A Beautiful Scar to Remind Me of My Daughterhood

A Beautiful Scar to Remind Me of My Daughterhood

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Do you have any scars? Most of us have at least one. Each scar tells a story. Take for instance this two-inch scar on my right hand.

“Everybody hustle so we can make it in time for church,” I called out to the empty hallway. Five kids tumbled out. As a newly single mom, hurrying my children seemed to be my chief occupation. Never mind the fifty-plus hours a week I spent as a senior book editor at a major publishing house. I longed to sleep in and rest. But worship together was a priority. We all needed it. So in the hallway upstairs I held one on my hip as I brushed hair and tied ribbons. Time to go. Again.

I vividly remember sliding my youngest down from my hip and onto the landing. She’d just learned to hold the railing to walk down rather than scooting on her hind end. She took my hand in hers. Then, as my foot hit that top stair, something happened. I slipped. Her little eyes grew wide as she let go. Feet-first I slid down, fast. I reached backward to slow my fall and felt bones pop.

At the bottom I bit back a scream. Or maybe I screamed. Who knows? I was struggling to stay conscious. My girls rushed down. “Are you okay, Mommy?” one asked. The seven-year-old asked if she could get me a cold Coke to help.

“No, Love. Just get my phone. Quick, like a bunny,” I begged. The last number I’d dialed was bestselling author Colleen Coble’s, in town for a book festival. We’d worked on so many books together we could finish each other’s sentences.

Colleen is famously great in a crisis.

She answered on the first ring, then raced over with her husband, Dave. They took me to the hospital while a neighbor stayed with the kids. What would I have done without Colleen? Honestly, I can’t imagine.

Long story short: two metal plates and twenty-six screws later, I was released from the hospital. The doctor said I’d need to take off two months from work.

Two. Whole. Months.

But how would I manage? I’d been barely holding it together with two good hands.

My sweet mom came from South Carolina to help. My girls slept on sleeping bags in my room to be close to me. When they awoke, Mom quietly shooed them out to feed them breakfast and drive them to daycare and school while I slept in. She changed my bandages, got prescriptions filled, made sure I ate. She chauffeured me to doctor appointments and physical therapy until I could drive again.

One day Mom looked up from spreading jam on yet another peanut butter sandwich and said, “You’ll be going back to work soon. What will you do differently so you don’t fall again?”

Mom had raised me to know my Bible. We both knew Proverbs 16:18 by heart: “Pride goes before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall.” A literal fall down some stairs made it clear that trying do too much on my own had nearly wrecked me. This fall was a grace. A time to reset. And it was time to make some changes.

More than change, I wanted something deeper. What was it Jesus had said? “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened. 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” (Matthew 11:28-29).

This rest Jesus promises here is more than a good night’s sleep—or even a two-month leave of absence from a job you love. Gospel-rest is a bone-deep infusion of peace — peace that comes from recognizing my daughterhood in Christ. By grace, I’m God’s own daughter. And God is way bigger than me. God is good. God is trustworthy. God is sovereign. There’s so much rest in this truth.

I’m not a mom of littles anymore. And these days I don’t parent alone. Four years ago, I married my soulmate — a man of exceptional character and strong faith who loves me so well. He supports, protects me, and he even slows me down when I hurry. My husband encouraged me to write, noting that I knew plenty about writing books. Why not write for myself? So I did. And I do.

Every time I hold a pen or reach for my keyboard, a two-inch scar reminds me of God’s faithfulness and my daughterhood. I rest in that.

Faithful Daughter: True, Inspiring Stories Celebrating a Mother’s Legacy and Love is about the mystifying, crazy-making relationships between mother and daughter. It includes thirty-plus essays by some amazing women, including New York Times bestsellers, a Poet Laureate, a psychologist, a celebrity chef, a former prostitute, a woman who runs an orphanage in Haiti, and more. Their heartfelt, sometimes raw, remembrances beckon us to lean in emotionally and reflect on our own lives.

In Faithful Daughter, we discover there’s hope for those of us who’ve survived even the most seriously messed up relationships.

 

GIVEAWAY!*

We are all daughters of God, and we want to give a copy of this new book away to FIVE of you! Leave a comment on this post telling us your favorite thing about being a daughter of God, and you’ll be entered to win one of our FIVE copies!

*Giveaway will close at 11:59pm CT on 5/29/2020. Open to US residents only. 

 

[bctt tweet=”Gospel-rest is a bone-deep infusion of peace — peace that comes from recognizing my daughterhood in Christ. #faithfuldaughterbook -Ami McConnell:” username=”incourage”]

I Don’t Know How to Lead Right Now

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“They will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the Lord.
Jeremiah 1:10 (NIV)

God calls Jeremiah to be a prophet during a time of upheaval in Israelite history. God says, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.” But Jeremiah is unsure of himself saying, “I do not know how to speak; I am too young.”

Isn’t this how so many of us feel right now as we lead our homes, our churches, our communities? As we try to facilitate important conversations at our tables and online or make decisions that impact others far and wide? As we try to explain to our children what’s happening and figure out how to best care of our aging parents and medically fragile family members?

In the midst of all those concerns, God says to us, “Do not be afraid; I am with you.”

So when what’s before us seems over our head, let’s hold on to this promise today: God is with me when I am afraid.

 

[bctt tweet=”When what’s before us seems over our head, let’s hold on to this promise today: God is with me when I am afraid. #promiseoverpanic” username=”incourage”]

Longing and Finding Mooluk

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There’s a word in Hindi called mooluk, which more or less translates to “home, sweet home.” It’s a word that means far more than just a place of belonging. When someone says, “I’ve found mooluk,” they say it with both joy and pride because they’ve not just found a place to rest, but a space where they can be their full cultural selves and feel understood and loved. I’ve longed for mooluk my whole life. But growing up, I lived without a community to call my own. I was the lone brown-skinned Indian girl in an all-white town. No one in my school, my church, or my neighborhood looked like me or lived life like me, and I felt that keenly.

