted to teach her and show her. This girl at the table was my firstborn, arriving into the world in the shadow of 9-11 and here she was: only days away from leaving for her first year of college, while a global pandemic raged on.

All grown up, resilient, optimistic, hopeful.

I didn’t know how to let go. And in this moment, here in the kitchen, I didn’t know how I’d even make it through the words I wanted to say.

“Lydia, I have something to give you . . . ” I sputtered, and laid a Bible in her hands.

She looked perplexed. She already owned several Bibles, and she and I had been reading through the Bible in a year together, during her last year at home. So why would she need yet another Bible?

But this Bible was different. For many months, ever since she and I had been reading through the yearly Bible plan, I had written in the margins of nearly every page of this particular Bible that I had just now handed her.

And every note on those onion-skin pages was written especially for her.

Those words were my heart, inked onto the margins. They were all the things I still wanted her to remember, all the things I had hoped to teach her, and more importantly all the things that Jesus had taught me in my life.

“Lydia,” I wrote on the first page of the Bible, many months ago, “you’ll read a lot of books in your life ahead. May you hold the Bible closest to your heart! God is the author of your story.”

And then, day after day, I wrote and wrote, always praying for her as I moved through the pages, letting her know the verses I had clung to for years, and sharing fascinating new revelations as I re-read old stories through the lens of a pandemic.

Lydia always saw me writing, but she didn’t know that each journaled word was for her.

Some of it was deeply personal. Next to Psalm 6:6, I wrote, “I remember reading these verses when I was a teenage girl going through a hard time. I remember having a sense that God understood my tears and was right there with me. He is with you too, and sees every tear.”

Some if it was timely. Next to Colossians 2:14, a verse about canceling our debts, I wrote, “I am reading this verse during coronavirus quarantine. Isn’t this here the best cancellation notice of all?!”

Some of it was silly. “Do not name your child Jael.”

But mostly? It was everything I’d want her to know if I didn’t get to have another tomorrow. It’s what I’d wanted her to remember about me when I was gone from this earth — that the best thing about me was Jesus. And it’s what I wanted her to cling to when she inevitably got rocked by the storms of life; I want her to hold fast to God’s promises.

More and more, as months slip into years, and years slip into decades, I am convinced that the best thing we can give to the next generation is a deep sense of who they are in Christ and how great our God is. The best thing we can provide is a foundation of kindness, integrity, generosity, and faith.

That’s it. That’s all that matters.

What do you want the people you love to remember most about you and about God? What do you hope they hold onto when the storms of life inevitably roll in? Write it down. Write it in the margins of a Bible. Write it in a card. Write it in a journal. Write it on the back of a recipe card.

Write it on the hearts of everyone you love.

Life is short. Time is flying by. Let’s write it all down.

A few days after I placed that Bible in Lydia’s hands, we were standing side by side in a parking lot, tears running unabated down our cheeks. I looked her in the eye, told her how much I loved her. How I would always be here. How I would be waiting on the front step when she came home.

Then, I wrapped my arms around here, and held her as long and as tight as I could.

And then I let go, knowing God never would.

Hope and Help When You Have Unanswered Questions

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I step onto the trail behind our home early one morning. The grass is still wet from sprinklers, the birds just starting to greet each other for the day, the bullfrogs around the pond sitting like sleepy sentries on the shore. I love the quiet of this time but my mind is loud and crowded with concerns and worries.

I ask questions that I imagine you’re asking too. What’s going to happen? How long will this last? What does the future hold? I don’t know the answers and God seems silent this morning. So I do the only thing I can: take one step forward, then another, and another. I pray as I do—messy, frustrated, confused prayers.

I think of one of my favorite Psalms, one I’d just reread in bed that morning. “Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again—my Savior and my God!” (Psalm 42:5 NLT) Can you relate to those words too?

I’d not looked at this Psalm in awhile and I became curious about how it ends. I was surprised to find the last verse is exactly the same as the one above, “Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again—my Savior and my God!” (Psalm 42:11).

I expected a neat bow tied around a truth, a restoration of confidence and certainty, a revelation that now everything would be different. But, no, the Psalmist still had the same questions. This is comforting to me right now in a season where so many questions don’t seem to have answers. It’s helpful to know that uncertainty doesn’t equal a lack of faith or trust.

What does the Psalmist do in the face of unanswered questions? He makes a choice. “I will put my hope in God…I will praise Him again.” One of the hardest parts of not knowing what’s ahead is that it makes us feel powerless. But that’s only an illusion. We can still choose our response.

