What Breaks and Remakes Us

What Breaks and Remakes Us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Take Heart, He Has Overcome

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

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

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

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

And these are His words to us:

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

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

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

Get 5 devotions from Take Heart for FREE!

Learning to Soar Instead of Flapping Our Wings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We need to stop striving and start soaring.

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

When You Feel Guilty For Blessings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Consider Others as More Important Than Yourselves

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How Jesus Teaches Women to Be Treated

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I’m on Twitter – probably my first mistake – when a man starts putting me down. I’d written an article for a Christian magazine and he disagreed, let’s see, with my words? My tone? My profile photo? Who knows? In the end, he took the low road, blasting me, my race, and my gender.

In reply, I simply wrote this: “Wow. If that was supposed to hurt, it did.”

Later, however, I began to ask myself a curious question: does this guy talk to women this way all the time — not just to African American women? He seemed obsessed with knocking my ethnicity, but did he routinely find women on social media, dump on their souls, then get on with his day?

I reflect on this today because of what we’re hearing during this political season. In the U.S., more women than ever are running for Congress, and as candidates, they’ve become prime targets for ugly insults as if that’s okay. (It’s not.)

In Virginia, a small-town mayor, posted on Facebook, “Joe Biden has just announced Aunt Jemima as his VP pick.” After apologizing, he defended his comment, saying it was “humorous.”

Even before this year’s election, some musical genres have built lucrative careers putting down women – with some women sadly adopting the same putdowns to describe themselves.

Even in our own homes, a woman might face verbal assault. A verbal abuser, says philosophy professor Dr. Berit Broggard, “will define your reality, decide what you can or cannot do, and treat you (in their eyes) as an ugly part of themselves, a part that they have to undermine in order to keep their own sense of self.”

Altogether, these things have me thinking about women and how we are seen, in contrast, by the Lord. In short, when it comes to women, I’m not asking what would Jesus do, but how does He see us?

Here is my humble conclusion: Jesus sees us as worthy of respect. “Respect” literally means to be seen a second time — yes, in a new way, as worthy of regard.

I’m compelled, in fact, that during a time in history when women were seen as vile, petty, unclean, jealous, sinful, and more (the list is long), Jesus shows the opposite. How?

He talks to women. This in itself is remarkable. In Bible times, women were second-class citizens who couldn’t enter a synagogue for worship. They couldn’t touch the Scriptures, or else they’d “defile” them. Rarely were women even spoken to by men – even their own husbands. Thus, in all things by law, according to the historian Josephus, women were considered “inferior to the man.”

But here’s Jesus in Samaria, talking to the woman at the well, violating three longstanding Jewish customs, says scholar Jack Zavada. First, He spoke to her. Next, He didn’t discriminate against her, even though Jews of that era traditionally despised Samaritans. Third, He asked her to give Him a drink of water, “although using her cup or jar would have made him ceremonially unclean.”

Why would Jesus do this? We could argue He breaks these rules to show us who we are as women. But how about a bigger, deeper answer? In breaking rules about interacting with women, the Lord shows us who He is and who we, as women, are in Him.

The Lord is our Redeemer, our holy Change Agent, our Living Water, our Blessed Hope for today and tomorrow. After encountering Him, we become all He intends us to be.

As the woman at the well declares, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” (John 4:29).

In her village, people who probably never gave her the time of day recognize something has changed in her. She’s not the same woman. The Twitter trolls can’t harm her. The bullies on the street who call her names can’t devalue her.

Jesus knew all about her and still offered her Himself, the Living Water. His eye-opening acceptance of her changes how everyone else sees her too.

In a harsh and hating world, receiving His acceptance not only speaks of us but also speaks powerfully of Him. We are beloved by Him, and we matter. As we treat each other that way, may the watching world never forget that too.

Our Need for Real-Life Connection

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Although I try my best not to get on my phone first thing in the morning, the other day I checked Instagram soon after I woke up. Twenty minutes later, I went downstairs, made breakfast, scrolled through Instagram again, and then hopped on Facebook.

