How We Are All Called to Be Bridge Builders

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.

What I Know for Sure in the Midst of Many Unknowns

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I told my son that shelter-in-place would last four weeks back in March. “This is just temporary — to help flatten the curve.”

Now, a new school year is beginning, but Josh’s first day in high school and Caleb’s first day in middle school will happen behind a screen through distance learning. The COVID cases where we live in California rank the highest in the country, and it’s still climbing.

When civil unrest exploded with the news of George Floyd’s murder and violence broke out across our country, I told my sons, “People are angry. They’re hurting.”

Overwhelmed by it all, my son exclaimed, “The world’s falling apart! People are dying, and injustice and violence are everywhere. What will happen to us?!”

I looked at his fear-stricken face, eyebrows contorted with worry and anxiety. His brother, sitting next to him, waited for my response too.

What should I tell him? I looked out the window and whispered a breath prayer, God, illuminate my heart.

I replied to him, “Son, I know you feel afraid. I feel afraid sometimes too. It’s very normal. We’re all facing something no one in our generation has ever encountered. When we feel overwhelmed by what we don’t know, it is important to tell yourself the things you know for sure. These are truths that will keep you secure, grounded.”

I went on to tell him that there is a lot I don’t know, but I can say with 100% confidence that this is what I know:

1. We are people of faith and purpose, not panic. God loves us and always takes care of His people.

So many Christians throughout history have faced danger, death, imprisonment, starvation, and evil. The ones who rose to the challenge of their times were the ones who remembered who they were and where they were going.

God has a purpose for us to be alive at this time. We can also rise to the challenge of our generation — whether we are frontline workers, teachers, scientists, or simply neighbors focused on how to help and comfort others.

God also never forgets us in our suffering. He gives us family, friends, books, creativity, nature, and many other beautiful gifts to help us get through hard times. For every hardship, I’ve found God always provides small ways to release our stress. He uses these things to give us peace, joy, comfort, and encouragement for ourselves and for us to offer it to others who are suffering too.

2. We can choose goodness, even in the midst of evil. I think about the many wars that have been fought and how evil can feel overwhelming. There has been so much death and suffering, and yet some of the most powerful stories came from the survivors who lived on to tell their stories and live life fully. What will our story be during and after this pandemic? What stories will we go on to tell in the future?

As we fight our own war on this pandemic, let’s focus on the good we can do. Perhaps, one day, we’ll tell a story to our children’s children, just like people who survived through wars told theirs, and they’ll be able to see that good could always be found in the midst of evil.

3. This world is a place we’re simply traveling through. Remember that we are ambassadors for Christ. Just as some ambassadors get assignments in countries that may not be the safest, we also need to remember whose we are and where our home really is. This world is not our final destination because heaven is our true home. We just need to do our best while we are on assignment on earth, to help the people we meet here, and to represent our loving Savior well — so well that people will long to go where we will one day go as God’s people!

During this season of sheltering-in-place, it’s the perfect time to plant and nurture seeds of kindness, gentleness, love, joy, and peace and to develop who we will be when things settle into some sort of new normal.

4. You are salt and light! This is your time to shine. When this pandemic is over and a vaccination is discovered (and it will), the fruit of the Spirit we’ve nurtured during this time will blossom, and others will be able to see it. They will be blessed by your presence and friendship because of the light you shine.

5. This too will pass. Though it seems like there is no end to this time, it will one day end. So as we wait, we must grow strong in our faith — to learn to endure. We need to lean on the truths of the Bible, be in prayer, and share our worries with others because we are not alone.

God loves us — that hasn’t changed and this I know for sure.

I have loved you with an everlasting love.
Jeremiah 31:3 (NIV)

What are the truths that keep you grounded in faith?

 

For more truths to stay grounded in your faith, sign up for my Beloved Newsletter (here). To encourage your heart, listen to my podcast Lift the Burden of Anxiety & Busy, featuring Holley Gerth (here)!  Join the newsletter here.

When Words Whisper Lies, We Write

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It was the last period of the day, and I spent it mouthing the words of Mozart’s Requiem in D minor and staring out of the window while my chorus class sang, “Lacrimosa dies illa, Qua resurget ex favilla.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from filling up my eyes.

Those were the days when silence had become my song. I was sick, my rheumatologist told me, with an autoimmune disease triggered by my body attacking its own beloved self. Rheumatic fever, he called it — a rare complication of arthritis that comes from untreated strep throat.

As I sat there in chorus that day, surrounded by the sound of sopranos singing sorrow-filled songs written for dead souls, I couldn’t help but feel lifeless myself.