Months ago on an overwhelming day when the news just seemed to be getting worse, I wrote a phrase on a piece of paper and put it on my desk where I could see it often. It said simply, “God is in control, and I am in charge.”

That is what we need to know when life is uncertain. God is still in control. He has not forgotten us. We have not been abandoned. He is with us, for us, working on our behalf even now. We can trust Him no matter what happens. He has also given us stewardship of our everyday lives—what we do with our energy and emotions, resources and relationships. We are not helpless. We can all ask ourselves like the Psalmist, “What will I do today?”

As an introvert, I find I need solitude to answer that question, which is why I went to the trail that morning. When life is noisy and the world chaotic, I can’t hear my soul or the whisper of God. We can look at solitude as selfish but it’s a sacred act of service. It’s what empowers us to keep moving forward, loving well, being brave, making wise choices.

Solitude can be hard to find, so as a life coach and counselor I recommend people schedule it into their day, even if it’s just a few moments. This can look like putting solitude on your calendar or creating a rhythm that lets you incorporate it into your life.

For example, fellow introvert, former Fixer Upper star, and entrepreneur Joanna Gaines says, “For an introvert like me, being alone for any amount of time recharges me. In the midst of a busy day I’ll sit in my car for a few extra minutes before coming inside just to enjoy a few minutes of rest or silence before jumping into whatever’s next.” All of us, introverts or extroverts, need at least a little solitude in our lives. And the busier we are, the more essential it becomes.

As I complete my route on the trail I, like the Psalmist, still have the same questions. But I feel calmer inside. I remember that even when I don’t know what the future, there is a mighty God who holds me.

I will put my hope in Him.

I will praise Him again.

Are you an introvert or do you love, lead, or share life with one? Then you need Holley’s popular new book, The Powerful Purpose of Introverts: Why the World Needs You to Be You. Bestselling author Ann Voskamp described it as, “Practical, researched, and profoundly helpful.” For a limited time, you’ll receive $75+ of free bonuses if you preorder (any version, from any retailer) and then fill out this form!

How God Has Provided for Us Since the Beginning

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Based on my family history, it’s no surprise I look for natural options and ways to eliminate our exposure to synthetic toxins whenever I can. My mother’s life was marked by poor health caused by medical procedures that filled her body with dangerous chemicals and the medications required to help her deal with the results.

For years she required a cane to walk and lived in debilitating pain, which controlled her life and prevented her from doing things I take for granted every day. I watched the slow deterioration of her health from my childhood until she passed away at 58 years old.

She never met my youngest daughter or her great-grandchildren. Other than my husband, my mother was my best friend, and her passing left a large hole in my life.

Nothing about my mother’s health was natural. I saw what a life dependent on medication and medical intervention looked like; it was tragic. When my husband and I took childbirth classes during my first pregnancy, I broke out in a cold sweat and made a quick exit the week we talked about pain medication. I got sick in the hallway because I couldn’t make it to the bathroom on time. I was more worried about pain medication than pain.

For years I lived with headaches and thyroid problems and took prescription and often over-the-counter medication daily. In 2015 I turned to essential oils at a time when I was stressed, my hormones were out of whack, I wasn’t sleeping well, and I was dealing with unexplained pain. I had recently entered the world of book publishing. Two of our boys were about to get married. I was thrown into new roles and responsibilities as the mother-of-the-groom (times two), and my stress level was off the charts. The phrase “stress kills” popped into my head a lot, which wasn’t a good sign.

One evening, at the end of another stressful day, I decided if there was any chance essential oils could help, then I was willing to give them a try. I’m so thankful I did! The combination of therapeutic-grade essential oils and a wonderful chiropractor changed my life.

Encouraged by my family’s positive experiences with essential oils, I began to study them and how they affect the human body. The research is fascinating. God is an intelligent designer. He not only created us but also provided these tools to help us live happier, healthier, and more abundant lives.

In the past, people spent more time outdoors and in contact with plants and the oils the plants produced. God provided them for our use and benefit. Why would He design us in such a way that we could only function properly with the assistance of man-made products and inventions?

It just doesn’t make sense.