I put down my phone, feeling like I needed to actually get something done and decided to read my Bible and a devotional. When I was finished, I took a shower and got ready, pulled out my Macbook and sat down at my desk to check email. Once my inbox was manageable, I hopped over to Instagram and Facebook — again.

It sounds crazy as I type it all out. And that day, when I caught myself checking social media a few times within a couple of hours, I wondered why I was doing it incessantly. Deep inside, I knew my constant checking was about more than keeping up with emails and updates.

My heart was chasing after something more.

Finally, I paused to ask myself why — Why do I keep checking online?

I sat there for a moment, waiting for my heart to respond when these words rose up in my thoughts: You keep coming back because your heart longs for connection.

I wasn’t sure if it was God speaking to my heart or me answering my own question, but I did know this:

No matter how many times I hop on social media, it will never be enough to satisfy my need for real-life friendships.

Back in the spring, when our country entered the startling uncertainty of navigating a deadly global pandemic, our lives and relationships changed in an instant. Walking through various phases of COVID-19 quarantine, being with only immediate family, wearing masks and social distancing, we all grieved the loss of real-life relationships that were getting reduced to quick conversations via text.

That morning, as I stared at my phone, I recognized how much face-to-face time with friends over the past six months (even those wearing masks) had been reduced to a bare minimum.

I was trying to fill a God-created need for real-life relationships with a screen and alphabet keys.

My heart craved something no amount of digital conversations could fill. So what did I do? I pulled out my phone and did the old-fashioned thing of calling a friend without texting her first to see if she could talk.

She was at work and didn’t answer so I left a message in voicemail. I told her what was going on with me and asked if we could get together soon. I promised we could sit six-feet apart on my front porch or backyard patio and wear masks if needed. I just needed time together, to connect in real life.

The following week we met for lunch at my house. Looking into a friend’s eyes, listening to each other talk, and being listened to was just what we both needed.

Jesus valued face-to-face connections and surrounded Himself with intimate friends — His Father, His close friends John, Peter, and James, and then the other nine disciples.

He also had friends like Mary, Martha, and Lazarus — people He spent time with over meals and with whom He had conversations about spiritual truths that applied to their everyday lives. Through His example, we see how important it is to satisfy our craving for connection by spending face-to-face time with friends, even if it means getting a little bit creative.

Do you ever catch yourself checking social media more than once in a three-hour span? If so, the next time you do, ask Jesus to help you get creative in connecting with an in-real-life friend. Maybe you could go for a walk together or sit outside and visit. And if that’s not possible, schedule time for more than a quick phone call, so you can hear each others’ voice or a zoom call, where you can see each others’ face. I promise you will be glad you did!

The True King of Our Imagined Future

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I had just crawled into bed when I saw the ticker on my phone that Chadwick Boseman had passed away after a four-year battle with colon cancer. Within seconds of reading those words on my screen, the tears came flooding down, and I didn’t know how to make them stop. I wept and wept for days afterward. That whole weekend was a blur of tears and sleep and more tears. I’d find myself scrolling on social media or playing with my kids or watching a movie, and then all of a sudden I’d be weeping again with no warning. And I mean ugly crying — the kind that causes your soul to ache from the anguish ripping through your heart and body.

Perhaps it’s no surprise that my young son noticed I was upset. He wanted to know why his momma was so sad, but that was a conversation I didn’t want to have. How do you tell your five-year-old son that one of his heroes has died? I had just talked with him days before about the shooting of Jacob Blake. My husband and I had been discussing it aloud over dinner, and he had wanted to know what had happened. We tried our best to explain the situation to him in age-appropriate language, but even still, his face immediately looked terrified as he asked us, “Would the police ever do that to me? Would they ever do that to my daddy?”

There is too much pain and exhaustion from weeks and months of hearing about yet another Black man shot in the streets — George Floyd. Ahmaud Arbery. Breonna Taylor. Mike Ramos. Jacob Blake. And countless more.

