Lift Your Eyes: How Shifting Your Focus Changes Everything

Lift Your Eyes: How Shifting Your Focus Changes Everything

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“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.”
Colossians 3:2 CSB

What fills your thoughts today? Is it the weight of parenting struggles or longing for a new career? Maybe your mind feels trapped in a spiral of anxiety, or numb with depression. Perhaps you’re fixated on goals, hoping your hard work will pay off, or burdened by the physical pain that dominates your body.

Whatever occupies your thoughts, Scripture gently challenges us: “Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.”

But what does “things above” mean?

It means heaven. God’s full presence. His unmatched power. It’s His throne room, where He hears and answers our prayers. It’s the Father’s house with many rooms, a place of eternal belonging He is preparing for us right now. It’s a place of healing, where tears no longer fall, sorrow no longer stings, and joy knows no bounds. It’s a place of awe, wonder, and unending worship. A place of forever love.

Take a deep breath. Let that sink in. What else comes to mind when you think about “things above”?

The contrast is clear: our earthly lives are often defined by brokenness, sorrow, and daily struggles. God doesn’t ask us to ignore these realities or pretend they don’t matter. He knows they do. But He invites us to shift our focus — not because our problems disappear, but because fixing our thoughts on Him changes how we endure them.

When we set our minds on things above, we remember where our true hope lies. We remember that God’s power, peace, and promises are greater than any earthly pain. His love steadies us when life feels chaotic.

So, how might this shift in focus transform your day? Instead of dwelling on the burdens you’re carrying, pause to picture the eternal promises waiting for you. Remind yourself that the God who created heaven is also holding your heart right now.

Set your mind on Him, and let His truth give you peace for today and hope for tomorrow.

Truth for When Fear and Anxiety Take Control

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Most mornings throughout the school year were the same. Wake my two children, get them dressed and fed, hand off lunch boxes and backpacks, pray the armor of God over them, and get them out the door and headed to the bus stop.

If we ran short on time, I would pray the same prayer once they were on the other side of the door. The armor of God is a marvelous spiritual truth with great imagery. Who wouldn’t want their children to be girded with the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, shoes of the gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit as they head into each new day?

But there was a problem. My confidence in their safety each day was dependent upon the words I prayed. It became a ritual that I believed was necessary in order for God to protect them. If I forgot to pray, I would immediately become fearful that I had put my children in harm’s way.

My fear that a failure to pray might cause my children harm spoke volumes about how I viewed my heavenly Father. Would a good father remove his hand of protection over his children just because a well-meaning mother was too tired or distracted to pray? Looking back now, that seems absurd. But I didn’t always believe in God’s essential goodness.

Sure, I believed in God. I’d given my life to Jesus. I’d experienced the power of the Holy Spirit. But, if I’m honest, God always seemed a little distant and scary. Less like a comforting parent, more like a taskmaster. In time, this belief began to be revealed in my prayer life. I tried to pray with the “right” words. I prayed only for the sake of pushing back fear and anxiety. I prayed with pleading and bargaining, like I was the persistent widow (Luke 18:1-8 NIV), pounding on the door of the unjust judge. But our God is not an unjust judge — He is a loving Father!

He is not waiting to smite us or our loved ones if we don’t pray the right words at the right time — He delights in our prayers.

What is your view of our heavenly Father? Do you see Him as an ever-present comforter? A faithful protector? The One who loves you most? Or do you view Him more like the unjust judge who didn’t care about others or what they thought? When fear threatens to consume us, it’s important to remember that God isn’t waiting for us to pray the perfect prayer before He comes to our aid. He is a good Father who always has our best interest at heart.

Now, I realize that my view of God was grounded in a fear of punishment. A fear that even if things seemed good, the other shoe was sure to drop. Why? Because I didn’t feel worthy of God’s love. I believed He might help if I showed my faithfulness in prayer, but that was all on me. I’d put my trust in my ability to please, or perhaps appease, Him. But that’s not what God was looking for. All He ever wanted was a heart open to His love.

Beloved, God is for you, not against you!

I sometimes wish I could go back and whisper this truth to myself, the young mom who was so fearful to send her children out the door each morning. I wish I could tell her that God really does love her, and her children too. I wish I could tell her that it really will be okay. I would tell her, “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 31:8-9 NIV).

Beloved, even if you don’t yet believe this, it’s okay. That doesn’t change who God is. Simply ask Him to reveal more of His love to you. Ask Him to show you His tender goodness. Surely, He is a good Father who delights to give good gifts to His children, and His perfect love really does drive out fear.

What If Waiting Isn’t a Season?

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My mom texted me the word: savor. 

She was telling me to savor the day I had ahead of me, but the word rang true in so many ways. How much of the goodness of God do I miss, simply because I don’t slow down long enough to open my eyes and savor it? 

Savor it.

Most of the time, I don’t know how to savor the moment, the day, whatever is right in front of me because I’m waiting for the next thing to unfold. I trick myself into thinking, “Once this happens, then I can savor it…”

I am coming to understand that all of life is waiting. Yet, I keep falling for the trap that if I can just get what I want – my dreams fulfilled, my prayers answered – then I won’t have to wait anymore. 