My endless bout with strep throat not only wreaked irrevocable havoc in my body, but it also weakened my voice which, for me, felt worse than the surging warmth that swelled within my aching wrists, hands, and knees.

Singing was the one dream that I clutched onto and held close. And it felt like God had taken it away — like He had ripped it right out of my reach, clawed it carelessly out of my hollow, Hollywood-hungry hands.

That was when it all began. That was when the words began to whisper — words that filled my head with lies, words that welcomed dark thoughts without light.

Your life is nothing, the words whispered. You’ll go nowhere. You are no one.

The words weighed heavy, pumping worry and wreckage through blood and bone. They washed me over with weariness, won my thoughts over until I believed I was a worthless mess.

Every vowel and syllable vexed me, until I vowed only to listen to the voice of truth.

Though these lying words whirled inside, I learned to listen to another echo of words that whispered within me. I learned to listen to the words that beckoned me instead of beat me down, words that with spoke reassurance to my weariness, words that breathed life into my brokenness.

At the sound of God’s words, I began to pour out my own.

Everything I felt and thought, every place in my heart that held tight to hopelessness and hurt. I took the words that whispered within me and pressed my finger pads to the piano to write songs. I wrote poems that read like prayers, and I raged through journals of empty pages.

The more I wrote, the more the whispering lies fell silent. The more the lies fell silent, the more I heard the heart of God. His words unraveled what had been entangled inside me.

And isn’t that always the way of God? That He would heal us as we hold our hearts out to Him?

Relief comes as we release our ruin to the God who restores. Hope comes as we hand our hurts to the God who hears. We arise as warriors as we write our way through the wounds that once wrecked us.

That’s why when words whisper lies, we write. In writing, we are given a safe and sure way to work ourselves away from listening to the lies and leaning into the Light.

With hands that scribble and script, we set our souls in the hands of a Savior that sees and redeems every tear we cry, every war we fight. We trust a Father whose love and care for us is so divinely and deeply sweet, that being with Him easily becomes our best dream — the one and only thing we come to really want and need.

So pen the poems that profess His promises, type up ink-less Instagram posts that point to His power. Let’s draw near to God on the page as much as we do through spoken prayer.

Let’s turn to hear and know His voice as we turn away from the voices of all others. May everything that we write — every swoop turned letter turned word turned work of art — always be for His glory, for the telling of His story.

Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.
Psalm 62:5-8 (NIV)

 

How does writing help you lessen the loud sound of lies? Does it help you better hear God’s heart for you and this world? I’d love to hear your heart on what writing means to you!

On Fear As We Go Back to School

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Next week, my kids will go back to school.

I will have a third grader, a first grader, and a preschooler. Also coming later in September, a newborn. I’m not sure how my “big kids” got so big so fast (weren’t they just little babies last week?!), and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it — about going back to school in general. This year looks so entirely different than any schooling I’ve ever known. Our family will be participating in distance learning. We’ll be guiding the kids through lessons in our one-room-schoolhouse on the screened porch. If things settle down with COVID, we may be back in the school classroom someday, but for now, all we know is uncertainty.

If I’m really honest, my biggest emotion is fear. In our home learning setting, I fear that I will get everything wrong, that I won’t keep my cool or be able to dig deep for patience, that my kids will struggle and be lonely and fall behind. In a school classroom setting, I fear that when I drop my kids off in the morning, they won’t come home in the afternoon.

Schools aren’t always a safe place anymore. The news of shootings in places we formerly thought of as “safe” haunts me. Movie theaters. Malls. Churches. Concerts. Elementary schools. Classrooms.

Classrooms.

Many of us feel unsafe in public spaces today, and possibly for different reasons. Masks and temperature screenings and an invisible virus raging remind us swiftly. Many of these “safe spaces” are still closed, restricted, or off limits. And with the additional stress and fear of COVID-19, my heart continues its push and pull with both the daily curiosity and avoidance of the news.

Part of my emotion is fueled by my own anxiety. Most of it is fueled by actual happenings in the world, in our country, in our state, in our backyards. All of it is fueled by fear.

Fear displaces almost every other emotion. It kicks out joy, and it steamrolls peace. It takes up the space where trust should reside. Fear leaves a bitter taste in what could otherwise be sweet situations and circumstances. Fear swallows me when I give it space. I think I’m giving it an inch, and it unfolds into a mile.

The only way I can even begin to combat fear is to focus in sharply on God and His response to others who have trusted Him in spite of their fear.