However, the passing of Chadwick Boseman hit on another level. For the Black community especially but also for so many people of color, he was the king of our imagined future. In the movie, Black Panther, Boseman plays T’Challa, the king of the fictional Wakanda, an African country untainted by the scars of colonialism, racism, subjugation, and oppression. His steady disposition and even-temperedness is guided as much by his moral center as by his physical strength. Under his steady rule, his people thrive and flourish. It’s hard to even put into words all of the ways that this movie and this person has impacted me as an Indian American woman, but of this there is no doubt: Boseman was my superhero too. He embodied the dream of how this world could be different and the type of leader who could serve at its helm.

This is why losing Boseman opened a floodgate of grief. His screen entrance as T’Challa gave me hope in a world torn apart by racism, injustice, and violence, and the idea that he was no longer among us was a terrible thought. I felt alone again, and this became my moment of wondering if I should give up — not the months of anti-Asian racism I’ve been experiencing this year, not the police brutality and systemic injustice against Black and brown communities, but this moment. Boseman’s death was my tipping point.

In the days and weeks now following Boseman’s death, I’ve continued to grieve, but I’m also clinging to hope. To me, the power of Boseman’s T’Challa was his embodiment of a life that was Christ-like. His position and actions as king of Wakanda always made me think longer and deeper about the person to whom he pointed for me, namely Jesus. I mourn the good and the beautiful that T’Challa embodied, while also reminding myself that he made me look toward the one who truly is the king of our hearts. Jesus is not merely the king of our imagined futures; He is the true King, who will bring a kingdom that is incomparably greater than Wakanda or any real or imagined kingdom.

In Revelation 5, Jesus is presented as a lion-like Lamb. He is our authoritative King and the most powerful of all. However, the way this Lion exercises His sovereignty and power is not through brute force but through lamb-like sacrifice. The recurring imagery of lambs is one of tender, gentle creatures. It is Jesus as the Lamb of God, who speaks to us, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).

T’Challa, similarly, is a lamb-like panther, who is willing to give up his life for his people. In the movie, Black Panther, he says, “I will not abandon someone to die, when I have the means to save his life.” I love this quote because it makes T’Challa a figure that points to Christ. Jesus is the greater Black Panther, who sacrificed Himself for His people to bring true freedom, liberation, and citizenship into the kingdom of heaven.

The hope of a better future is not lost. The hope of a King who can usher us into this better future is not lost either. And I’m clinging to this truth today.

Embracing Disruption: An Invitation to Believing Bigger

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About ten years ago, I was running a very successful professional sports agency and doing national television on a regular basis. I was traveling around the world as a speaker and promoting my new business book that had hit #1 in the Women & Business category. To top it all, I was newly engaged to a man that seemed to be Prince Charming and getting ready to become a bonus mom to his three children. I was on cloud nine — so much so that I closed down my agency, which was the fastest growing, female-owned sports agency in the nation, for love!

My fairytale turned into a nightmare six days before my wedding when I found out that my fiancé was cheating on me — talk about a rude awakening! Not only was I heartbroken, but I became broke too. After studying Isaiah 48:21, I found myself in the middle what I now refer to as a “split rock” moment — a place of divine disruption. Isaiah 48:21 reads:

They did not thirst when He led them through the deserts;
He made water flow for them from the rock;
He split the rock and water gushed out.
Isaiah 48:21 (NIV)

The rock here represents a hard place where we feel abandoned and when circumstances seem impossible to survive. But through my pain, I’ve learned that what seems to be meant to destroy you, is actually intended to develop and deploy you.

New life, like streams of living water, flow from difficult places. We’ll never really know why things happen the way they do. But I do know disappointment and disruption get our attention and open us to divine reinvention. God is not out to punish us, but I am certain He takes every opportunity, no matter how messy, to prepare us.

Perhaps disruption has landed on your doorstep too. What appears to be happening to you is actually happening for you because of something greater within you. Disruption is an invention to shift into a higher dimension of purpose and calling. The shift may not have been caused by God, but it can certainly be used by God to catapult you into destiny.

Adversity comes to align you with a greater version of yourself that God has been trying to unleash for far too long. Disruption detaches us from who we think we are so that we can become who we were really made to be.

Let’s just go ahead and be
what we were made to be . . .
Romans 12:6 (MSG)

As I rebuilt my life, going from stuck to building a successful company and finding new love again, I realized that every woman will experience disruption. It’s not a sign that you’re broken. It’s actually proof that God is building something magnificent in you that will bring forth His glory.