Christians talk a lot about seasons. As a pastor myself, I’ve started to notice how often I do this. I find myself asking someone in my congregation, “How is this season going?” or “How can I pray for you in this season?” It’s not that I dislike the metaphor of seasons. God made seasons and where I live in Canada we get all of them. It can be helpful for me to see my life through that lens – to know sometimes I’m living in a cold winter, or through change like autumn, or new growth like spring, or the beauty of summer. 

But what if waiting isn’t a season? 

All of life is waiting for something: a proposal, a job, a baby, more money, the stoplight to turn green. We sit in waiting rooms, we wait for healing, phone calls, a text to come through, for things to get better. We wait for a spouse, for kids to come back to us, for “the season to end.”

It turns out, waiting isn’t a season at all. We’re always waiting for something. 

I hate that revelation. I hate waiting. I want to get to the next thing, and I want to get there right now. 

In Scripture, waiting isn’t impatient or frustrated. When the Bible talks about waiting on the Lord, it’s referring to a trusting, joyful anticipation of what God might do.

Imagine that! Imagine, in your waiting – whatever you might be currently waiting for – you started to see it less as a season that hopefully will end soon, but more as an opportunity for deeper trust and joyful anticipation of what God might do.

Listen to these words from Isaiah 40:28-31 (NASB):

“Do you not know? Have you not heard?
The Everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth does not become weary or tired.
His understanding is unsearchable.
He gives strength to the weary,
And to the one who lacks might He increases power.
Though youths grow weary and tired,
And vigorous young men stumble badly,
Yet those who wait for the Lord
Will gain new strength;
They will mount up with wings like eagles,
They will run and not get tired,
They will walk and not become weary.”

This passage fills me with fresh hope and anticipation of all God might do while we wait. It turns out, the goal of waiting is not to simply kill time until we get what we want.

The goal of waiting is to stir up joyful anticipation of what God might do next. The text says it all: we get tired; God doesn’t. 

It’s okay to get tired of waiting. I don’t think that’s wrong. But I just don’t want to miss out on what God could be forming in me during the waiting. The new strength He’ll bring. The trust He’ll deepen. Or perhaps even, the joyful anticipation and wonder of all He could do…

That’s something I’m excited to savor. 

 

Listen to Aliza’s devotion below or on your favorite podcast app!

For the One Who Is Walking through Grief

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I’m sitting in a coffee shop on a beautiful morning. My thoughts return to several recent losses in my life and I tell myself, “You have to be okay.” But then I realize, I would never say this to someone I love. Why is it so hard to be gentle with ourselves in our most tender moments?

If you struggle with this too, or you know someone who’s grieving, here are words you can borrow today…

It’s understandable that you feel grief. It is a sacred emotion. Grief tells us about who we have loved and what we have lost. It whispers to us, “This mattered.” It reminds us, “Life is fleeting, treasure it.” Jesus wept outside the tomb of Lazarus even though His friend would soon be resurrected. He wept because, in this world, all is not yet as it should be.

You are made for relationships that do not end in death.
You are created for joy that is unbroken by tragedy.
You are destined for a forever Home untainted by loss.

Your grief gets heavier when you say, “I shouldn’t feel this way” because then you must carry shame and guilt too. The truth is, you should feel this way. Grief is the way we process pain, the bridge we cross from loss into our new normal. And grief isn’t only for when someone we love is no longer here.

Grief is for dreams that don’t come true.
Grief is for relationships that end too soon.
Grief is for every time you imagined what could be, then experienced a different reality.

God is not angry with you for your grief. He is not telling your heart to hurry up. He is not accusing you of not trusting enough. No, the God who weeps, who is close to the brokenhearted, is with you. The Messiah was prophesied to be, “a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief” (Isaiah 53:3 NLT).

He is also the giver of hope. Not the cotton candy kind, not the sort of hope that feels like a spiritual band-aid slapped on an open wound. No, the kind of hope that says after the cross comes the empty tomb, after the darkest night comes the morning, after the tears comes the moment when they will be wiped away forever.

Do not seek to banish your grief, to hide it in shame, to ask it to never come again. It is your companion in this life. Open the door to it, give it a seat at the table of your heart, offer it a bowl of soup or a bit of bread, let it tell you its stories and its truth. It has much to teach you.

When the time is right, grief will slip away for a while. You will wake one morning with the sun in your eyes again. Grief will return many times; it will be a lifelong visitor. But it is hope that will stay, that will prop its feet up on your furniture and open the curtains to let the light in. The Giver of that hope will always be with you too.

When you feel joy, you align with the heart of God.
When you feel sorrow, you align with the heart of God.
There is no emotion you can experience that will separate you from His love.
He is as near to you in your aching as He is in your celebrating.
God welcomes your tears. He makes space for your sadness. He is fully present in your pain.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”
Psalm 34:18 NLT

Do you need gentle reminders of truth each day this year? You’ll find them in Holley Gerth’s new devotional book, 365 Truths for Every Woman’s Heart. Download a free excerpt here.

 

Listen to Holley’s devotion below or on your favorite podcast app!

The Hard and Beautiful Path of Choosing Repentance Over Resentment

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Confession: I have harboured anger, resentment, and bitterness against others. At times, I don’t easily forgive and feel justified in my unforgiveness, and though I desire humility, pride has won its fair share of fights. I try hard to love others well but often fall short when I conclude that withholding my love is well-deserved. 