Gideon was one such fearful person. Throughout his story in Judges 6, we see God’s patience and care for His fearful servant. God calls Gideon to deliver Israel from the grasp of wayward Midian, and right away Gideon asks God a zillion scared questions. I love the “But what about . . .” excuses he lamely throws out. Gideon asks God for proof. He asks God to choose someone else. He gets all panicky and flail-y in his fear. Then, he gets the job done. And the whole time, the Lord reassures Gideon. He tells Gideon that he is a warrior, that God will be with him, that Gideon will succeed. God doesn’t rush Gideon through his fear; rather, He gives Gideon what he needs to overcome it. At some points in the story (like here, when God reduces Gideons’ troops to mere numbers), God does push Gideon forward, and reluctantly, Gideon trusts and presses on.

There are dozens of stories about fellow fear overcomers throughout the Bible: Jonah, Sarah, Abraham, Esther, Daniel, Moses — people afraid of what or where they were called to be.

Friends, we are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses who have gone before us, who have trusted in the One who crushes fear. It bolsters my fearful heart to bring their stories to mind and to tuck into my heart God’s response of patience and love. He doesn’t make them feel silly about or a slave to their fear, but He offers His strength and peace, placing His great hand on their backs and gently pushing them forward.

Which is just what I need.

For me, being a woman of courage looks like believing in and leaning on the God who demolishes fear. It looks like sending my kids to school, wherever that may be. It looks like believing with all my strength that God stands with us and He stands with our kids. It looks like remembering that God goes first, especially into the unknown. God goes before. He’s ready and waiting for our kids.

They do not walk through any doors alone, and neither do we.

The only One who can accompany our kids and provide everything they need is standing by them already. With our love tucked in their hearts and God by their sides, we have done all that we can do to prepare them for school.

We’ll hold their hands while walking into a big brick building, while leading them to the homeschool table, while walking them into their dorm.

We hold their hands, and God will hold them close.

A Prayer for Back-to-School

Lord, may I put my trust in You, knowing You go before us as we begin school. Pave the way, Lord, that we may see You in each and every turn. Help my kids to work hard, to have a mind open and ready for the kind of learning that goes far beyond reading and writing. Keep my love tucked deep into their hearts. Help them to be brave and kind, whether at home or at school, and Lord, help their mom be the same. Amen.

Knowing How to Discern in Uncertain Times

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Therefore, brothers and sisters, in view of the mercies of God, I urge you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God; this is your true worship. Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God.
Romans 12:1-2 (CSB)

We’re more than halfway through 2020, transitioning into the school year and most likely spending the rest of year sheltering-at-home. The continued waves of grief and loss and constant adjusting has worn us down, and yet we must continue on. We don’t have a choice but to take in new information on an almost daily basis because we’re figuring out life as we go. It can feel like a fire hydrant of information is being spewed at us, and sometimes it can feel too much to process.

It’s difficult to discern what is true, what is real, what is most urgent, or what we need to plan long-term when everyone has an opinion and a reason for doing something. More than ever, we need God’s wisdom to make our way through this time. When everything around us gets too loud, let’s not lean on the latest news report or tweet or the already digested spiritual truth from another. Instead, let’s go to the Word of God first and have our minds renewed by the truths and promises of God. Let’s trust that the Holy Spirit will guide us and teach us to live as Jesus did — loving our neighbor (Luke 10:25-37), considering others above ourselves (Philippians 2:3-4), and even being righteously angry at injustice (Matthew 21:12-13).

God, keep us grounded when we don’t know who or what to trust anymore. Renew our minds by Your Word and give us wisdom to discern the next right thing we need to do. Amen. 

The Profound Gift of Grieving in Front of Our Children

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My children hate seeing me sad or mad. They want me to be happy, to smile. They need to know that I’m okay, because if I’m okay, their world is okay.

But what about the times it isn’t okay? What happens when the walls cave in and the heart explodes and ache can’t be hidden? What then? How do I grieve in front of my children without putting it on them?

Sometimes we carry our own childhood fears and experiences into our parenting without realizing it, and other times we are quite aware of it and we make vows to protect ourselves and our children. We believe we’re protecting them, but perhaps it’s possible we’re avoiding the opportunity to teach them about pain and grief and how to express it all. We need to teach our kids how to be human, how to feel and process and not hide, how to be naked and unashamed in our grief.

There’s wisdom in being aware and not laying our heavy burdens on little hearts that are not ready, but I think it’s good and helpful and kind to let our children see our humanity and our grief and how to deal with it in healthy ways.

After my mother died, I decided to let my children in on my grief.

I sat my children down and explained to them that I was sad about Grandma Suzy and that at times they were going to see me cry. I told them I was okay, that it was normal to be sad, and that they didn’t have to worry about me or be afraid. I told them that showing sadness was nothing to be ashamed of. I then hugged each of my kiddos and told them how very much I loved them.