As I started working with women to help them reinvent their lives, I’ve found that each of us has a unique mission and message, and I noticed a pattern that I call the Five Stages of Divine Reinvention and Purpose or The Purpose Map™.

When we look at our lives, we see a mess. However, God sees a map. The map shows us where we are on the purpose journey and makes clear that we are all called to impact and influence. No one is exempt. Most never make it out of stage two, but it’s time to change that. God calls us to reinvention, not retirement. Here are the five stages:

Stage 1: DISCOVERY. This is where we’re taught the do’s and don’ts of life and where we learn to shrink, settle, and play it safe. We ask the question: Who I am supposed to be?

Stage 2: TALENT. We pick a lane, start climbing the mountains of success, and master wearing masks that cover up who we really are. We ask, Who did I decide to be?

Stage 3: THE GAP. Disruption or simply discontent flip our life upside down, and we find ourselves in a wilderness — an in-between place of transition. We’re trying to figure out who we really are, what we really want, and what it’ll take to trade success for significance and let go of what no longer belongs. We ask, What is happening to me?

Stage 4: GIFTS. We uncover untapped potential, life-changing gifts, and our ultimate superpower — our voice. We ask the question: Who was I really designed to be?

Stage 5: INFLUENCE. We step into our life mission and the bigger impact we’re here to have. We are all called to lead. Finally, we ask, Where am I now being led to lead?

No matter where you are, know that you are indeed on a necessary path. Disruption makes room for us to experience a fresh indwelling of the Holy Spirit and God’s restorative power in such a special and intimate way.

I raised you up for this very purpose,
that I might display my power in you and
that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.
Romans 9:17 (NIV)

In the middle of pain, purpose is calling. There is a mission with your name on it. You must believe bigger to perceive it and seize it. And when we change the way we think, we change the way we live and lead others to do the same.

 

One of the best ways to discover what God has for you is spending time in God’s word, and Scripture-led journaling is an intimate way to hear what the Holy Spirit has to say to you. 100 Days of Believing Bigger is a devotional + journal designed for women who seek to live out their full purpose and believe God for the impossible. Each daily devotion revolves around four pillars: Scripture, Reflection, Journal Prompts and Simple + Bold Prayers. It’s time to uncover the truths about who you are, why you matter, and what you are here to do.

Click here to purchase. And for an extra copy to give to a friend, tell us whom you’d like to give it to in the comments below — we’ll select THREE winners!

Giveaway closes 9/25/20 at 11:59 pm CST. US addresses only.

Discovering Divine Peace in the Dark Days

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My husband embraced me tightly before walking out the door with his bags slung over his shoulder. I trailed behind him as he stopped in the driveway for a hug and photos with our oldest son. My husband, dressed in full uniform, stood with his arm around our little boy, who held a small, black chalkboard sign that read “First Day of First Grade” (it also happened to be his seventh birthday). After photos and final goodbyes, the kids and I watched my husband’s silver pickup truck back out our driveway and pull away. As soon as he was out of sight, an adrenaline rush of anxiety hit me like a shot of caffeine awakening me to the danger he drove toward.

A birthday, the first day of school at a brand new school, and a deployment all in one day was a lot. But this was not our first experience with deployment. In fact, in ten years, I’d lost count of the birthdays and milestones interrupted or missed and the number of goodbyes we’ve said that made us wonder if they’d be the last.

I stood there in my driveway, closed my eyes, and breathed in deeply, slowing my racing heart. I attuned my spirit to the Lord’s dwelling within me. I would live in awareness, not of danger and of the unknown but of the presence of the Lord with me.

Several weeks later, the buzz of my phone woke me just before dawn. The screen showed five missed calls. I immediately knew something was wrong. My phone vibrated again as I held it. I sat up and answered. It was my husband. I exhaled an anxious breath from my lungs. He wanted to reach me before I turned on the TV and saw the news. Through hurried, hushed words that lacked detail, he told me he was safe, but others were not. I felt weak and weepy, but I just listened quietly. He spoke with composure, but I’ve known his voice long enough to hear the emotions he was trying to repress. With forced stoicism, he told me to pray and to tell our two sons that he loved them. The goodbye felt permanent. I slid off our bed onto the floor as tears slid down my cheeks and prayed with my forehead resting against our mattress.