Can you relate? If so, I’m sharing this raw part of me so you can know that you’re not alone. 

God is repeatedly teaching me that when we choose Jesus, we choose a different way of living – not one where we play judge and jury over the offenses of others and we let our emotions hand down the verdict.  Choosing Jesus means allowing the Lord to help us process our feelings and change us from the inside out so we can be a light to others and bear fruit that will bring Him glory.

A couple of years ago, I was hurt by the words and actions of someone I looked up to, respected, and cared for — someone I held in high regard and admired. As a result of the hurt they inflicted and the brokenness I felt, anger started to grow within me. That anger grew into resentment, which became bitterness. I knew these feelings weren’t serving me well, and they most likely contributed to the lack of peace I often felt.

My mind and heart were in a wrestling match: what I knew to be true versus the feelings that overwhelmed me. But surely the Lord understood, right? After all, isn’t He the One who gave me the capacity for these emotions? I wanted to follow Jesus, but I also wanted this person to apologize. If they just owned their wrong, this could all be made right, I reasoned.

For two years, I carried the burden of unforgiveness and secretly held the sin of resentment and bitterness toward this person.

Earlier in this fall, after a time of confession with the Lord in prayer, He brought me to James 5:16 (NLT): “Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results.”

I sensed the Holy Spirit saying to my heart, “Ligia, you must now call the individual, confess what you have been carrying against them, and ask for their forgiveness.”

Tears began to well up in my eyes. I had so many questions brewing: Why? Why me and not them? They claim to follow Him and love Jesus too. Certainly, doesn’t the Spirit of God speak to them as well?

Like a toddler, I tried bargaining with the Lord to get out of what He asked me to do, hoping He would change His mind.

A few days later, I came across a verse I had read many times before, but it had never spoken to me as vividly as it did on this day. Philippians 2:8 (KJV) says, “And being found in the fashion of a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient unto death—even the death of the cross.” The words “He humbled Himself and became obedient unto death” hit me hard. I, too, want to be obedient to my Father, but what’s the price I am unwilling to pay? If I love Jesus the way I say I do, then don’t I also have to be humble? 

This isn’t the easy message of prosperity often preached. This is the raw and real call of Jesus: pick up your cross and follow Me. Not to prove yourself but to humble yourself and embrace the opportunity for God to complete the “good work” He began in you. As Paul reminds us in Philippians 1:6 (CSB): “I am sure of this, that he who started a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

A few weeks later, I finally made that difficult phone call. (I am human, and God is still working on my response time.) My palms were clammy and my heart raced as I spoke. Unsure how to begin the conversation, I found courage through the Holy Spirit’s guidance and my heartfelt confession. With a trembling voice, I fessed up to my wrongdoing and apologized. However, what followed wasn’t a hallmark moment. Instead of a deep gasp followed by words of repentance from the other end, there was an uncomfortable silence, soon broken by a defensive reply. No reciprocated apology or acknowledgment of the bravery and humility it took to make this call. It wasn’t the outcome I had hoped for. Yet, this was not about me but about fulfilling the footsteps of Jesus in obedience to my Father.

We can trust that the Holy Spirit continuously speaks to our hearts as our counselor and guide — we just have to listen and obey. When we choose disobedience and justification over conviction and repentance, we explicitly silence the Holy Spirit, creating barriers to the freedom we frequently pray for.

My friend, be assured that the Lord is at work in you! When He asks us to do hard things rooted in His Word and spoken by His Spirit, He sets us on the path of completing the good work He already started. Our obedience is our partnership, which is the key to the freedom we desperately desire.

 

Listen to Ligia’s devotion below or anywhere you stream podcasts!

Wishing for “Normal” and Seeing God’s Character

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I knew early on our daughter was different. She wasn’t walking. She skipped crawling. I ached when I heard other toddlers forming beautiful little words, like mama or dada, while she remained silent. It turned out she couldn’t hear for the first several years of her life. Fixing her hearing was just the beginning of the long journey of advocating for our daughter.

There are many faith songs about surrendering to God and trusting His plan, but if I’m honest, I’d rather sing those songs than live them. However, that’s not the call of the faith we profess. We often can’t understand what God is doing, but we are called to trust that He knows better and will work it for our good.

There was a time (or seven) in our journey with Lila where I thought I could fix her with the newest therapy, the greatest miracle supplement, or praying hard enough. I have since stopped believing that if she were more “normal,” she would have a better life.

God didn’t make a mistake when He weaved her genes together and made her just so. This leads me to believe He is showing a part of Himself through her.

She watches others open a gift and cries with joy, jumps up and down, and hugs them, as if she were the one receiving it. Give me boundless joy like that! She walks down to the neighbor’s house and asks them with intensity, “And how was your day?” Give me others-centered awareness like that! I almost missed out on God in her by wishing my circumstances were more “normal.”

We can have faith that our lives and their interruptions will accomplish God’s good purpose. And perhaps, once we start believing this to be true, we can open our white-knuckled grip and receive a better gift than we could imagine: Jesus.

It was never about our circumstances. It was always about Him.