And then, when the grief hit randomly, I cried. I didn’t hide from them. I wanted them to see the reality of grief so that one day, when they grieve, they would know it’s not shameful or ugly or something to hide or run from. They would know it’s a part of life, of the human experience, of sin and death in this world and also of the hope that one day there will be no more grieving or death, no tears or broken hearts. I wanted them to know it’s okay to feel when they need to feel, cry when they need to cry, and scream into their pillow when the pain is too great and their whole body might explode from the fire of it all.

They can’t learn how to do that if I hide it from them.

One thing I didn’t anticipate in my grieving was the blessing of comfort my children would give me. My youngest daughter, who was seven at the time of my mom’s death, felt with me. One afternoon, during that first week of grieving, I was going through pictures of my mom, and I started crying. My sweet little girl, who knew this was okay and normal and not going to last forever, held a little fabric angel in her hands that hospice had given me. She was looking at it and at me, and she began to cry gently. She was feeling my ache. She came over, sat on my lap, and hugged me. We cried together, weeping over the loss of Grandma Susy. Did my girl feel her own pain at the loss of her grandma? I’m sure she did, but she didn’t really know my mom since she was only a toddler when my mom had moved away. But she felt grieved anyway, and it was so dear.

Afterwards, we wiped our eyes, kissed, and carried on. We were okay together.

The gift of a child’s comfort, I am convinced, is straight from the heart of God, their little arms showing us His arms. The comfort of a child is both overwhelming and healing.

This is the gift of grief: healing comfort is experienced through the tender intimacy of shared vulnerability. And to experience this gift with your child is nothing short of precious and a rare grace.

All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 (NLT)

This post was originally written by (in)courage alum Sarah Mae in September 2019. 

What to Do with Indecision Paralysis

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By the time you read this, I will have already made a decision. But right now, I’m smack dab in the middle of uncertainty. Uncertainty is not my favorite place to be.

What’s plaguing me right now is the decision I must make about my children’s education for the impending school year. Here in California, all schools are mandated to start online this fall. I can choose to enroll my three kids in conventional public school, as we’ve always done, with the hope that distance learning will be a short-lived experience and eventually students will be back in the classroom. Our district is also offering an online-only independent study option where students can learn at their own pace with a one-year commitment. Or I could choose to homeschool my children in the traditional sense and be responsible for choosing their curriculum and guiding all their learning.

I’m like a weary traveler who has come to a three-pronged fork in the road with no map or compass to confirm which way I should go. From what I can see, each path has some bright spots as well as rocky terrain. All are partially shrouded in indecipherable shadows.

I feel stranded, abandoned, unprepared to take a step forward in any direction.

Indecision paralysis has its grip on me. My anxiety rises with each passing minute.

As my eyes dart from one path to the next, the questions in my mind swirl with increasing intensity. What if I can’t juggle work and meeting my children’s needs? What if I make the wrong decision? What if I change my mind? What if I’m stuck and can’t turn back? What if it’s a disaster? What if I fail?

I pile all the pros and cons and what-if’s into a mountain of anxious uncertainty. My clarity is obstructed like a fog that won’t lift.

Have you been there, friend? Are you stuck in the muck of uncertainty today?

Maybe you’re a parent like me and you’re trying to discern what’s best for your kids in the face of an ongoing, ever-changing, unprecedented pandemic. Or maybe your brand of uncertainty is totally different. Maybe you’re at a crossroads in your career or a relationship. Maybe you’re trying to decide whether to go back to school or spend the rest of your savings on another round of IVF or whether to have that uncomfortable conversation about race again.

I don’t know what’s making your brow furrow and stomach knot up in indecision, but I do know this: When we’re faced with uncertainty, our only certain choice is to turn to Jesus.

It’s natural that I would feel the weight of deciding how my three sons will be educated for the upcoming school year. It’s a decision that will have heavy implications for each of them personally and for our family. It’s okay to feel uncertain and stressed.

Where I’ve missed the mark is in believing that I’m alone in making whatever decision I face. I feel like it’s all up to me! (Do you ever feel that way too?) Like the world hinges on my ability to synthesize and analyze incomplete information, perfectly fill in the blanks and accurately predict the future. I’m so afraid of making a mistake.

But nowhere in God’s Word does it say the world — or motherhood or marriage or ministry or next Tuesday — hinges on my ability, or on yours. Nowhere does Scripture say, Though shalt make every decision perfectly and never make a mistake. Because that’s not God’s heart for us.

So what does Scripture say?