To be completely honest, sometimes my existence in high school felt like one extended experience of humiliation. The boys in my class had a running joke about the way I looked. One time, as I sat down at a desk, a boy stood up and shouted, “Hey, look at Michelle! She’s so ugly.” Never in my life had I wanted to be more invisible than in that moment. I still remember the way all eyes turned to look at me and an immediate roar of laughter and pointing fingers erupted across the room. Another guy leaned over and said, “You know no one’s ever going to date you, right?” All I could do was hang my shoulders low and sink down as far as I could into my chair, hoping it would swallow me whole.

These were spaces that I would never feel at home. There was no room for a young, brown-skinned, Indian American girl to belong. I was the outsider and the misfit. And sadly, this reality was all I ever knew. I lived that way for so long, I didn’t think another reality was possible. For a long time I convinced myself that there was no place for me to fit in.

But praise be to God that has all changed recently. Thankfully, over the past decade, Christians of color have become more visible in our society. The phenomena of social media have allowed us to collectively raise our voices, center our experiences, and most importantly, find each other. The immediacy of spaces like Facebook and Twitter have helped me begin to connect with people both online and in person just like myself. I’ve discovered a whole world of people with bi-cultural identities, including fellow Asian American women, both in ministry and outside of it. They are people whom I can turn to and say, “You too?” and immediately we know. We know each other’s experiences, pains, and wounds because we’ve had them ourselves. We can walk that journey of healing and restoration together, and even laugh along the way, because that’s what’s possible when you have friends who see you and value you just for who you are.

We are living in strange times right now. In the midst of COVID-19 and quarantine, Asian Americans like myself are also navigating the contagion of racism. Many of us have been insulted, shouted at, spit on, and worse. My personal experiences and those that I’ve witnessed taking place in the Asian community are all triggering the experiences I had growing up. I know all too well what it’s like for someone to point at you and see that look in their eye that screams other. This kind of vitriolic hate and abuse against people of color like myself is what makes me not always feel at home in my country. But in the midst of all this, God in His mercy has also gathered a collective Asian American community for me to journey this difficult road together.

Recently, I attended the Someday Is Here live event in Los Angeles, and I said to myself, “I’ve found mooluk.” It was in that communal space that I experienced for the first time the joy of feeling understood, known, and wanted without having to explain myself. I felt my body relax and my spirit at ease. In that space, I could laugh and be myself and not think twice about every word coming out of my mouth. That is mooluk. It’s what I’ve found with these Asian American women across the country, and I praise God that He’s finally brought me to a place where I can feel like I belong with all of me, and I can know peace.

Sister, you were created with a beautiful cultural identity that reflects God’s image to the world. This is part of who God made us to be. We cannot flourish and thrive and feel at home unless we are able to fully lean into our God-given cultural identities. The way you were made was on purpose. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t believe the lie that your skin color, your beauty, your body, your customs, your views of the world, your expressions and everything that makes you you are unwelcome, less than, or without value. And whether it’s in this life or the next, you can trust that God is working to restore all things, including the joy, beauty, and pride of who we are as cultural beings. Home is coming for all of us. May that truth encourage you today.

 

[bctt tweet=”We cannot flourish and thrive and feel at home unless we are able to fully lean into our God-given cultural identities. -@drmichellereyes:” username=”incourage”]

For Your Memorial Day: Six Ways to Find Peace
in a Noisy World

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Our family will visit the cemetery today. Someone from the American Legion will hand us poppies. The pastor will say a few words to those who’ve gathered.

And then, we will bow our heads for a moment of silence. No one will speak. The air will fill with birdsong and the sound of flags flapping in the breeze.

In that moment, I will pray as I always pray: for peace to rule in hearts everywhere.

That’s how I’ve celebrated Memorial Day since I was a kid – with a few moments in a cemetery, observing and remembering. Maybe your Memorial Day looks similar to mine. Or maybe you’ll spend your day at a lake or a park or around the grill in your backyard. Wherever you may be today, may your day be filled with peace. And may you find a way to share a bit of your peace with the people around you.

The world feels short on peace these days, doesn’t it?

Mother Teresa once said, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” I worry, sometimes, that we forget that we really are in this together. It’s a noisy, hectic, I’m-right-you’re-wrong world out there. Today, I want to make a special effort to be less concerned with making a point and more concerned with making some peace.

If there really is going to be peace on earth, as the song says, “Let it begin with me.”

If there will be peace on Facebook,
or around the dinner table,
or in a sanctuary,
or out in this warring world,
or in a family squabble,
or in the midst of protest,
or on a lake,
or in some legislative chamber under a golden dome,
or in a world groaning under its own weight . . .
if there be peace here, or if there be peace anywhere on earth, then let it begin with me.

Here are six ways you can create peace in your life today:

Serve someone. There’s so much wrong in this world, which makes us angry and sad — as it should! One great way to bring more peace into the world is to bring a little peace to someone whose life is in turmoil. That’s one powerful way of taking our anger and turning it into a higher purpose. Find a person or organization near you who could use a bit of the love that you have within your heart.

Heal one piece of the wound within you. It’s hard to “pass the peace” when our insides are in turmoil. Take time this week to tend to your pain. It can feel overwhelming to think about fixing all that aches within you. If necessary, pick one piece and tend to it. Take that bit of wound to a trusted friend. Pray about it with your pastor. Write it on a slip of paper and burn that paper in your own personal bonfire as a way to say, “Good riddance.” (Invite a friend and ask her to bring the marshmallows.)