“For just as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so my ways are higher than your ways
and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”
Isaiah 55:9 NLT

By Jami Nato as published in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle

What if you could actually see God clearer and know Him deeper in the middle of your struggles?

You don’t have to keep trying to muster up more grit, willpower, or wisdom on your own. You can tap into the source of true, unfailing strength. How?

In our favorite devotional journal, 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle, you’ll discover where strength really comes from: Jesus, the One who holds everything together. As you experience pain, move through daily challenges, or get bogged down by anxieties big or small, you can walk with your favorite (in)courage writers and learn to find Him right in the middle of whatever you face, ready to strengthen you and give you rest.

You are stronger than you think because God is closer than you know.

 

Listen to today’s devotion here or find the (in)courage podcast on your favorite app!

An Overachiever’s Reminders About the Secret of a Good Life

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We’re now two weeks into the new year. Already I’m exhausted. And annoyed. Everywhere I turn someone is promising me that I could (and should) look better and feel better. I should be further along in my career and my relationships could use some work. Not to mention, am I exercising enough? Eating enough protein? Getting enough sleep? I mean, who can sleep when there’s so much self-improvement to do? And yet, all the commercials and courses promise me more happiness and more success if I buy this and do that.

Ultimately, behind all the marketing lingo and promises of improvement sits an irritating (and terrifying) message: Who you are and the life you’re currently living isn’t enough, Michele. You need to do more, be more. 

The problem? This “not enough” message isn’t a hard sell. Many days I’d agree. The tension between what I long for and what is feels a lot like disappointment. Solomon said it well in Ecclesiastes:

“When I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun.”
Ecclesiastes 2:11 NIV

They say that the book of Ecclesiastes is a book for midlife crises; perhaps that isn’t far off. For the record, I’m not in a crisis, but I am certainly in mid-life. And I’ve discovered there is a unique perspective in this season that is as sobering as it is freeing. You see, I’m learning there are never enough hours in a day to get my to-do list done. No amount of exercise will guard me against getting older. No amount of dieting will finally produce a perfect body. No book on relationships will guarantee a marriage without conflict or photograph-worthy relationships with adult kids. No amount of working and saving will boost my bank account enough to buy my way out of a health crisis.

In fact, I suspect I could do everything right and still end up with a life that looks entirely wrong.

Whew. What a bunch of bad news, yes? What in the world are we to do with this hard truth? Quit exercising, working, eating healthy, and growing in relationships? If no amount of bootstrapping effort can produce guaranteed results, why bother trying? Sounds like a mid-life crisis in the making.

And yet, Solomon provides the secret, the wisdom he learned even while navigating a sobering mid-life perspective:

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”
Ecclesiastes 3:11 NIV

The secret to Solomon’s wisdom (and an overachiever’s peace) isn’t working harder or working less. It’s about trusting “what God has done” more.

You see, if we want a guaranteed, beautiful result, we need to tie ourselves and our plans to the God of eternity. We need to relinquish our hold on our earthly destinies and grab hold of the One who holds the cosmos in His hands. To do this, I regularly remind myself of the following truths:

  1. Life (and people) on this side of heaven will never look like heaven. Don’t expect it to.
  2. Hard work matters. But it’s less about getting certain results and more about offering up honest worship.
  3. “To live is Christ and to die is gain” (Phil. 1:21). Care for the body is about stewardship, not self-worship.
  4. Three of Jesus’ last words on the cross were, “It is finished” (John 19:30). Believe Him. The most important work has already been done.

Who I am and the life I’m living doesn’t look anything like what I imagined. That is true. No course, curriculum, or marketing campaign can deliver what I need and want most. But my God can. And He will. He will make everything beautiful in its time. I believe this. Thus, I choose to stop putting so much weight on my efforts and, instead, trust in His.

 

Listen to Michele’s devotion below or on the (in)courage podcast wherever you stream!

What to Do with Your Middle-of-the-Night Anxiety

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“Rise during the night and cry out.
 Pour out your hearts like water to the Lord.”
Lamentations 2:19 NLT

Most days after school, I spent fifteen minutes writing notes to God. I think I was twelve or thirteen. I didn’t even call myself a Christian then. But every afternoon, I peeled open a small, light-blue journal and begged God for friends. 

There was a group of girls who gave themselves a special name, and being part of their group was the hope of every junior high girl I knew. So I’d sit down and scribble my heart out to God: God, please let me be invited into this group. When I see so-and-so after fifth period, please let her ask me to join. 

Day after day after day. 

Finally, at some point, I gave up. I gave up on hoping to be invited in and on whether or not God cared. What I didn’t realize is that before I gave up, I’d been building a little habit. 

Years later, it was almost instinctual for me to open up a journal and write my heart out. The God I wondered about years before—the One I thought didn’t care and didn’t answer me, the One I was pouring my heart out to — was the One I now knew. And I already knew how to talk to Him! Throughout those years of honesty and unanswered prayers, I was building a posture I had no idea I would come back to like a muscle with memory. 

Think about your most honest journal entry. What if you addressed it to God? 

God wants our honest feelings. Our emotions and true thoughts aren’t too much. They aren’t a liability; they are a pathway to intimacy and true growth. 