During that deployment, my husband was on a mission that killed one of his friends. Any comfort we tried to offer each other thousands of miles apart in the midst of a traumatic tragedy fell short. And due to his position, I could only confide in a couple of friends. I spent days and nights battling rounds of worry and crying. In the panic, I wanted peace, and in the mourning, I wanted comfort. But I had become a veteran of mental, emotional, and spiritual battles, and I’d learned how to move through them intentionally with the Lord and find endurance through hard seasons. He is the only true source of peace and comfort. 

While I could breathe through anxiety and find solace in the empathetic eyes and arms of friends, the only way through the battles I faced was with a surrendered dependence on the Lord. The Lord was with me always, and His presence went with my husband. The Lord’s presence is a provision of peace that sustains us through the scariest moments of life. I had first learned this almost a decade ago when our newborn daughter died, and it has stayed true through every hard season in our lives.

Life doesn’t always work out. People we love will die. And we might find ourselves in harm’s way, intentionally or not, no matter how hard we pray or how much faith we have. But no matter what arrows come by night, we can find consolation in reminding ourselves of who God is, surrendering the moments out of our control to His sovereignty and drawing near to Him in prayer. God’s divine peace dawns in the dark moments of our lives as we depend on Him.

Wherever you are, whether abrupt news has interrupted your peaceful plans, or the vast unknown looms before you, choose to lean on unchanging truth, not on changing circumstances. Pray without ceasing to discover the permanence of the Lord who goes with you, dwells within you, and will never abandon you. May you take heart in the Lord’s presence and live out your full dependence on Him. It’s in our dependence that we discover that His power strengthens us to fight our battles and endure with the peace of His presence.

The Lord is my shepherd;
I have what I need.
He lets me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside quiet waters.
He renews my life;
he leads me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
Even when I go through the darkest valley,
I fear no danger,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff — they comfort me.
You prepare a table before
me in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Only goodness and faithful love will pursue me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
as long as I live.
Psalm 23 (CSB)

Don’t Be Afraid, Just Believe

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The fear grew in my gut with the pending darkness, any semblance of peace fleeing as the sun set outside my window. Something about the nighttime hours seemed to grow my fear, like the monster in my childhood closet. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop pacing or calm my racing heart.

Two weeks before, I’d been diagnosed with cancer for the first time. The doctors still didn’t know the full extent of its spread, nor how to best treat it. And while they struggled to find solutions, I was left in limbo.

This particular night felt worse than the others. I tried praying, reading, watching TV. Even the normal distractions of making dinner and doing dishes didn’t do a thing to settle my spirit. The fear was unbearable, all the pending unknowns about my future intruding on every thought.

Not wanting my anxiety to cause my children alarm, I snuck upstairs to the isolation of my bedroom. That’s where my husband found me, crying yet one more time, inconsolable.

He sat next to me on our bed, no doubt struggling with how to help me walk through this new reality. He’s a man of few words, but this night he looked me in the eye and said quietly and without judgment:

“If you really believe what you say you believe, Michele, it will only get better for you from here.”

I said nothing in response. What could I say? He was right, unequivocally correct. Sure, life might get more difficult, the challenges more painful. But if I really believed in a God who loved me enough to send Jesus to save me, a God who promised He is currently preparing a place for me with Him forever, a God who said this earthly life is but the faintest shadow of the glory that awaits me in His presence, then no matter what happened, the best was yet to come.

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
1 John 4:8 (NIV)

John wrote those words, long after the Jesus he loved died, rose, and ascended to heaven. Most of his friends and fellow disciples had been martyred. And he himself had faced more hardship than you or I can imagine. Perhaps that’s why his words ring deep and true. Because he knew the only truth that can drive out fear is the unwavering, unending truth of the One True Love. Fear doubts that Love will win in the end.