Although I initially turned to essential oils for help with pain and stress, I discovered many additional uses, including:

  • chemical-free alternatives for cleaning and for health and beauty products
  • replacements for over-the-counter medicines
  • potent and easy-to-store herbs and spices for cooking options for flavoring water
  • ingredients in DIY gifts, such as bath salts and sugar scrubs
  • help with calming a child
  • perfume
  • immune system boosters
  • a natural air freshener in a diffuser
  • sleep improvement and relaxation aid
  • things to refresh my spirit

I designed It All Began in a Garden as a guide to fifty essential oils and their uses. Not only do they possess the power to positively affect the body, but they can also promote peace of mind, transform mood, or enable focus of thoughts and energy. As we explore each oil, I pray you’ll see ways it can benefit you, whether you are an experienced user or discovering this world of possibilities.

You will be amazed by the hidden benefits of the plants that surround us! I hope the stories in this book open your eyes to God’s provision in new, exciting ways and always point you toward the Great Physician.

Essential oils are rapidly growing in popularity due to their many physical and emotional health benefits. What the world has forgotten is these natural remedies have been around since the beginning and were given to us by God for our greater well-being.

This practical and informative guide featuring beautiful photography from Dawn Camp introduces you to 50 essential oils and their vast array of uses, including pain and stress relief, aiding in weight loss, increasing focus and memory, and much more! You will discover easy DIY recipes for homemade scrubs, balms, and lotion bars, and inspiration and encouragement from Dawn throughout.

Rediscover the good things God created and nurture your physical and spiritual health with this one-of-a-kind resource.

How We Are All Called to Be Bridge Builders

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Back in January, my husband and I took a trip to San Francisco to celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary. At the time, we didn’t know a global pandemic would follow just a few months later and that that would be our last time enjoying the City by the Bay with such freedom.

We are runners so our favorite way to explore is by checking out local trails. We started out on a cool, blue-sky morning on the paved trail just under the Bay Bridge. We ran along Embarcadero Street past the Ferry Building and all the piers, past the Aquarium of the Bay and Fisherman’s Wharf.

And then it came into view — that majestic bridge that makes San Francisco famous: the Golden Gate Bridge.

The Golden Gate Bridge is a 4,200-foot suspension bridge that spans a mile-wide strait connecting San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. This bridge is an international symbol of the city and of California and is considered one of the Wonders of the Modern World.

Shawn and I stopped for a break and gazed out at the great, poppy-red bridge before us. I couldn’t help thinking about how bridges serve a truly important purpose. They make a way. They connect one part to another. Bridges provide a passage across a divide.

Isaac Newton once said, “We build too many walls and not enough bridges.” When we are too busy building walls with our words, our choices, and our social media posts, I am convinced that what we need in today’s chaotic political, social, and racial climate are more bridges. This is hard and holy work for all of us.

My friend’s husband designs and builds bridges. He helped me understand that strong bridges have five essential parts: the foundation, the beam, the bearing, the pier cap, and the pier. Each of these five parts can be engineered in different ways but each plays a vital role in the overall stability of the bridge.

Each of us in the body of Christ has a different part but an indispensable role in building bridges. Our gifts, our stories, our cultures, our skills, our talents, and our sensitivities were all intentionally-given to us by God to serve the body of Christ.

Building bridges requires sacrifice. It means taking time to learn the nuances of people who are wired differently from the way we are wired, who look different from the way we look.

Building a bridge means bending to listen to the suffering my sister has endured and leveraging my own privileges to help her amplify her voice.

Let’s be real. It’s so much easier for all of us to just hang with our own people, to remain in safe spaces that don’t require us to be uncomfortable, stepped on, or repent of our own prejudices. It’s simpler to enjoy our personal freedoms without thinking about how these freedoms may infringe on the well-being of others, or worse, take advantage of the most vulnerable.

Jesus was the ultimate bridge. He didn’t just build bridges between people. He became the bridge Himself. He was the connection, the foundation, the one who leveraged His own privileges to become human and secure eternity for all of us who choose to believe.

Our Savior wore a crown of thorns and carried a cross up the steepest hill to be crucified so we might all experience grace, freedom from sin, and His glory. He made Himself the bridge for all humankind.

Being a bridge means following Jesus’ lead and actually laying down our politics, our prejudices, our passions, our perfect houses, our planned-out futures, and our piercing sense of entitlement in this country on behalf of others.