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

God will guide you. “He guides the humble in what is right and teaches them his way” (Psalm 25:9 NIV).

God gives wisdom. “If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you. He will not rebuke you for asking” (James 1:5 NLT).

Need more assurance that these things are true? Read Psalm 139. Read it every day this week. Read it on your Bible App in different translations. Then be honest with God about where you are. Tell Him what your personal fork in the road looks like. Tell Him if you feel alone or scared, lost or mad or overwhelmed.

Then rehearse the truth: “Even there your hand will lead me; your right hand will hold on to me” (Psalm 139:10 CSB).

In this moment, I still haven’t decided what to do about the school year. But this I know: God will give me wisdom when I ask. God is with me, and He will guide me no matter what the path looks like.

I’m not alone. He’s right here.

He’s right there with you too.

For more reminders that God is with you in the thick of it, sign up for Becky’s monthly newsletter.

When Rest Feels like Work

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I sat on the edge of the dock with my legs dangling off. My feet were flat upon the water as though I could step out on the lake at any moment. The space was calm. A slight breeze swayed the tree branches. The children found playmates with the pebbles, mud castles, and fish freshly caught. I sat there cupped in God’s nature with my heart racing. I was unable to be as calm as the water. After three days of being at the lake, I still didn’t know how to rest. For some, rest comes easy; for me, it feels like work. 

I am good at being productive. I am good at being busy. I like the pressure and clock ticking and deadlines. Those powers energize me. I like using my imagination and managing people. But being here, at the family lake house makes me antsy. There is no place to be and nothing I have to do. I almost feel naked. I don’t know what to do when I have nothing to do. My body, mind, and soul need rest — I know this. But I fight rest with everything in me. Rest means wrestling with the deeper things I have been avoiding. When everything on the outside of me gets quiet then everything on the inside of me gets loud. It’s unsettling, and I want to run out on the water where my feet find ease. I want to run away from me.

I’ve taken the role as the “fishing supervisor” this vacation so I can spend a bit more time lounging and messing with the best online gambling sites in Texas on my tablet, and the children repeatedly bring me their tangled fishing wire. Which means this task requires focus, patience, and gentleness. While fishing with children there are three things you won’t find: focus, patience, and gentleness. I send them off while I give all my attention to the massive knot they have managed to whip together. I’m tempted to yank and pull and throw the whole bundle of chaos away. But I wait. I slowly tug and massage the tangles apart. An unraveling begins. It doesn’t happen all at once. It is a process. If I get frustrated, the knot gets worse. If I take my time and use careful intention, the knot loosens.

As I slowly pull at the corner of the wire, I wonder if this is what God is doing within me. He is using focus, patience, and gentleness to undo the knots that have built up in me. Maybe that’s what rest is about. I’m coming back to God with my mess, and He uses love to untangle me. This renewing of my soul requires that I also practice focus, patience, and gentleness. If I fight back, more damage is done. But if I stay and allow God to care for my soul, my insides will loosen. I will be soft. God, in a literal sense, is a fisher of (wo)men. He doesn’t just catch lost souls, but He has compassion upon them and wants them to be free—untangled. For my soul to become untangled, I have to stop. I have to exhale. I have to rest. 

Resting doesn’t come easy for me. I have to work at rest. I have to be okay feeling antsy and anxious just sitting at the edge of the dock. I have to feel the mess I have been avoiding. I have to look at the chaos and tangles and knots choking my chest tight. I have to let the outside beauty penetrate my inner storm. And God does this. He does this by gently untangling me one tug at a time. This time, instead of running, being busy, or avoiding, I stay. I let God do His work on my soul. 

I want a lot of things in life, but one thing I desperately want is to be free inside. I don’t want hooks and wires mangled up inside of me, making it hard to breathe. I want to be fully present with the world, others, and God. The only way to be productive at anything is to learn how to rest — truly rest. At first, it might be painful. I’ll want to squirm and find something else to do. But when I give God space to tend to my soul, a beautiful freedom awaits me.

I need God’s help to rest. I need His grace to hold me as effortlessly as that dock. I am rocked and carried. God’s presence hovers over me like the trees bringing me shade. I need grace to not accomplish something. I need grace to let the tugging make me uncomfortable. I need grace to sustain me when rest feels like work. The truth is, rest is work. God is doing healing work inside of me. He is untangling and setting me free.

An Act of Courageous Influence

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When Pharaoh’s horses with his chariots and horsemen went into the sea, the Lord brought the water of the sea back over them. But the Israelites walked through the sea on dry ground. Then the prophetess Miriam, Aaron’s sister, took a tambourine in her hand, and all the women came out following her with tambourines and dancing. Miriam sang to them:

Sing to the Lord, for he is highly exalted;
he has thrown the horse and its rider into the sea.