Although my fear was valid, it spoke of the truth that I didn’t yet fully believe in a saving Love, a love that wouldn’t let death get the last word on my life. Thankfully, because of the truth of my husband’s words and the mercy of a God who woos me still, that night was the beginning of the end of my fear. It would never go away completely, and I still have days when the fear creeps in and threatens my peace. But it no longer holds the power it once did.

Instead, Love does. Love is the defining force of my life. Not the love of my husband and children or the love I have for them. But a bigger Love, the Love of a God who sees all, knows all, and promised to love me anyway.

Overhearing what they said, Jesus told him, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.”
Mark 5:36 (NIV)

Perfect love drives out fear.

Don’t be afraid; just believe. 

Ultimately, love — true love — believes. And that means, ultimately, it comes down to a choice. What will we love most? If we most love this life and our comfort in it, then we have every reason to be afraid. To be human is terrifying. There is so little we can control, so much we can’t predict, so much we can lose. But if what we love most is God himself, then we already have everything we most desire.

And that’s a love we cannot lose.

Don’t be afraid, sister. He loves you more than you know, and it will only get better for you from here — believe!

God’s Presence Is Always with Us

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They set out from Succoth and camped at Etham on the edge of the wilderness. The Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to lead them on their way during the day and in a pillar of fire to give them light at night, so that they could travel day or night. The pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night never left its place in front of the people.
Exodus 13:20-22 (CSB)

The phrase “unprecedented times” seems irrelevant to say now. We all know we’re walking in the depths of uncertainty on a daily basis. We feel it in our bones, and we are weary on a different level. And yet, there are also some of us who are starting to dream again, envisioning what the future will hold and how we can get there. Hope and fear, anxiety and joy mingle together, and we cannot go back to what once was. We can only move forward together.

Perhaps that’s how the Israelites felt as God delivered them from Egypt and led them toward the wilderness. All they had was His presence to lead them by day and by night. They had to keep going forward even when they couldn’t see a way through, but God’s presence was always with them — protecting them, providing for them, and redeeming them.

And the same goes for us today. When we can’t imagine how we will survive the day, when we struggle to believe in hope, when everything seems lost, His steady hand guides us. Let’s trust that the God who split the Red Sea is able and willing to make a way through for us too.

My Heritage of Resilience

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Immediately, at the start of our relationship, my husband, who is white, recognized the significance of my African-American family’s tradition of a weekend-long celebration of unity, gathering, and breaking bread together. The commemoration of roots so resilient, that we persevered through enslavement, the Black codes, Jim Crow, and other demoralizing policies and practices is now his and our children’s inheritance. 

For eighty years, our extended family has consistently gathered on a Sunday, at a small country church under the August summer sun to commemorate and celebrate our union. The branches and arms of our family tree travel from all over the country and locally to descend upon a small acreage, host to a central place of worship and a church graveyard where many relatives have been laid to rest. After Friday’s meet-and-greet and Saturday’s cookout at the park, Sunday sings to our souls the songs of those who have gone before us.

When I was a child, attending the 11 am Sunday service was like traveling back in time. Two factory fans, one placed at the front of the left aisle and the other situated on the right, attempted to force the heavy, sticky, hot air into a light airy breeze. The giant fans failed. The noisy blades propelling at maximum speed seemed to only provide busy noise. However, the cacophony was no match for the choir who belted out centuries-old spirituals or the preacher professing a two-thousand-year-old gospel. As a child, I didn’t like this church service. The pews were hard, the air was hot, and the preacher preached too long. However, even as a child, I sensed that this time served as a historical monument preserving a particular and significant story about God’s love for us.

After the final “amen,” the double doors opened, and uncles, grandmothers, and cousins poured from the back of the church onto the lawn in the noonday heat. Three-piece suits, floral pastel sundresses, wide-brimmed hats, and brightly colored scarves gave way to shorts and family-reunion-themed T-shirts. Then it was time for the annual picnic. When my grandmother was alive, she cooked for days in preparation for the family picnic. Once the tables were set, one of the family clergy — there are always several — pronounced a blessing over the food, the family, and the gathering. 