Jesus invites us into the ministry of reconciliation. He designed us to be bridge builders for His Kingdom. Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 5:18-19 (The Voice):

All of this is a gift from our Creator God, who has pursued us and brought us into a restored and healthy relationship with Him through the Anointed. And He has given us the same mission, the ministry of reconciliation, to bring others back to Him. It is central to our good news that God was in the Anointed making things right between Himself and the world. This means He does not hold their sins against them. But it also means He charges us to proclaim the message that heals and restores our broken relationships with God and each other.

This summer I led an online book club through LaTasha Morrison’s bestselling book, Be the Bridge: Pursuing God’s Heart for Racial Reconciliation. LaTasha’s book ushered us through some key components of the bridge-building process. Through acknowledgment, lament, confession, repentance, and making amends, reconciliation and restoration are possible.

She writes about how reproduction as bridge builders is not optional: “God didn’t draw us through the process of reconciliation for our own sake. He reconciled us so we could bring reconciliation to others in His name . . . He made us bridge builders so we could draw others into bridge building in His name.”

Eleven men died building the Golden Gate Bridge. That glorious structure stands secure today because people laid down their lives. Who can imagine San Francisco without it?

What would happen if more women who witnessed injustice against their Black and brown sisters linked arms to help them?

What if more pastors invited immigrants and refugees to share their stories with the church?

What would change if more teachers read books with their students about the history and sacrifice of people of color?

What would our world be like if more people of color took the risk to steward their stories well?

In the same way, may the love of Christ compel us to serve and sacrifice for others and build more bridges toward healing.

How is God calling you to be a bridge builder today?

 

Dorina loves staying personally connected with readers. Subscribe to her Glorygram newsletter for weekly encouragement and all the behind-the-scenes details about her coming book, Walk, Run, Soar.

One way we’re committed to building bridges here at (in)courage is through sharing our hard, vulnerable stories and leaning in to really listen. We recently held a two-part conversation that we hope will help us do just that. In Part One, we hear stories from women of color at (in)courage about painful experiences with racism. In Part Two, we learn together how we can all engage in anti-racism work through open conversations with the people in our lives.

Our heart is to encourage and equip you to share your own story about race and listen well to others. We’ll go first. Watch both parts of the video conversation here and here.

As We Lead in the Face of Evil

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They will fight against you
but will not overcome you,
for I am with you
to save you and rescue you.
This is the Lord’s declaration.
I will rescue you from the power of evil people
and redeem you from the grasp of the ruthless.
Jeremiah 15:20-21 (CSB)

All of us are leading in some capacity right now. For some of us, our circle of influence might be our families or our children. For others, it might extend to our communities or our churches or online through our words and images. And in these times when vision is lacking and wisdom is needed in every way, we can become discouraged in our efforts to lead well. It can seem like we’re fighting a battle we can’t win against evil. And when others attack us in word or in body for loving like Jesus loves or for simply being who we are as beloved children of God in our Black and brown bodies, the never-ending anguish and grief can be unbearable.

May these words from the Lord to Jeremiah give you the strength to keep going:

I will rescue you from the power of evil people
and redeem you from the grasp of the ruthless.

Lord, encourage us when we despair and help us to keep leading with hope. Amen.

Rest Is Resistance to a Do-It-All Culture

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I stare at the words I’ve read and reread for the last few hours, but my brain refuses to comprehend what it needs to do. Forcing myself to sit at my desk hasn’t helped move the work along, but my stubbornness keeps me seated. I watch the cursor blink in the same spot, telling me I’m wasting my time, but how do I tap into my creative side, how do I generate work, when I feel completely poured out — empty?

I hear the kids call for me from the backyard to watch them do somersaults in the pool for the tenth time in the last half hour. I want to relish these last days of summer with them, but I’m pulled by the stern demands of deadlines. I tell them I’ll be there in a second, but we all know a second can stretch into eternity with nothing to come of it.

I click through the many other tabs open on my computer to find something that will require minimal thinking, but every task and project are at the point where they need my focused attention. I close my eyes, close the laptop, take some deep breaths, and surrender.

I lean back in my chair, resigned and frustrated at my inability to push through, but in that quiet moment by myself, I sense a different pull in my heart — an urgent invitation to rest. It doesn’t demand from me as the deadlines do, but it does warn me that if I don’t take a break, I will break eventually.

I reflect back on the last six months and notice how much I’ve needed to care for everyone around me. Rest seemed like a luxury I couldn’t afford to have for myself, and I started to believe that the mark of a generous, loving person was to give until I had nothing left. It’s the unhealthy belief that I had grown up with — that being like Jesus means martyring ourselves at the altar of service to others, that our holiness isn’t founded on Christ’s righteousness but on the scars we bear, on how far our arms have been stretched for the sake of others.