The anxiety and worries that wake us in the night have a welcome place to go. The contents of our hearts do not have to stay inside and hidden. What would you say to God if you were twelve or thirteen again? What would you say if you knew God’s ears and heart were wide, wide open? 

by Tasha Jun, as published in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle

Your Waiting Is Not Wasteful

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I’m holding her blue knit shawl when she asks me. My nine-year-old daughter asks me to come outside in the dim light of evening, to sit with her, to wait with her, and — to watch her — as she plays with the kittens.

She sees the shawl and the needle, because I’m about to sew a rip for her, and she says, “No Mum. Just you. Please just come, and sit, and watch. No shawl.”

I’m ashamed to say I brought the shawl. I sat and stitched and soon, she went inside, leaving me on the deck in the low light with the kittens. The request had seemed extraordinary, unnecessary. It was her shawl after all, and it needed fixing. Wasn’t I helping her by doing this? And wasn’t I still there, with her, and why did she need me to just watch? Couldn’t I do both? After all, I had an endless list of things to do like making supper and school lunches and. . .

She was gone. The moment, over. Lost, forever. And I could hear His gentle whisper. “Martha, Martha. . .” Yes, I could even hear the crack of alabaster, the splash of oil, the gasp of the disciples, “Why this waste?”

It had felt like a waste, this sitting and watching. But it’s all He asks, and it’s all He’s ever wanted.

“Remain here; watch with me,” Jesus cried in the garden, this place of Genesis where life first sprung, where God Himself walked with man and talked with him and made His home with him. We began in a garden, friends. A place of beauty and rest. A place trailing with vines and flowers and communion. But we chose to leave. We chose to toil. To sew the shawl.

After all, this is what society values, and even church, with its multiple ministries and Bible studies and the pot of coffee to fuel us onward. And in it, we miss it. We miss Him.

To wait with Him, to watch Him at work, this is what it means to abide. “As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me” (John 15:4 NKJV).

A few days later Aria tries again, kind of like how God always tries again, because His mercies are new every morning. “Mom, will you just sit and watch me play piano? Come here please, sit on this couch, and just watch.” I was happy to. And even as I sat and observed her hands moving across the ivories, even as I applauded and her hazel eyes met mine, I saw her . . . and I saw Him.

To wait on someone, as in a restaurant, means to serve them. To wait on Jesus is to serve Him. Waiting is not wasteful. It is obedience.

“Waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.”
Romans 8:24-25 MSG

In the waiting and the watching, our souls expand, making room for joy. This is the secret place, my friends, this place of contentment as Paul calls it, this place of abide.

A few mornings later, Aria and I stood waiting for the bus together. She wore her shawl. The sun broke like alabaster and spilled pink across the morning. And my daughter sang, “I am thankful. . .”

Oh, the things our children teach us, friends. Let’s not miss it for the world.

Let God Define the Good

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I love to read multitudes of words in all the various forms they come in. But sometimes it’s not a lengthy passage that stirs my devotion. Sometimes a simple phrase or even a single word captures my attention completely — a snippet speaking to everything I didn’t know I needed. Things like:

Be patient with yourself. This one jolted me years ago when a dear friend sat by my side in the back hallway of our church as I cried over something that seemed so silly, yet I couldn’t easily get over it. She reminded me to be patient with myself. I don’t know why this had never occurred to me before, but I found immense comfort in the realization that just like I was patient with other people, I could be patient with my own self.

Identity, Intimacy, Influence. This alliteration has been the core of my desire to cultivate a deep walk with Christ. Identity, intimacy, and influence are trigger words for me that remind me to remain anchored in my identity in Christ, to not shy away from cultivating intimacy with Him, and to trust that organic influence comes not because I strive to make something happen but out of the overflow of my abiding in Christ (John 15).

Let God define the good. When I heard this on a podcast while driving a couple of months ago, I almost pulled over on the side of the road. A woman was sharing about her time overseas, and what life looked like when she returned home. I can’t remember the bulk of everything shared, but that one powerful phrase has stuck with me since I heard it. This will forever be added to my wheelhouse of words that encourage and compel me to keep my eyes on Jesus.

“Let God define the good” lifted a weight off my shoulders. Even now, those words provide a deep breath and an exhale. I don’t have to muster what I think good should look like for my marriage or family or ministry or whatever. I don’t have to wallow in despair when what I expect doesn’t materialize the way I think it should.

Letting God define the good doesn’t disregard the tangible struggle or frustration we may feel. This mindset doesn’t justify hurtful moments or actions that are not right. It’s simply an invitation to submission and surrender. Just like God deemed what He made “good” at creation, we can let Him define what is good even now.

Even if we can’t see the good. Even if it is more or less than we expect. We can lament and repent, we can dream and be content. And in all of it, we can declare, God, I’m going to let You define the good.

When I allow God to define the good in my circumstances, I exchange my disappointment for His desires. In that exchange, He works all those things out for my good.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
Romans 8:28 NIV

If you need (like I do!) to surrender your pen to the true Author and Finisher and absolute Definer, here is a prayer:

Yes, Lord, we will agree with Your Word, define the good for us this year. God, define what it looks like to thrive and flourish, what it looks like for us to run upon heights where only Your wings can take us. God, define us.