Point out the good you see. Take a picture of something that made you smile and post it to your social media channels. Of course, there is a time and place for us to use our social media platforms to point out injustice, but there is also a time and place for us amplify the good. Go, therefore, and show us your kittens, sunsets, and cute babies.

Resolve at least one conflict in your life this week. There may be someone who has gotten on your last nerve or who has stepped on your toes in a major way. The elephant is still in the room. Talk about that elephant, release it into the wild, and then move within that freed-up space toward a resolution.

Forgive someone. Nelson Mandela famously said, “Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.” You don’t have to forget, but when you choose to forgive, you have decided to stop drinking the poison.

Find inner peace. There are a lot of places one can go to find peace – a hiking trail, a sanctuary, the beach. But ultimately, the only way we’ll find true peace is when we look to Jesus.

And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts.
Colossians 3:15 (NLT)

This post was originally written by Jennifer Dukes Lee in May 2017.

 

[bctt tweet=”Wherever you may be today, may your day be filled with peace. And may you find a way to share a bit of your peace with the people around you. #memorialday -@dukeslee:” username=”incourage”]

For Your Memorial Day: Six Ways to Find Peace in a Noisy World

by

Our family will visit the cemetery today. Someone from the American Legion will hand us poppies. The pastor will say a few words to those who’ve gathered.

And then, we will bow our heads for a moment of silence. No one will speak. The air will fill with birdsong and the sound of flags flapping in the breeze.

In that moment, I will pray as I always pray: for peace to rule in hearts everywhere.

That’s how I’ve celebrated Memorial Day since I was a kid – with a few moments in a cemetery, observing and remembering. Maybe your Memorial Day looks similar to mine. Or maybe you’ll spend your day at a lake or a park or around the grill in your backyard. Wherever you may be today, may your day be filled with peace. And may you find a way to share a bit of your peace with the people around you.

The world feels short on peace these days, doesn’t it?

Mother Teresa once said, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” I worry, sometimes, that we forget that we really are in this together. It’s a noisy, hectic, I’m-right-you’re-wrong world out there. Today, I want to make a special effort to be less concerned with making a point and more concerned with making some peace.

If there really is going to be peace on earth, as the song says, “Let it begin with me.”

If there will be peace on Facebook,
or around the dinner table,
or in a sanctuary,
or out in this warring world,
or in a family squabble,
or in the midst of protest,
or on a lake,
or in some legislative chamber under a golden dome,
or in a world groaning under its own weight . . .
if there be peace here, or if there be peace anywhere on earth, then let it begin with me.

Here are six ways you can create peace in your life today:

Serve someone. There’s so much wrong in this world, which makes us angry and sad — as it should! One great way to bring more peace into the world is to bring a little peace to someone whose life is in turmoil. That’s one powerful way of taking our anger and turning it into a higher purpose. Find a person or organization near you who could use a bit of the love that you have within your heart.

Heal one piece of the wound within you. It’s hard to “pass the peace” when our insides are in turmoil. Take time this week to tend to your pain. It can feel overwhelming to think about fixing all that aches within you. If necessary, pick one piece and tend to it. Take that bit of wound to a trusted friend. Pray about it with your pastor. Write it on a slip of paper and burn that paper in your own personal bonfire as a way to say, “Good riddance.” (Invite a friend and ask her to bring the marshmallows.)

Point out the good you see. Take a picture of something that made you smile and post it to your social media channels. Of course, there is a time and place for us to use our social media platforms to point out injustice, but there is also a time and place for us amplify the good. Go, therefore, and show us your kittens, sunsets, and cute babies.

Resolve at least one conflict in your life this week. There may be someone who has gotten on your last nerve or who has stepped on your toes in a major way. The elephant is still in the room. Talk about that elephant, release it into the wild, and then move within that freed-up space toward a resolution.

Forgive someone. Nelson Mandela famously said, “Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.” You don’t have to forget, but when you choose to forgive, you have decided to stop drinking the poison.

Find inner peace. There are a lot of places one can go to find peace – a hiking trail, a sanctuary, the beach. But ultimately, the only way we’ll find true peace is when we look to Jesus.

And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts.
Colossians 3:15 (NLT)

This post was originally written by Jennifer Dukes Lee in May 2017.

 

[bctt tweet=”Wherever you may be today, may your day be filled with peace. And may you find a way to share a bit of your peace with the people around you. #memorialday -@dukeslee:” username=”incourage”]

God, I Want to Know You More

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I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, would give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened so that you may know what is the hope of his calling, what is the wealth of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the mighty working of his strength.
Ephesians 1:17-19 (CSB)

We can’t know God without God’s intervention. We can study the Scriptures as thoroughly as the Pharisees had done and yet still miss the message of the gospel. We can attend church faithfully for all our lives and not experience Him. It is only by grace and by the Holy Spirit’s revelation that we can know Him, understand the riches of His wisdom, the hope we have in Him, and the power of His strength.

Though our God is mysterious and unfathomable, He wants to be known by us, and it’s through His Word, through community, and most importantly through His Spirit, who lives in us, that He will make Himself known.

If you’re feeling far or blocked from Him, ask for the Spirit to give you wisdom to understand. Then have eyes to see and ears to hear what He shows you.

 

[bctt tweet=”Though our God is mysterious and unfathomable, He wants to be known by us.” username=”incourage”]

The Prayer That Brings Peace

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I read her words and knew I could’ve written them myself:

It seems the more I pray, the more difficult things become . . . A friend said, “Father, when does she get a break?” I am aware of my tendency to pity parties. But right now, I just want to quit.

Although I’d never met this woman, didn’t even know her last name, I felt a kindred connection. I knew what it was like to experience unrelenting circumstances, with no relief. I, too, had friends who regularly commented on my seemingly endless string of tough breaks.

And, like my online friend, I’d prayed for decades, bent knees, petitions raised, and tears shed. I’d begged the God I believed in with all my heart to answer my prayers.