Then Moses led Israel on from the Red Sea, and they went out to the Wilderness of Shur. They journeyed for three days in the wilderness without finding water. They came to Marah, but they could not drink the water at Marah because it was bitter — that is why it was named Marah.

The people grumbled to Moses, “What are we going to drink?” So he cried out to the Lord, and the Lord showed him a tree. When he threw it into the water, the water became drinkable.

The Lord made a statute and ordinance for them at Marah, and he tested them there. He said, “If you will carefully obey the Lord your God, do what is right in his sight, pay attention to his commands, and keep all his statutes, I will not inflict any illnesses on you that I inflicted on the Egyptians. For I am the Lord who heals you.”

Then they came to Elim, where there were twelve springs and seventy date palms, and they camped there by the water.
Exodus 15:19-27 (CSB)

Miriam and the rest of the Israelites had already endured so much when they experienced the plagues of Egypt. God saved them from destruction and then from the wrath of the Egyptians at the Red Sea. But instead of pressing on through the desert the moment they crossed the sea, the Israelites stopped to praise the Lord for what He had done for them. Moses, Miriam’s brother, sang a song of praise. Then Miriam picked up a tambourine and led all the women of Israel in dancing and singing.

In that moment when the waters rushed back together, covering the Egyptians and saving the Israelites, only God knew that this was just the beginning of their journey. Moses, Aaron, and Miriam were following God’s leading one day at a time; they had no idea how long they’d be wandering in the desert, seeking God and His promised land. But without realizing that their choices on that day could set a standard for years to come, Moses and Miriam chose to stop their journey and thank God for all He’d done so far. They chose to worship right away, not waiting for a more convenient time or a more comfortable place. They showed the Israelites by their example that worship and gratitude was a priority.

Overwhelmed with thanksgiving and perhaps inspired by her brother’s worship, Miriam led the women, praising God and singing, “Sing to the Lord, for he is highly exalted.” She refused to let the moment pass without praising God for what He had done. His work was magnificent and deserved praise. And by stopping to praise God, Miriam created a precedent in Israel and a lasting memory for the people. When they faced difficulty and doubt in the future, they would be able to look back on that day, remember what God had done, and trust His faithfulness.

Any doubt about the importance of putting worship first was erased just a few days later. Faced with great thirst from walking through the desert and water that wasn’t fit to drink, the Israelites began to complain. How quickly we forget! The Lord had just rescued them from a vicious king who’d enslaved them for years. He had just split open the sea to give them safe passage and then swallowed up the army that followed to capture them. And in the span of less than a week, the Israelites went from thanking God for His provision to whining about their thirst.

Rather than despair of how quick the Israelites were to change their tune at the first new sign of trouble, we can learn from Miriam’s forethought and intentional gratitude. She may not have known how many years of struggle they would face, but she knew they were walking into the wilderness. She probably knew that short or lengthy, their journey would be a hard one and the Israelites would need an anchor to help them recover their thankfulness for God’s faithful work in their lives. What better way to help them remember than a celebration of God’s goodness, complete with singing and dancing and praising Him for what He had done until now?

When our days are full and our lives are busy, it can be easy to move quickly from one challenge to the next. After all, at times it feels like as soon as one problem is solved, another one pops up. Who has time to pause and reflect, to stop and pray? We do.

No matter what trials God has taken us through, we cannot deny His hand in our rescue. We cannot ignore that regardless of our own efforts, we would still be fighting and running and panicking if He hadn’t come through with a supernatural solution. And when He does step in and intervene for us, our next step can only be praising Him! When we recognize His provision and His great love for us, we must express our gratitude. If we wait, instead, for a more convenient time or a more comfortable place, we might never get around to it. And if we don’t make a habit of thanking God for His work in our lives, we might just end up like the Israelites, whining about bitter water and wandering the wilderness for decades.

Let’s be intentional with our gratitude and lead others to praise God with us.

This was originally written by Mary Carver for Women of Courage: a Forty-Day Devotional and has been edited for today’s post.

Never Alone Even When I Am Alone

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I stared at the computer screen, blinking back tears as my eyes took in the images of my daughter proudly showing off the tooth she had lost that day. I wanted to reach my arms through the screen, hug my girl tight, and tell her how excited I was. But I couldn’t. Instead, I sat in the small computer lab housed in the wing of the mental hospital where I was an inpatient for the first time and felt waves of hopelessness and despair wash over me.