But we are not robots created for incessant work nor are we the saviors of the world. And rest is essential.

Rest is resistance to a do-it-all culture that tells us to prove our worth. When our value is measured by what we can offer, our humanity is hollowed up and thrown away. It’s no wonder we can so self-righteously determine a person’s destiny by their usefulness, instead of seeing them as beloved, cherished human beings just as they are — just as we are.

We rest to resist. We rest so we can keep going. We rest because we have limits and because we can trust God with all that needs to get done.

Adrenalin had concealed the full weight of what I had been carrying, and now, as I sit still at my desk, I can feel it all. My body and mind and soul are weary. I am spent. I have come to the end of my strength to carry on.

The lie that I’m only as valuable as what I produce still lures me to open my laptop and keep pushing through, but I decide to heed the warning to rest. I walk away from my desk, get into my swimsuit, and to the gleeful delight of my kids, jump into the pool.

I witness their somersaults underwater and swim with them from one end to the other. I marvel at how much they’ve grown and how much faster they can swim. This has been a hard year, and there is so much we won’t get back again when it’s over — including this moment of pure fun.

I float on my back and watch the tops of the trees sway in the wind. The sun peeks through the branches, monarch butterflies flit gracefully across our yard, and I rest, embraced by the warmth of the day and held by the waters below.

God Knows Where I’m Headed Even If I Don’t

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I remember waking up and feeling this overwhelming heaviness.

“Happy Birthday! You’re thirty!” my husband smiled and shouted, excited for the day that lay ahead of us.

I walked out to the kitchen, made a cup of coffee, and looked out to see the boats crossing in the marina. I was at my favorite place with my favorite people, and life was far more generous than I deserved. Yet, I couldn’t shake this feeling I had.

I grabbed my headphones, turned on my worship playlist, and started on my favorite walking trail. As I walked past the bluest hydrangeas and Elevation worship played in my ears, I could feel my spirit settle down. As I started to unpack all the thoughts in my head, I realized that I had created quite the lofty expectations for myself upon reaching thirty years old. With previous birthdays, the expectations were less clear. But thirty? It felt different and monumental. The snowball had already started in my head and was gaining traction quickly.

“Should I have a kid by now?” (So many of my friends do.)
“If I would have committed to _____ sooner, I would be way farther along.”
“I wonder if I had done _____, would _____ be different?”
“Did I miss anything along the way?”

I was asking God all these questions, fully aware I was not giving Him space to speak nor myself the capacity to hear Him if He did.

Now, calm down. I know when hearing a thirty-year-old whine about their age, we all want to do a quick eye roll and move on, but hang with me here for a moment.

My overwhelmed and discouraged spirit had nothing to do with the age I was experiencing and everything to do with the picture I was painting in my mind. This new decade felt significant, and all the sudden, I was wondering, “Lord, do I measure up?”

Have you ever allowed your perspective to be distorted by the pace of those around you or assumed a story to be true based on social media or the expectations you didn’t realize you had until you were disappointed?

As Jesus’ firm and gentle hands held my heart, He reminded me, “Cleere, dear one, trust that I can get you wherever I want you to go. You aren’t behind. We aren’t behind. I am right on time.”

Unwavering peace started to flood my soul as my worry became dispersed like the waves I was passing along the shoreline.

The temporary dissatisfaction I was experiencing was because my eyes were on everyone else around me instead of the One who made me. He’s the only One who knows my soul, my purpose, and the unique path I will follow with Him.

Looking back, it is so easy to see how the enemy wanted me to stay inside my own head, throw a pity party, and live in that discouragement instead of focusing on what was right in front of me! He was using the false story I was writing in my head to weave a web of insecurity, uncertainty, and discouragement. He knew that if I stayed on that track, he could kick back, put his feet up, and I would do all the work for him.

But Jesus. He reminded me through His Word that the enemy was not going to have my mindset or my day. My joy was not up for grabs. 

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.
John 10:10 (NIV)

Jesus did not sacrifice, serve, and sanctify me so I can just “get by.” He wants me to have a full life, and He has already determined my inheritance. It is sure, good, and perfect, and gratitude and praise should encompass my life.

Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
you make my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.
Psalm 16:5-6 (NIV)

So whether we’re thirty, forty, or eighty, whether we have seven children or are struggling to have them, whether we’re in the midst of suffering or feeling like we’re on top of a mountain, whether we’ve achieved all we’d hoped for or feel immensely behind, God sees us. He is big enough to get us where He wants us to go no matter how long it takes us to get there. His specialty is “all of the sudden.” His nature is being a miracle-worker. His grace is sufficient, and His strength sustains us all the way there.

Imagine if a word like joy or worship or release flowed through your life for seven days straight? What if you quit worrying about where you fall short and aspired instead to one simple truth per week for seven straight days?

Through 52 short, mind-renewing devotions in her new book, Focus: How One Word a Week Will Transform Your Life, Cleere challenges you to exactly this type of transformation. Each week, you’ll dig into one word and see the power, importance, and relevance of that word in Scripture. Don’t lose another day to distraction! Now is the time to focus and know that you are loved and significant, and with Jesus, you can change the world!

To celebrate the upcoming release of Focus by Cleere, we wanted to give FIVE of you a head start on reading it! Leave a comment with a word you’re focusing on this week, this month, or this year, and you’ll be entered to win a copy of the book.

Giveaway open to US addresses only and will close on 8/31 at midnight CST. Winners will be notified via email.

Your Time Has Not Passed

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When I graduated college at twenty-four years old with a husband and a toddler, I felt so old. Shouldn’t I have been finished by twenty-two? Apparently you don’t age dramatically between twenty-two and twenty-four, as I had imagined. As a young wife and mother, the timing was perfect for me and my family situation. 

When I was told in my mid-twenties that you should have all your children before the age of thirty-five, that made sense because who would have babies when they were that old? Apparently I would. I delivered my three youngest children when I was thirty-five, thirty-seven, and thirty-nine. (Whoever decided on the label AMA — Advanced Maternal Age — for thirty-five-year-old pregnant women might have needed a course on sensitivity training in medical school.) My life would look radically different without those sweet blessings that joined our family when I was past the recommended age. 

When I imagined my life beyond raising our eight children, I thought I would be too old to offer anything to the world, that I would be obsolete. Apparently those life experiences have given me something to say because I published my first book at age forty-nine and will have published six by the time I turn fifty-five next March. Sometimes it’s the knowledge we gain with time that fills our resume. 

When my friend and her siblings grew up and left home, her mother decided to go to law school after years as a legal secretary. She graduated from law school and won the American Jurisprudence Award at fifty-one while working full-time, and now, at seventy-eight years old, she travels the country as a successful attorney who has worked in corporate law for over twenty years. She says, “People who think that life is over are just looking in the rearview mirror. If you have a voice and a choice, you have power.“ Apparently time doesn’t have to keep you from fulfilling your career goals. 

When a friend of mine was in college, she failed algebra three times. Embarrassed by it, she labeled herself “bad at math.” At age forty, she started tutoring a class of eighth-graders one day a week, which included introductory algebra. She took it one lesson one week at a time, and as she recalls, “At forty, I had more patience, focus, and determination. I was no longer embarrassed about what I didn’t know or how I was going to measure up against anyone. I wanted to master it.” Apparently time and maturity can improve our desire to learn, our willingness to tackle new things, and our ability to understand some subjects.

When Sarah was ninety years old, God fulfilled the covenant He made with her husband Abraham, and she conceived her first child. Sarah had been so disappointed in her inability to produce an heir that fourteen years earlier she had offered her handmaid Hagar to Abraham, and Ishmael was born. Now, in her old age, Sarah was transformed from barren to blessed. Apparently, God’s promises can transcend expectation or reason. Do you have a dream that defies traditional logic? Entrust it to God.

I will bless her; indeed, I will give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she will produce nations; kings of peoples will come from her.
Genesis 17:16 (CSB)

Here’s the good news, friend: there’s no such thing as being too old to make a difference. There isn’t a perfect age to pursue dreams like having a child, finishing school, writing a book, or launching a career. 

Don’t believe the lie that you’re too old to make a difference or that your time has passed. God’s plans and purposes for our lives don’t come with expiration dates. Let the knowledge and experience you gain in this life stage be the fuel that feeds the next as you pursue God and His will for you. 

Was there a time when you believed your time had passed,
but the Lord had different plans for you?

 

Are you interested in cleaner living and improving your family’s health? Discover more about God’s gift of essential oils in Dawn’s new book It All Began in a Garden! Learn more and snag your preorder bonuses at itallbeganinagardenbook.com.