And yet, at times, it seemed all I received in response were more hard times. Yes, I too experienced days when I wanted to quit.

The apostle Paul knew about unrelenting circumstances. In 2 Corinthians 11, he lists some of the difficulties he’d endured, things like homelessness, beatings, stonings, sleeplessness, hunger, pain, fear, thirst. He knew hardships far more difficult than anything I’ve known or can imagine. And I have no doubt he prayed faithfully for God to bring relief to his pain, to change his circumstances. Even so, he continued to suffer.

And yet, in his letter to the Philippians, Paul wrote these words:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:6-7 (NIV)

Do not be anxious about anything?! How is that possible? How does a man — or woman — who has faced years of suffering, in spite of prayers for relief, find real peace?

The answer, I believe, sits at the end of verse 5 in four simple words:

“The Lord is near.”

Not “The Lord might be near” or “The Lord will be near someday.” But the Lord IS near. As in today, right now, smack dab in the middle of whatever impossibility in which you find yourself.

Paul found what he wanted most of all in God’s nearness. He believed it was worth it to keep praying, to keep presenting his requests to God day after day, regardless of whether or not he got the answers he desired. Why? Because God’s presence mattered more to him than any relief to his pain. And in God’s presence, he found real peace.

I admit, sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough. I want a microwave faith, the kind that gives me, in seconds, quick relief and immediate comfort. Which is why, at times, when my prayers feel fruitless, I’m tempted to quit.

And yet, love compels us to continue. The kind of love that desires God himself more than even our own lives. A love that is so wooed by His nearness that we find a measure of peace even in our pain. Because we have a God who so loved us, that He gave his only son for us, enduring pain so we could have, forever, Him.

Peace doesn’t come when our circumstances change. Real peace comes when we enter in with the One who is already near, the presence of a God who never leaves.

Yes, I believe love prays. And although I’m not there yet, I want to be the kind of woman who is so in love with her Jesus that she continues to bring her petitions to the pain of the cross.

And the Prince of Peace who meets me there.

 

[bctt tweet=”The Lord is near — as in today, right now, smack dab in the middle of whatever impossibility in which you find yourself. #loveoverall #loveprays -@MicheleCushatt:” username=”incourage”]

Why I Don’t Want to Say, “Let’s Get Together Sometime!” Again

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I found out on Facebook.

Needing a break from my work, I clicked over to Facebook and scrolled. Scrolled and scrolled, stopping occasionally to click, but mostly scrolling. Then my eyes latched onto a short post from an old friend, and I froze.

Well, my scrolling finger froze, but my brain began spinning. What? How could this be? Was she sick? What happened? And then . . . I guess we’re never going to get together to catch up.

One of my best childhood friends died last month. My good friend who posted the announcement said it might have been an aneurysm. One minute she was fine; the next she was gone. As I read the news, I was flooded with a familiar regret.

Because my oldest daughter is in sixth grade this year and has, at times, been fully immersed in tween friend drama, my own tween friendships have come to mind frequently over the past several months. When my daughter cried about missing her friends who are in different classes this year and how she felt when some of those friends ignored her at lunch, I was immediately transported to my own middle school.

I spent all of my sixth grade year trying desperately to hold onto old friends who were rapidly becoming the “popular” girls. I also spent the year sitting next to my friend with the best big bangs and the funniest nicknames and the most infectious giggle. We had inside jokes and slumber parties, and we were totally BFF (best friends forever). But part of my friend-heart was never hers because I was holding out for those cool girls to finally realize they liked me after all.

At the end of our sixth grade year, my friend who’d been next to me all year announced she was moving. Her parents were getting divorced, and she was moving away with her mom. She was leaving, and I’d wasted all year taking her for granted because I wanted the popular girls to like me.

I thought of all of this when I heard this same friend had died. Not because I still felt guilty (although, fine, I did), but because I’d missed another chance to spend time with her much more recently. After living a few states away for years, she’d moved back to our hometown, just a few miles away from where I live now. When I saw that announcement (on Facebook, of course), I said what we all say, all the time: “We should get together!”

She agreed, we added some smiley face emojis, and then never talked again.

We didn’t get together. We didn’t catch up. We didn’t reconnect or reminisce. We didn’t do anything, and now it’s too late.

I’m not sharing this story to place my regrets on your shoulders. And even though beating myself up for being human is my default setting, I’m not allowing myself to wallow in shame here either.

But I am trying to learn from this experience.

A few months ago, we had no idea what was coming around the corner. I suppose that’s true for every season of every year; we can’t predict the future! But what has taken place this spring has been so alarming, so unprecedented, so life-altering that it certainly falls under the category of “didn’t see that coming”!

We didn’t know. We couldn’t have guessed. But even if we had, I wonder what we would have done differently. Who would we have hugged or visited or finally met for that lunch we’d been talking about forever? What project or errand or getaway would we have done right then, when we could? Would we really have done anything differently?

I’m not sure I would have. I think sometimes we have to learn the hard way; I certainly do.

But now that I’ve done some more hard learning, I’m praying that God will keep me mindful of this feeling without letting me be swallowed by regret. I’m praying that from now on I will prioritize people over my schedule. I’m asking Him to give me the motivation to redeem the time He’s given me — whether that’s time at home or time in the world. I’m praying for a heart that understands and accepts that we aren’t given any earthly guarantees but also trusts the Lord and doesn’t fear for the future.

It’s a tall order. I’m asking God to change me down to the very foundation of who I am — to make me more like Jesus, who seized every moment of mission and relationship He was given but also rested and recharged when He needed to. This all-or-nothing, procrastinating woman with misplaced priorities is a far cry from what Jesus modeled. But I trust that He will continue the good work He’s begun in me until I truly am who He created me to be (Philippians 1:6).