Depression had led me to this place — dark thoughts having run away with all reason and logic — and I knew I needed to be here to be safe. But that did not change the fact that I knew what I was missing at home. At night when I was alone in my bed in the psych ward, I would think about my girls and worry that I was ruining them for life by being gone and being ill. I worried that I would never be able to be the mom I thought I should be. How could I, when I was barely hanging on to life itself?

I thought of all the moments I was missing. My two-year-old was adding new words to her vocabulary all the time, and my eight-year-old was deep in the thick of third grade, learning and growing and losing precious teeth without me. Though hope was low and my fears were high, I prayed and begged the Lord to take care of my girls. While in the midst of my despair, I felt foolish hoping that God could redeem the time that I was missing. I pleaded with Him to work in my oldest daughter Charlotte’s heart especially. She was a fairly new follower of Christ, and I didn’t want my time away to be something that damaged her faith. There are so many challenges with becoming a young woman of God, and my heart ached with the thought that I was making it even harder for her.

The second time I was discharged from a psychiatric hospital, I knew it wasn’t the end of my journey. The therapist I met with daily told me I needed further treatment and recommended I look into residential programs, something I didn’t even realize existed. After doing some research I knew that residential treatment could be beneficial, but once again my thoughts turned toward my family. I had already been gone on two separate occasions, and now I was looking at spending an entire month away. After my husband and I decided that I would go, I still felt the weight of my decision hanging over my family and wrestled with whether or not I was doing the right thing. In the end, I did the only thing I knew to do: pray and trust that the Lord was guiding my steps.

The weekend before I was scheduled to leave for the residential facility, I was putting away clothes in Charlotte’s room when I saw the note she had pinned to her memo board. There in her neat, school-girl script were these words: “Mom has depression, but I will praise the Lord.” Tears immediately sprung to my eyes, and I gave thanks to God for giving me this glimpse into my girl’s heart. Not only was the Lord shepherding my heart through this difficult journey of depression, but He was also shepherding Charlotte’s heart. He was helping her to see that sometimes the truest expression of praise comes from a heart that has felt deep hurt and lived to see the goodness of the Lord in the midst of the struggle. He was helping her to see that though we can’t always choose our circumstances, we can choose our response to those circumstances. A heart that loves Him is a heart that praises Him through it all.

At that moment I realized that while my depression was a sad and difficult road to walk, I didn’t walk it alone, and neither did my daughter. Indeed, we were both being carried by our Savior, and He was using each step on the path to make us more like Him. I didn’t need to worry about what would happen to my girls while I was away. Even though I knew my love for my daughters was imperfect, Christ’s perfect love more than made up for what I lacked. When I couldn’t be there for them, I knew God always would be. God’s Word promises that “whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty,” (Psalm 91:1 ESV)  and that we will find refuge under His wings. I can think of no better place to be than in His everlasting arms.

When You Don’t Feel Brave, Choose to Have Courage

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I’m sure you’re like me, dealing with some very tough, never-did-you-think decisions and feelings lately. I realize we all live in tumultuous times wondering what the future holds. 

I’m preparing to make a tricky decision for my daughter’s next school year. I am wondering what my calling will look like this fall, and I’m praying for a friend to get a job after a layoff. I have loved ones dealing with depression. I know friends living in cities that are locked down or are burning with protest. I’m concerned for families with compromised immune systems, and for my own family not to get the virus. I have friends who experience racism because of the color of their skin, who are afraid for their children in ways I can’t imagine. I can quickly be overwhelmed by the news and the upcoming election. Sometimes I feel anxious about doing normal activities like going to the grocery store and gathering with friends I miss.

I sense the Holy Spirit reminding me that worry and fear are nothing new. But in these trying times while living everyday life, I must make a choice — I must choose to live courageously.

Doing so can be difficult, and it won’t always come naturally or look the same for everyone. But as Joshua 1:9 says, we must each decide to be strong and courageous because the Lord is with us wherever we go.

Being courageous means to choose it, to live it on purpose, to want it more than what we feel or think. But it’s impossible to be brave without God. Just like forgiving others is first a choice, we must decide to trust God to make us courageous. Then, our feelings and our actions will sync up at some point with that commitment.

Courage is defined as “strength in the midst of pain or grief.” It is needed in small tasks others may never see, or in doing the next thing we are called to do that might be big and visible to many. When life gets frustrating because it’s not what we expected, when we are hit with one thing after another, when we don’t know if we have enough wisdom or strength to make the right decisions for today, much less plan effectively for tomorrow, we need to choose to be courageous.