After we’d feast, we’d walk. We’d hold the hands of our children and guide them a few yards from the picnic ground through the Carolina red dirt to the graveyard. We strolled the rows of tombstones and burial plots reciting their names and telling their stories. Some were slaves of the Methodist pastor of Old Salem. Many were named after their enslavers. A few were mulatto — one was even buried in the white cemetery. They were pastors, evangelists, missionaries, and church planters, teachers, librarians, wagon makers, pullman porters, and blacksmiths. They served on the Colored School Board, in WWI, and in WWII. 

Though they were marginalized, their lives, their stories, and existence screamed resilience. Their lives were deemed insignificant by a dominating force of racial injustice. However, when we hear their stories, we hold their stories and glean from them truths about God. Their lives are a witness to how God loves us, sees us, and values us regardless of the marginalizing social, political, and economic stranglehold we live in.

I think about my grandmother, who when she was a girl, was “hired” as a housekeeper in a small, country town ten miles away from her home. When she was told that she would be sleeping on the back porch, she left, walked the ten miles back home, and refused to return. And as an adult, because she refused to give up her seat on the bus to a white person, she was arrested. How many times did she feel like Hagar, unloved and unprotected by society’s caste system? Like Hagar, how difficult was it for her to choose dignity over income or shelter? 

While Abraham and Sarah referred to her as “slave,” God met Hagar in a place of desolation and despair and called her by name. God not only knew Hagar’s name but by using it showed her respect. From Hagar’s story, we learn so much about God. Hagar’s story reveals God as El Roi — a God who sees, a God “who looks after me” (Genesis 16:13 ESV). In seeing Hagar, God affirms her dignity and that of marginalized and exploited peoples. In Hagar’s story, I see that though the prevailing custom is one of apathy, God cares!

The names and lives of our family members who have gone before us are not only captured on tombstones but are engraved into God’s palm. Like Hagar, despite her plight of being treated as disposable and inconsequential, God knew my grandmother’s name and respected her. I imagine as she walked away from humiliation and disrespect, God said, “Virginia, I love you, I care for you, and I am looking after you and your family.” I also imagine that God’s seeing her was the source of her and her family’s resilience.  

Even if you’ve been marginalized by a dominant force, feel excluded or forgotten, know that El Roi sees you, knows your name, and cares. And when you know you are seen, God’s care can transform distress into a testimony of resilience.

Take Heart: Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay

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Here at (in)courage we’ve found one thing to be very true: our heartaches may be different, but our hearts are the same. That’s what you’ll find in this space: stories from women in every season of life — women who have been there, women who understand. We don’t hold back, sugarcoating our experiences and tying them up with a pretty bow.

We live with courage, into and through the painful to see the glory God brings despite our circumstances. And then we write. We write so that you don’t feel alone, so that you know there is hope yet to come. We’ve written these stories here for more than eleven years, and now you can hold some of those in your hands.

We’re thrilled to introduce the next (in)courage book — Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay. 

We compiled this book with you, our beloved (in)courage reader, in mind. We know life has been hard. Life is definitely not always okay. And the stories in this book will walk beside you when your heart needs a boost. In this beautiful book, we’ve gathered unique and diverse stories from the (in)courage community that offer heartfelt encouragement for difficult times.

This collection of courageous stories from forty-four different authors is where you can find your story reflected. From struggling with weight, anxiety, and depression to suffering through miscarriage and grieving the death of a husband. From experiencing injustice and questioning our purpose to walking through church disappointments, loneliness, and infertility. The Take Heart writers share from the depth of their hearts and experience so that you will know beyond a doubt that you are not alone and that you are (and always have been) loved.

Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay is full of reflections of God’s heart, sure to help anyone share a meaningful gift with a close loved one facing life’s challenges. Our prayer is that this collection of stories will become a place your soul can find a kindred, where you know that you have a place to belong just as you are.

This book is an offering of hope, from one heart to another — sister to sister, friend to friend. We can’t wait to help you take heart.

Get 5 devotions from Take Heart for FREE!

Welcome to the NEW (in)courage Living Room!