As our world yearns for all the things we’re missing, I’ve heard some people ask, “What will you do when things get back to normal?” Friends have shared the first place they want to go or the first person they want to visit, and these are good things. But I have spent a lifetime planning what I’ll do in the future — on Monday, when I finish this project, when I lose weight, when my husband stops working nights, when we’re not so busy. Now I want to ask God what He has for me to do right now.

I can’t get back the time I might have spent connecting with an old, dear friend. And we can’t go back to early 2020 and do all the things we were later kept from doing. But I can move forward in Jesus’s footsteps. I can reach out to a friend today. I can pick up the phone to — gasp! — call someone instead of text. I can look my kids in the eyes and let loose a belly laugh when they act ridiculous and play outside even though I really need to start dinner. I can pick up my Bible and let the Lord speak to me instead of hitting snooze one more time.

And when I don’t (because not one of us can do it all right, all the time — especially when handling a worldwide crisis!), I can leave my regrets at God’s feet and start again.

How has this pandemic changed the way you think
about how you want to live differently?

 

[bctt tweet=”I have spent a lifetime planning what I’ll do in the future. Now I want to ask God what He has for me to do right now. -@marycarver:” username=”incourage”]

When I Come Out on the Other Side of This

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I started the year off in a full sprint. January and February were unusually full and overflowing with travel, special events, and project deadlines. The hyper pace of this type of perpetual, uninterrupted hustle and bustle does not come naturally to me, nor do I long for it. I prefer a rhythm of balanced activity and pause, so I’m still wondering how I managed to over-schedule myself. 

But somehow, in the midst of two months, inundated with planning, writing, traveling, teaching, and parenting, there were a few free, quiet seconds. And in the expanse of those few seconds, I discerned that after February, I would get to pause — catch my breath. I saw a vision of me diving deep underground, beneath the earth’s soil. I know that technically diving into solid soil is impossible, but visions and unctions aren’t limited by our finite expressions of how things work in the natural realm. This vision gave me a sense of relief — a sense of calm. I longed for the placidity and welcomed the space to breath. I surveyed my calendar, saw that post-February was wide open, and therefore, I would be gliding back into my rhythm of balanced activity and pause —YES!

NO! A few weeks into quarantine life, I felt like I had been buried deep beneath the earth’s sod, but the sense of tranquility that I previously longed for had evaded me. The pause I looked forward to was not really a break if the whole world was broken. My rhythm of balanced activity and pause was nowhere to be found. At that point, I couldn’t even remember what my old rhythm felt like. I grieved the loss of normal. And when I heard people talking about getting back to normal, I thought to myself, “Normal is dead! Normal is no longer with us! Normal is not coming back!” And honestly, I didn’t have the strength to force the present extraordinary situation into normal’s old trappings. 

Every waking moment required my best intention and fullest attention. Each day seemed to offer old inquiries in the form of new trivial pursuits — from the menial (Where do I buy toilet paper?)  to the massive (How do I attend the funeral of a loved one?). The search for answers was grueling. The answer to both was I don’t. This daily adapting was exhausting, but adapting daily was necessary in order to thrive. All of the rethinking and relearning from what was normal was taxing! Being confined was suffocating. The loss of predictability was heavy. Contemplating what is to come was weighty.

But I remembered the vision of being underground and thought of the seed. The seed is buried deep underground, encompassed by the soil, pressed under the weight of the very element designed to grow it. The soil is endowed with the intelligence to summon the seed to leave its state of dormancy and become a plant, a tree, a forest. Before it can unfurl itself into the light of day above the earth’s surface, the seed must first be cultivated by the soil.

During this time of abnormal and discomfort, I liken myself to a seed being cultivated. Although heavy, I trust the weightiness of this time to command growth, to prepare me for my next stage of living, to propel me beyond my present state.

I can grieve the loss of what was, but I know losses make room for gains because Christ’s love leaves no deficits — no empty spaces. Though I am still in the depths of this, and though like a seed, I am still buried out of sight, the new has already begun. 

For I am about to do something new.
See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.    
I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.
Isaiah 43:19 (NLT)

I have already begun to see new life cultivating in my home and family. While we’ve had to abandon work, school, and activities outside the home, daily we get to eat dinner together, play together, and spend hours loving on each other. Due to my husband’s work schedule, eating dinner together daily hasn’t been an option for us for several years. And while I lost my work-from-home-alone time, my girls get to see what it looks like for me to create through writing, teaching online, and leading an organization. 

Spending concentrated time with my family is like looking in a mirror all day long. I’ve seen parts of myself — good and ugly — that went unnoticed in my former rhythm of life. But during this forced extended pause, I’ve been able to work on the ugly parts and celebrate the good parts. 

During this time of buried beneath the weight of all of this, I am a seedling holding on to the hope of new things. May we all be fully cultivated and prepared for the next stage of purpose even as we’re underground right now.

 

[bctt tweet=”I can grieve the loss of what was, but I know losses make room for gains because Christ’s love leaves no deficits — no empty spaces. -Lucretia Berry (@brownicity):” username=”incourage”]

No Social Distancing Between Us and God’s Love

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Nothing can ever separate us from God’s love.
Romans 8:38 (NLT)

This is the promise we can cling to today: God’s love is not distant even when I feel alone.

Loneliness makes us feel as though a chasm created cruelly by life has been placed between us and others. We can feel lonely when we’re by ourselves or perhaps more painfully, when we’re surrounded by people. As we’ve experienced social distancing for the past two months and possibly for much longer, being and feeling alone takes a toll. We are weary. We are aching. We are longing. And though we may need to continue social distancing from one another, God’s love is not distant at all. It is near to us, living within us, and nothing can separate us from it.