Speak the words that only You can say. Breathe into us the way You breathed life into Adam’s lungs, that body of dirt rung from the earth — that body set in motion by what came forth from Your lungs. Help us to long for what You love. What You love is us and You called us good and decided that it was good to come, with us, as one of us, to bring us closer to You.

Jesus, You encountered discomfort, toil, and tension, yet for the joy set before You,You endured what we never could because Father God defined it as good. You defined us as worthy to be pursued. So Lord, we’ll let You define our good. It may not look like what we see to the left or the right of us, but instead of comparison and strife, we choose to lean into the words You’ve written over our lives. And in Your good, we’ll delight. Amen.

 

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

The One Thing That Can Change Everything

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The past two years have brought with them the greatest sorrow of my adult life. Cruel, rare, and unfamiliar diagnoses became the story my loved ones are living. Glioblastoma, Li-Fraumeni Syndrome, peripheral nerve sheath tumor, breast cancer… Really, God?

It’s all so much for one family to bear.

When I was younger, and not yet tested to this extreme, my husband and I would try to put ourselves in the shoes of friends or family when trial or tragedy befell them. We’d ask each other, “How would I want  to respond if something like ‘this’ happened to me?” We’d consider the circumstances in light of our faith, and imagine what a God-glorifying response might look like. Talking through real-life scenarios allowed us to think about and plan how we’d hope to react to a given situation.

Time has revealed that what is easy in theory, isn’t always so easy in practice.

To be honest, I’ve been disappointed in my reactions to our family’s hard circumstances. I’m not doing a great job of practicing what I profess. Rather than remembering the Good News of the gospel, I’ve focused on feeling hopeless and helpless because there’s so little I can do. Prayer doesn’t seem like enough.

In recent years, I’ve had dear friends walking out their own stories of grief and trauma, and they manage to be “all glory to God” in the midst of their trials. Not surface-level Pollyanna-ism, but earnest, hard-fought-for, beautiful responses to the kind of stuff no one should have to experience. Their inspiring responses have pointed me to Jesus in a way that makes me want more of Him.

It is also then that condemnation often creeps in. A convincing and faith-rattling tool of the devil, condemnation tempts me to compare myself to those who respond “better” than me. When that happens, I’m putty in Shame’s hands.

Having followed Jesus most of my life, I’m aware of what the Bible teaches about hardship. (Like how James says we should consider it all joy when we face all kinds of trials because it’s the path to God’s perfecting work in us.) But there’s an angry, grief-informed stubbornness to my heart these days. Too often I refuse to surrender to God’s plans and instead lean deeper into my heartache.

How can I trust in God’s goodness and believe His promises amidst the pain and suffering all around me? In moments of overwhelming grief, I wonder how anyone can.

The answer, at least in part, lies within my question: I can’t trust God’s goodness or believe His promises on my own. I don’t have the strength to manufacture hope or faith in the face of overwhelming grief. That’s the point. Belief, hope, and trust are not things I can produce — they are gifts of grace given by the Holy Spirit. If I could conjure them myself, why would I need God at all?

There’s freedom in understanding you can’t do what you weren’t made to do in the first place. My inability to “just believe” reveals my deep need for the Spirit to do in me what I cannot do on my own.

 Jesus told us He would send a Helper (John 14:16-17, 25-26 ESV) who:

  • would be with us forever
  • is the Spirit of truth
  • dwells with us
  • is in us
  • is sent by God
  • teaches us all things
  • reminds us what Jesus says

What a gift! The Holy Spirit is God’s active presence in our lives, the supernatural power that fuels belief and hope and trust in the first place.

Last month, I attended an evening of worship with friends, and the theme was Jesus – The Light of the World. The Holy Spirit revealed something powerful to me about the sad and hard season in which I find myself, through the wisdom of Katherine Wolf:  “When the feeling of hope failed me, the habit and practice of hope carried me.” Light bulb moment.

When the feeling of hope failed me, the habit and practice of hope carried me….

Maybe for the first time, I recognized how my feelings were undermining my faith. Pain demands attention, and when I’m preoccupied with the circumstances that cause pain, I take my eyes off Jesus. How can you see God when you’re focusing on something else? It had never occurred to me to develop a habit of hope.

We’re nine days into a new year. Maybe you aren’t a resolution setter or yours are already unset (wink), but today is as good a time as any to establish a habit — to practice hope, belief, and trust in the goodness of God. For me, that looks like compiling a list of Scriptures that speak to these things and literally writing out Practice Hope, Practice Belief, Practice Trust on sticky notes attached to my computer.

If we’re consistent with our practices, spiritual muscle memory will carry us when trials and tragedies knock on our door and feelings overwhelm us. Practicing elements of our faith won’t make things perfect, but cultivating habits can train our hearts to make room for the Holy Spirit.

And, while we may not get the miracle or change in circumstances for which we’re praying, God will be changing us to hope, believe, and trust in Him. Our reactions to life’s sorrows will be different as a result. The active presence of God in our lives is the one thing that can change everything.

Including me and you.

The Most Awkward Encounter Jesus Has…

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I was born in India and moved to Dallas when I was seven years old. For most of my life, I was the only person who looked like me in the rooms I walked into, which would remind me that I was an outsider. I felt like everyone was staring at me — but I felt invisible at the same time.