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We’ve been waiting for and working toward this day for more than two years — the day we would get to swing wide our virtual doors and welcome you to our new online living room. We wanted to create a fresh home where women can gather in a beautiful, comfortable space to connect deeply with God and others. And the day is finally here! Welcome to the new (in)courage Living Room!

Launching a new website isn’t just about an updated design; it’s about making our visual representation match the heartbeat of (in)courage.

Whether you’ve been part of the (in) sisterhood since its inception in 2009 or you just found us today, we want you to know that (in)courage is a place for authentic, brave women just like you. Through the power of shared stories and meaningful resources, we lean into the strength Jesus gives to live out our calling as God’s daughters. Together, we build community, celebrate diversity, and become women of courage.

And we’re so glad YOU are here! We don’t take one woman, one visitor, or long-time friend for granted.

Welcoming you to our new online home is the perfect time to invite you to get to know us a little more through our three core values: community, diversity, and courage.

Community: There’s a spot for you in the living room.

We believe in piling together on the couch, lounging in comfy chairs, sprawling out on the floor, and creating a big ol’ comfy circle of sisters who are always ready to shift and smoosh together to make space for more. In our living room, you can come just the way you are. We link arms as God’s daughters and champion those who are willing to give voice to our unspoken struggles. We grapple together over issues we can’t easily solve. We lean on one another for wisdom, strength, and insight beyond our own experience.

Community means we bend low, listen long, offer what we have, mourn, celebrate, ask forgiveness, and extend grace upon grace. We gather to speak hope over broken hearts and infuse purpose and courage into the gloriously ordinary every day. We share our unique stories – joys and struggles equally fleshed out – for the purpose of pointing others to the eternal hope of Jesus Christ. This is what it means to be (in) community. We’re always better when we make time to gather in the living room together.

Diversity: We are many voices, stories, and skin tones with one heart for Jesus.

We desire to become a more complete representation of the kingdom of God and foster unity in the body of Christ. We embrace the unique gifting and diverse experiences of different women. We desire readers of varied backgrounds, ages, and life stages to come to (in)courage and hear reflections of their own stories. We also want women to learn from stories unlike their own in order to grow in compassion, understanding, and unity as God’s daughters.

There are currently twenty-four women who write regularly for (in)courage, spanning five decades and representing all different backgrounds, ethnicities, and geographic locations. We celebrate our diversity by sharing what Jesus looks like in our beautiful, mundane, and often messy lives.

Courage: We can become brave together.

Like Shiphrah and Puah from the Bible, we are ordinary women with an extraordinary opportunity to make this one life we’ve been given count. Not that we’re striving for some big moment, but we’re faithfully striding (or stumbling) along, day by day, moment by moment, in step with Jesus so that when He asks us to go, move, leap, we will have the courage to do so. Courage comes from knowing His voice and trusting His heart. We can have courage because we step forward together as God’s beloved daughters.

So that’s who we are and what you’ll find here at (in)courage!

We wish there was a way to hand you fancy sparkling water and spread out a virtual charcuterie board so we all could enjoy this “open house” together. Nevertheless, we invite you to spend some time looking around our new online home.

As you explore, you’ll notice lots of new things, like a fresh color scheme, black and white photos, open space, and lots of resources for encouragement and connection. Every word and color, image and detail was designed to celebrate our three core values while pointing our hearts and minds to Christ. Every decision was layered with meaning. For example, each color in our beautiful pallet is assigned to a specific moment in the life of Christ. So when we use colors like Desert, Midnight, Mustard, and Myrrh, we’re thinking about those moments in Jesus’s life. It’s a behind-the-scenes detail packed full of intention and purpose.

That’s what we really want you to know. (in)courage exists on purpose for a purpose. Every word and image is written and designed with you in mind. We’ve got tons of super exciting new things to share with you in the months ahead! So keep checking back, follow us on social, and subscribe to our daily emails so you don’t miss a thing!

And sister, know that you are welcome here in our living room — always.

We hope you find love and beauty in every nook and cranny. We pray this is a place you will come to discover the power of building community, celebrating diversity, and becoming a woman of courage.

Celebrate with us! Tell us your favorite thing about the new site
or why you love (in)courage.