 

[bctt tweet=”This is the promise we can cling to today: God’s love is not distant even when I feel alone.” username=”incourage”]

How to Walk Through Our Circumstances of Change

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It was one of those moments when bad news shocked me to my core. I had no clear course of action except to fall down on the well-worn carpet next to my bed, sob my eyes out in my white cotton comforter, and pray the only word that came to mind: Help. Over the years, the Lord and I have met at that bedroom spot too many times to count. We met there when I was pregnant with my daughter and yet another test revealed problems. We met there when the military moved us away from a location I didn’t want to leave. We met there when relationships broke down and rejection and ugliness found a seat in my lap once again.

The physical rooms have changed from house to house, but the place of prayer has not.

That spot is where I cry out all the things to Jesus, where I sense Him patting my back while whispering, Shh shh shhh, dear child. It’s where I come to the end of myself — again — and find the beginning of His strength in me. It’s where I hold onto the edges of His robe for dear life. It’s where I ask and beg and learn and accept, sometimes without saying anything audible.

When I’m on my knees there, I feel closest to the heavens. When there’s nothing I can do to change my circumstances, prayer is not just how I deal with those circumstances; it’s the way I move through them.

Not long ago, I read the parable of the persistent widow in Luke, a story illustrating how we ought to pray and not lose heart. As Jesus tells, there was a city judge who didn’t care much about people or God. A widow in the city came to the judge repeatedly asking for justice against one who had wronged her. For a while the judge refused to grant her justice, but then he thought to himself:

“Though I neither fear God nor respect man, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will give her justice, so that she will not beat me down by her continual coming.”
Luke 18:4-6 (ESV)

Jesus ties the story to you and me:

And the Lord said, “Hear what the unrighteous judge says. And will not God give justice to his elect, who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long over them? I tell you, he will give justice to them speedily.”
Luke 18:6-7 (ESV)

It struck me afresh: Our pestering prayers become the well-worn pathways we walk on through our circumstances.

God is not put out by our repeated requests — quite the opposite actually. As the parable proves, God tells us to go right on ahead and talk to Him. Pour out to Him. Sob our eyes out in front of Him. Our prayers can tug on the edge of His clothing day and night, and He’s not exasperated or wearied by them. Instead, He responds to them and acts with justice. We can pester and pester and pester some more, and God is only too willing to answer them in a way that is always for our best.

I don’t know what road stretches in front of you during these long days, but if it holds difficult circumstances you didn’t see coming, as it does for me, and you don’t have a clue about where they lead, then stop and pray. Then do it again. Lean into Christ saying:

I will trust in You, Lord, not in myself. I will believe You are moving in this situation even if I can’t see how. I will know that no matter the outcome, You only allow pain that brings a bigger gain.

May you and I keep on keepin’ on through our prayers, the roads we take from our low places on the ground to the heights of heaven.

Your will be done, Lord, on earth as it is in heaven. 

 

[bctt tweet=”When there’s nothing I can do to change my circumstances, prayer is not just how I deal with those circumstances; it’s the way I move through them. -@Kristen_Strong:” username=”incourage”]

In the Quiet, I Am Still His Beloved

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And just like that, May has come and is almost gone. Do you remember five months ago when we all rang in 2020 with such hope, excitement, and expectancy? Then, fast forward to a couple of months in and the world decided to throw all of that hope, excitement, and expectancy out the window.

All of the “theys” out there have tried their hardest to put a positive spin on this unprecedented time in all of our lives. Create. Rest. Connect. Produce. Build. And I’ve tried, but I don’t think my trying has produced the kind of fruit I was envisioning.

Thankfully, I have had a bit of normalcy during this season. I am considered essential and so I have gone into work as usual. My church was given permission by our sheriff’s office to have small prayer gatherings that included social distancing, and I go for a walk everyday, soaking up all the fresh air and Vitamin D.

I have added Zoom call after Zoom call after online Bible Studies after worship services. I have also been full on in acquiring two life coaching certifications since January. I’ve actually stayed quite busy. That’s how I like it. I am a doer by nature, and I don’t do well with stillness, idleness, or extended alone time despite being quite a bit of an introvert.

The one thing this pandemic has showed me is that my capacity for quiet and the secret place was a bit lacking. The fruit of that has definitely played out in me not sleeping well for the past couple of months and some anxiety.

I would say that I haven’t been fearful of contracting the virus, but fear about other areas has come up in other ways. Evading fear, for me, has looked like work and numbing out. I can’t tell you how many shows I have binge-watched or how many trails of toxic thoughts I have entertained or how much time I’ve spent intentionally trying not to be alone. And on top of all of that, a really close friend is moving soon.

I’ve discovered through my coaching classes that I tend to avoid hard emotions by disconnecting from my heart and pretending those emotions don’t exist. The easiest way for me to do that is by not creating space for me to be still and alone with God.

One of my friends shared Song of Solomon 2:10-13 on Facebook recently, and it stopped me in my tracks. It was almost as if I could literally hear the voice of the Lord whispering into my ear. This is His desire for me and for you in this season while many of us have few to no other choices to fill up our time:

My beloved spoke, and said to me:
“Rise up, my love, my fair one,
And come away.
For lo, the winter is past,
The rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth;
The time of singing has come,
And the voice of the turtledove
Is heard in our land.
The fig tree puts forth her green figs,
And the vines with the tender grapes
Give a good smell.
Rise up, my love, my fair one,
And come away!”

Growing up as a child with both parents pretty much out of the picture, I never quite felt loved. When I became a Christian at nineteen, my head grabbed a hold of the truth that God loved me, but my heart hasn’t always held onto it as easily.

He has been gently reminding me that whether or not I feel loved, I am loved. I am loved because God is love, and I am made in His image. His very breath sustains my life. I was created out of His love to be loved by Him. Love is the language that He freely speaks over me and over you. We don’t have to be something we’re not. We don’t have to strive for His approval. We can rest in our identity being found in His love alone.