Like many immigrants, I tried to just blend in and belong. I would never ask for anything more, even when I wanted it because I didn’t think I deserved it. I knew I may never get to sit at the table and should just be grateful to be in the room. A part of me also feared being rejected because I was different. Even my name, Simi, announced to everyone that I was an outsider.

Last year, God helped me heal from this mentality. For too long, I had allowed the world to show me who I was based on how they treated or responded to me on a given day. The root of this lie I believed for so long was not understanding of my identity and worth.

Recently I read about the Canaanite woman in Matthew 15 who goes out to meet Jesus; this is perhaps one of the most awkward encounters we see in Jesus’ ministry. (Not because of her, but because of Jesus.) It is also one of the few times Jesus uses the words “great faith.”

For context, the Canaanites were a group of people considered cursed by God because of their enmity with Israel. They were also idol worshippers. So automatically, the Canaanite woman’s culture, religion, and tradition make her an outsider who had no claim to the promises of God. Yet she comes crying to Jesus out of sheer desperation, asking for healing for her demon-possessed daughter.

A similar scene plays out again and again in Jesus’ ministry. People were constantly seeking Jesus for healing and bringing the sick and oppressed to Him. But this time, Jesus responds differently. Jesus ignores her plea. The disciples see Jesus’ silence to this outsider and ask Jesus to send her away. As if His silence wasn’t confusing enough, when Jesus does speak to her, His words are harsh and cold. He replied to this desperate mother, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs” (Matthew 15:26 NIV).

It is almost as if Jesus is trying to push her away, but this woman only pulls in closer to Him, kneeling before Him. “’Yes it is, Lord,’ she said. ‘Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table’” (Matthew 15:27).

This woman’s boldness to go to Jesus and her audacity to ask again and again is so inspiring. Even Jesus is amazed at her “great faith.” 

Too often when we pray and God seems silent, we become offended or disappointed. We assume that God doesn’t care about our lives or that He thinks we are insignificant. But those are the moments God uses to grow our faith, just like He did with this Canaanite woman.

James 1:3-4 (CSB) teaches us “that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing.”

Great faith has to be produced. Her desperation made her pursue Jesus but He used her persistence to produce great faith.

Friend, it is easy to pull away when you feel pushed down by life. It is hard to keep praying for the same thing when God seems silent. Maybe you have felt like God has rejected you, doesn’t care, or thinks you are insignificant. But the Canaanite woman’s story shows us that sometimes God doesn’t immediately answer our request because He wants us to spend more time talking to and pursuing Him. God doesn’t just want to answer that one prayer, He wants to produce great faith in us so that we can run this race with endurance.

This encounter isn’t about how Jesus changed His mind and gave in to her request. It’s about Jesus changing her mind about who she believed she was — an outsider who didn’t deserve the blessing of God and couldn’t belong to the family of God.

The Canaanite woman went home with her miracle, but also with the knowledge of her identity and worth.

Friend, if you feel unseen, unheard, or like an outsider, let this story remind you: You are not invisible to God. You are not insignificant. He sees you, knows you, and invites you to draw closer to Him. When you persistently pursue Jesus, even in moments of silence or confusion, you will discover more than an answer to your prayers — you will discover His heart for you.

Your identity and worth are not determined by the world or your circumstances but by the God who calls you His own. Pull in closer to Him, and let Him meet you there.


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

One Word to Help You Hear the Good Shepherd in 2025

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For the last few months, my parents have been living with us because of flooding in their home. While major renovations happened at their house about 15 minutes away, we savored quality time all together with Nana and Papa for the holidays.

My dad turned 82 this year, and one of his personal challenges in this senior season of life is that he is hard of hearing. We all have learned to adjust the way we communicate with him. We have to speak louder and make eye contact so he knows we are talking to him.

He wears in-the-ear hearing aids most of the time, which are custom-fit for his ears and amplify the sound waves to clarify what he hears. I can always tell when he’s taken out his hearing aids or the batteries are running low because my mom has to raise her voice or touch him to get his attention.

As I’ve watched my daddy struggle with his hearing, I’m filled with compassion. Failing body parts are certainly par for the course for all of us as we age. Even in my 40-something body, I feel new aches and pains, hormone roller coaster rides, and longer recovery periods after workouts or long work days.

As I approach 2025, I don’t want to take my hearing for granted in a physical or spiritual sense. That’s why I’m choosing the word “hear” as my word of the year.

I want to tune my ears to hear God’s voice above the noise and discern His direction for my daily life.

For the past 14 years, I have chosen a word of the year. As I follow that one word, I find myself on a treasure hunt of sorts. I dig through Scripture to see how that word is used and where it’s repeated. This provides a framework for me when I study the Bible and as I talk with the Holy Spirit throughout the day.

My word themes have connected year after year like bright bulbs on a string of twinkly lights. One year’s lessons flow into the next year and spark another set of lessons. God has taught me so much through these words: Joy, Grace, Mercy, Glory, Redeem, Flourish, Behold, Wonder, Abundance, Soar, Rejoice, Hesed (the Hebrew word which translates to lovingkindness), and this past year the word See. These words have shaped my life, my writing, and even my focus. 