God doesn’t tell us to be strong and courageous today to make tomorrow easier. He tells us to do so because He knows we will need it in our lives. But courage doesn’t come from mustering up something inside of us; it comes from His promise to be with us wherever we go, whatever comes our way, no matter how we feel or what others might do.

When God shared those words with Joshua for the first time, it was the beginning of a new normal too. There was a change in leadership and a new generation rising up to follow God. They faced a very real enemy and were on the verge of seeing God come through on His long awaited promises.

God instructed Joshua to have courage, not just for himself but also for those he was leading. Similarly, God empowers others in the Bible to be strong and courageous so they can lead well too:

Deborah led her people as a judge while her top military official wasn’t brave enough to do anything without her. She was confident God would protect her and give her courage so others could fight the enemy alongside her.

Esther didn’t have all the answers she needed and felt powerless in her position as queen. But with God’s courage, Esther became willing to risk her life to spare her people.

Hannah was barren, but she was brave enough to ask for what her heart really longed for. And when she received her son Samuel, she was courageously willing to offer him back to God.

Ruth was widowed and without a homeland to go back to. But she chose to be brave and follow her mother-in-law to a new land and start over. She trusted God would provide blessing and favor beyond what she could have hoped for.

Mary was young, but she had faith that God could do the impossible. Because of her courageous faith, she birthed the Messiah of the world.

All of these biblical examples are people like you and me who chose to have courage in both the big and small moments. They lived with the expectation that God would come through, and their courage impacted generations after them.

Being courageous is an act of faith. When we choose to believe and trust in God, He makes us courageous as we obey His Word.

So, let’s trust God with our strange today and our unknown tomorrows. Let’s choose to be courageous and be expectant that God will keep His promises in the big and small moments. Let’s remember we can do anything, even when we don’t feel like it or see a way through, because God is always with us.

When Church Is Not Bound by Four Walls

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Hallelujah!
Praise God in his sanctuary.
Praise him in his mighty expanse.
Praise him for his powerful acts;
praise him for his abundant greatness.
Praise him with trumpet blast;
praise him with harp and lyre.
Praise him with tambourine and dance;
praise him with strings and flute.
Praise him with resounding cymbals;
praise him with clashing cymbals.
Let everything that breathes praise the Lord.
Hallelujah!
Psalm 150 (CSB)

If church is defined as a “house of worship,” then I can’t think of a better house to worship God in than the mountains. I am awed by the grandeur of His handiwork and made small by His greatness. I believe we meet God best when our hearts are stilled, and we are humbled by His majesty and power.

I had church at the Maroon Bells of Colorado today.

Nature preached a sermon that echoed off rugged cliffs and into the valley below. “Grace upon grace,” murmured the bubbling streams that fed the still lake. “God with us,” whispered the shhhh-ing of the aspen leaves as the winds picked up their voices and scattered them upon the earth.

God with us. Grace.

Despite the turmoil of this world and the problems that seem unsolvable, God’s presence is still with us. His grace is still at work to draw us near and to let us hear and know and see the Almighty One. I believe that, but sometimes I forget it.

I’ve had church in many places: I’ve worshiped while washing dishes, I’ve met God at my mailbox, and my car is one of my favorite places to pray. Of course, gathering anywhere with other believers is church. I’ve had church in arenas with 10,000 people singing together. I’ve had church in the barn, where it smells like manure and hay and dust. I’ve experienced church in my living room, with an open Bible and a cup of coffee. Sometimes church comes when you can snatch a minute away from the busyness of regular life.

But the church I love best is in nature. It is here that I am face to face with the mystery — and mastery — of God Himself. Today, I sat in silence and watched the sunlight chase clouds over the mountain peaks and ignite the aspens with vivid color. There simply are no words that can capture the experience of it. I breathed in and closed my eyes and stilled my heart.

As I turned to leave, my eyes fell on a small piece of driftwood at the shore of the lake.

To my eyes, it looked exactly like a wing in flight. I tucked it in my pocket as a reminder of this moment in God’s magnificent sanctuary. Maybe angels above are singing, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just my heart that fluttered at this perfect little find. Maybe there is a message in it for me somewhere. I’m not one to go looking for signs.

But this I know: Grace upon grace, God is with us still. This, my friends, is church.

This message was written by Rachel Anne Ridge, as published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible and the Summer (in) the Psalms Devotional Journal.

Today’s post concludes our summer Bible reading series, and oh, was it a good one! We are so thankful to have journeyed with many of you through these weeks as we read forty Psalms together. If you missed a video conversation or want to walk through the Psalms yet yourself (there’s no rule that says you can’t do this study in the fall!), find all the details and videos right here.

If you journeyed through the Psalms this summer with us,
share one thing God showed you in the comments below!