In these verses, Solomon bids his love to come away with him several times. He invites her into a secret place to see her face and hear her voice. He loves her and wants nothing more than to be with her. His beloved wants the same things. She is eager to be alone with him. She is eager to know him and be known by him.

Often times, I run away from this kind of intimacy with the Lord. I fear truly being known by the One who created me. I fear judgment or punishment or simply the realities of my sin. I allow shame to pull me away instead of allowing His kindness to lead me into repentance.

God wants nothing more than to commune with us, to have intimacy with us. He wants to speak truth to our hearts and hope to our souls. His love leads to pruning and growth. It leads to us conforming to His image. As we spend time with Him, His desires become our desires. We die to our flesh and become alive in Him. That is the mighty and undeniable work of His Spirit that comes out of stillness.

In my neck of the woods, life is slowly coming back, but there is still much opportunity for quiet and reflection. My prayer is that I will come out of this “pause” in my normal activity better than I went into it. I want to repent more quickly than I used to. I want stillness to be my new normal. I want my heart to know that I am beloved no matter what.

 

If you have found yourself struggling during this time to quiet your mind,
please share in the comments below — I’d love to pray for you!

 

[bctt tweet=”Love is the language that God freely speaks over me and over you. -@karina268:” username=”incourage”]

In These Days, Maintain Constant Love

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The end of all things is near; therefore, be alert and sober-minded for prayer. Above all, maintain constant love for one another, since love covers a multitude of sins. Be hospitable to one another without complaining. Just as each one has received a gift, use it to serve others, as good stewards of the varied grace of God. If anyone speaks, let it be as one who speaks God’s words; if anyone serves, let it be from the strength God provides, so that God may be glorified through Jesus Christ in everything. To him be the glory and the power forever and ever. Amen.
1 Peter 4:7-11 (CSB)

In dire times, we get to see the best of people and the worst of people — both sides reveal whether love or lack of it underlies their actions. There are videos and pictures of those who have poured out love to those who are on the frontlines of this pandemic, to the ones who have gone out of their way to wish a friend or a neighbor even a complete stranger a happy birthday. There are the Zoom prom and graduation celebrations and the generosity of so many to those who are in need, and it all reminds us that there is still good in this world.

But we also see the diminishing of other’s humanity, the racism and xenophobia, the justification of one person’s actions instead of the consideration of the greater community, and we lament that this world and its systems and its people are broken.

Jesus often preached in His days that the kingdom of God was near, and it is still true today. It is near, and how we love (or don’t) will be the measure of our Christlikeness.

Let’s love one another with an overflowing, constant love — just as He first loved us.  

 

[bctt tweet=”Jesus often preached in His days that the kingdom of God was near, and it is still true today. It is near, and how we love (or don’t) will be the measure of our Christlikeness.” username=”incourage”]

When Worry and Fear Weigh You Down

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We began studying Philippians as a church in the fall of 2019. Because we move slowly, verse by verse, we found ourselves in chapter three as we walked through Lent while sheltering-in-place. On Palm Sunday, I looked ahead to the verses that would come next, knowing they would be our Easter passage.

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. The irony was thick, but it felt like a gift.

On Easter Sunday, my church dove deep into Philippians 4:6-7:

Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.

In a world weighed down by worries, in a pandemic that feels more like Good Friday than Easter Sunday, choosing faith instead of fear is a daily challenge. Or, perhaps, it’s an opportunity. An invitation, even.

The following week, my Bible study group began reading Joshua. Over the next several months, we’ll go chapter by chapter, studying the words in their context and looking for God’s goodness woven throughout.

As I read the first chapter, two things stood out:
– The book begins with loss
– Joshua’s fear is met with reassurances of God’s loving-kindness and faithful presence

After decades wandering in the wilderness, the Israelites stand ready to enter the Promised Land. It’s time to set out, to walk in obedience and faith. They are the generation who will see the promise made become the promise kept.

But Moses, Joshua’s mentor and the Israelite’s leader, has just died. The one who spoke face-to-face with God is gone, and it’s reasonable to assume that Joshua is not only grieving, he’s filled with fear.

At first glance, I assumed Joshua’s fear was attached to the challenge ahead. How will he lead an entire nation? How long will the journey take? What will the land be like after all this time?

Fast forward to 2020, and I wonder, How will our leaders guide us in the coming days? How long will we shelter-in-place and worry for our loved ones? What will the “new normal” look like?

But a closer look led me in a different direction. Joshua’s fear isn’t tied to the unknown of the future — He’s afraid of a future without God. He doesn’t want the promise without the presence of the Promise Maker.

Three times in chapter one, God reassures Joshua like a mother comforting a child:

“I will be with you as I was with Moses. I will not fail you or abandon you. Be strong and courageous, for you are the one who will lead these people to possess all the land I swore to their ancestors I would give them. Be strong and very courageous.”
(verses 5-7)

“This is my command — be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”
(verse 9)

“Be strong and courageous!”
(verse 18)

Joshua has known the goodness of God in the middle of the unknown, and he would rather have the wilderness with God’s presence than the blessing without. In other words, what Joshua wants most isn’t a blessing — it’s God’s with-ness.

The comfort of Joshua 1 and the challenge of Philippians 4 collide in the beauty of Exodus 33:11:

Inside the Tent of Meeting, the Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend. Afterward Moses would return to the camp, but the young man who assisted him, Joshua son of Nun, would remain behind in the Tent of Meeting.

He remained behind. Long before Joshua led the Israelites into the Promised Land, he lingered in the presence of the One who made the promise.

Perhaps this is a picture of “Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers.” Perhaps worry is replaced with worship when we fix our eyes on the One who promises to never leave our side.

Will you join me in prayer today?

Lord God, we come with hands full of worries and fears. We are broken and needy. We are desperate. As You were with Moses in the wilderness and Joshua in the Promised Land, lead us through the coming days.

You wrapped Yourself in skin, dwelling among us in this broken, hurting world. Jesus, You wept over the death of a friend, even though You knew the story wasn’t over. And so Lord, You understand our hurting hearts. We bring them to You, asking for strength for today and hope for tomorrow.

Spirit, we’re grateful for the ever-present gift of Your presence. Comfort those who are grieving, grant wisdom to our leaders, give us courage in the unknown, and teach us to linger longer in Your presence, shaping our worries into prayers.

You are the God who comes and stays, the One who keeps every promise He makes. We don’t know what the future will hold, but we know that You’ll be there. Today, Lord, we declare that to be — declare You to be — more than enough.

 

[bctt tweet=”God, comfort those who are grieving, grant wisdom to our leaders, give us courage in the unknown and teach us to linger longer in Your presence, shaping our worries into prayers. #loveoverall #loveprays -@kaitlyn_bouch” username=”incourage”]

When You Need to Step Away

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The one who lives under the protection of the Most High
dwells in the shadow of the Almighty.
Psalm 91:1 (CSB)

The other day I told my friend, “Life is too short to do something that drains your soul.” This bit of truth rolled off my tongue easily that day because, in that moment, I was deep in the midst of a social media break. A growing restlessness in my soul, coupled with the prompting of the Holy Spirit, whispered to my heart that I needed to pull way back from the unending chatter of the internet. After trying to refill my tank with what a thousand of my closest “friends” had to say, God stepped in and invited me into a secret space — a sacred space, alone. With Him.

“It’s like stepping into God’s office to dump out all of my emotional garbage and let Him help me sort it,” I told my friend. We laughed about the visual, but one of the struggles I often wrestle with is my own eagerness to share with others what God is doing in my heart, in those private moments. When I make this mistake, I stop focusing on God, and start looking around at others. I start listening to their stories, quickly forgetting that just hours before, God was working out some of the kinks in my own.

This time, however, I stepped fully and quietly into that secret place with Him and sat there in my mess and endured the month-long unwinding of a great many knots in my heart. Instead of anxiety about stepping away, I experienced relief. I came to God dirt-dry and found revival in His presence alone.

Surely there is a time for testimony. We are called to tell of His goodness and grace to all who will listen. But also we are called to the quiet, tucked-away place alone with Him, where the uncomfortable-but-necessary healing and growing can happen, away from the chatter and peering eyes of the waiting room. Alone with the Almighty, I tasted the sweetness of grace that could not — and cannot — be experienced anywhere else.

This message was written by Kris Camealy and appears in A Moment to Breathe: 365 Devotions That Meet You in Your Everyday Mess from the (in)courage community.

 

[bctt tweet=”We are called to tell of His goodness and grace to all who will listen, but also we are called to the quiet, tucked-away place alone with Him. -@kriscamealy:” username=”incourage”]

We Do This Because Love Prays

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Our loved one is sick and needs a critical surgery. We can’t do the surgery ourselves, we can’t heal them ourselves, but we can pray. We can stand beside that hospital bed and cry out to God. We ask everyone we know to join us as we do. We do this because love prays.

We are on our way home when an ambulance races by. We can’t help them, we most likely don’t know the person inside, but we can pray. We pause for a moment and intercede for the patient and for those working to save a life. We do this because love prays.

Our community gets hit by a tornado and many lose their homes and everything they own. We can’t just go out and build a new home for them, we don’t have the funds to replace all their earthly belongings, but we can pray. We gather as a community and support them in prayer. We do this because love prays.

We hear the latest update of people sick, suffering, and dying from the coronavirus. We can’t save them, we can’t heal the hurt for their loved ones, but we can pray. We can join with people across the world and bring those suffering and dying and their loved ones to Christ in prayer. We do this because love prays.

We all want to make a difference in this great, big world. We want to make a real impact, but we may not always know how. We may not have the knowledge, the money, or the connections. What we can do won’t nearly be enough, but we can pray.

And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.
Ephesians 6:18 (NIV)

For some, praying is more of a last resort. We’d rather get to work, do it ourselves, and see results quickly so we don’t have to wait. Then, when we’ve exhausted all the things we can do on our own with no success, we pray. But really, praying should be our go-to first response! Prayer connects us with God and allows us to be part of His team.

Prayer is one of the most powerful, pure ways we can love others. It may not seem like enough, but prayer is one of the greatest things we can do.

Prayer make the impossible possible. Our prayers are not powerful because of our own doing or our own strength. That would be giving ourselves way too much credit. They are so powerful because God meets us in our prayers. The power and strength of our prayers are in the One who hears our prayers, not the one saying them.

You might think your prayers make no difference, but that is simply not the truth. God works through all things, and all things are possible with Him.

My husband and I lived thousands of miles from our family when he was diagnosed with a giant brain aneurysm. Our loved ones were far away, and they weren’t sure what they could do or how they could help. But they prayed. They called and sent cards to say they were praying. They put him on prayer lists. They asked others to pray. Prayers were being said around the world — and this was all before communication was as easy as a text. A lot of time, effort, and love was put into all that praying.

There was no denying the awesome power of prayer. We both felt the love and support of those prayers, and we know they made a difference because we didn’t know how we would get through such a traumatic thing. We did because of the prayer of others.

So, stay the course and keep praying. Don’t quit. Keep knocking. Our prayers make a difference.

In addition to writing live-giving words, Jennifer Ueckert also creates live-giving art. Check out her uplifting prints and paintings at StudioJRU.com

 

[bctt tweet=”Prayer is one of the most powerful, pure ways we can love others. It may not seem like enough, but prayer is one of the greatest things we can do. #loveoverall #loveprays -Jennifer Ueckert:” username=”incourage”]