In 2024, I learned to see God in new ways. I journeyed with Hagar through Genesis 16 and learned about how she named God El Roi, meaning “the God who sees.” I learned to open my eyes to see how God might be at work in the world, through my family, and in my circles of influence.

Studies show that our technology is actually reshaping our brains so it’s harder to concentrate on one thing. I feel this in a deep way. I am so easily distracted by social media notifications, shiny new projects, and too many options in the grocery store. I’m often drooping with decision fatigue by the end of the day. This is the main reason I want to continue this spiritual practice of choosing one word to focus on each year and why I’m being intentional to hear Him this year.

In the Bible, the words “listen” and “hear” are often translated as “obey” or “to give heed to.” Listen and obey also have the same root in Greek, which shows they are inextricably tied together. Listening or intentional hearing is not just allowing something to go in one ear and out the other. I’m learning that hearing my Heavenly Father is about listening and obeying Him.

In his book, The Listening Life, Adam McHugh writes, “In a sense, the Scriptures are a tuning fork for adjusting our ears to the tone of God’s voice.”

This year I want to soak more in the Scriptures. Daily time in God’s Word can be about learning and gaining knowledge, but it’s also one of the clearest ways we hear God’s voice personally. It’s like stepping into a quiet pasture, away from the chaos, where we can hear Him calling us by name.

Jesus illustrates this so beautifully when He describes Himself as the Good Shepherd in John 10. He says:

“The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.”
John 10:1-4 ESV

I love this image: the Shepherd who calls out and the sheep who respond. The voice of Jesus leads us — if we are willing to listen and follow.

I want to make more space to hear the Holy Spirit’s voice in my life in 2025. I believe He has specific assignments for you and me, but we need to dig into His word, pray and listen regularly, and enlist trusted mentors to help discern those assignments. These practices are like my daddy’s hearing aids: they amplify God’s voice in our lives so we can hear Him clearly and obey.

And here’s the beautiful truth: our Good Shepherd hears us, too. He cares about our hurts and hang-ups, our heartaches and harvests. He laid down His life for us. We can trust Him to lead us to green pastures and still waters.

Friend, it’s not too late to choose a word of the year! What’s one word you can follow into 2025 that will help you tune into Jesus, the Word who became flesh? (Need some help? Take this short Word of the Year quiz from our friends at DaySpring!)

Dorina helps people feast on the glory of God through her books, Bible studies and weekly Glorygram.

Why Smaller Steps Make Bigger Changes in a New Year

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For many years, I made grand New Year’s resolutions. I would resolve to go to the gym more, eat healthier, learn a new language, get more sleep, and read the whole Bible — all in one year.

But within a few weeks, I’d give up because it was all too much. I felt like a failure because I wasn’t able to keep the promises I made to myself. Then I’d repeat the pattern the following year.

However, several years ago, I stopped making resolutions because I found them inherently problematic. While resolutions work for some, they can be overwhelming for others because they force you to think too big. Resolution-makers tend to be overly ambitious. Suddenly, just because the calendar turned over, you’ve committed to walking 15,000 steps a day, drinking a gallon of water daily, starting a hobby, reading the Bible in 365 days, and going to bed earlier every night. That’s a lot to handle all at once.

If you are great at keeping resolutions, that’s amazing. I celebrate with you! But if you’ve repeatedly blown your resolutions, I’m here to help you develop a manageable method for building good habits into your life.

First of all, if you’re a resolution-breaker, know that you’re not alone. A multitude of studies show that the majority of resolution-makers abandon resolutions within the first two months; many don’t make it two weeks.

If resolutions aren’t working for you, there’s a more effective strategy. It lies in the power of small changes, bite-sized habits, and immediate goals.

Try this. Pick one doable thing you can do tomorrow to make life better. Focus on the present-day commitment, rather than fixating on whether you can persevere for 365 days in a row. Over time, by showing up daily, a habit will form.

When you’re ready to tackle another goal, build another practice into your life — until it, too, becomes a habit. Continue the pattern, folding in new habits as you’re able.

That’s the wisdom behind Zechariah 4:10 (NLT) which says, “Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.”

The verse comes from a vision God gave to Zechariah during the rebuilding of the temple in Jerusalem. The task of rebuilding was monumental, and there were many challenges, including discouragement caused by the people comparing the new temple to the grandeur of the previous one. (Raise your hand if you’ve ever compared your progress to someone else’s.)

But God reminded the people not to undervalue the start of their work, however small it seemed. The beginning was worth rejoicing because it marked the first steps of progress toward fulfilling God’s promises.

The same is true for us.

Even a habit that starts small can grow into something significant under God’s guidance.

That’s the philosophy I eventually adopted. Because of that, I’ve been able to grow in all of those habits I mentioned earlier. I regularly go to the gym and consistently eat healthy foods. I’ve read through the Bible in a year(ish) many times. I have a 778-day streak on Duolingo, an app where I practice Portuguese and Indonesian. How? By building doable habits into my life – one “small beginning” at a time.

This year, remind yourself it’s okay to start small. If you want to finish the Bible in the next year or two, commit to what you can do today, like reading for 10-20 minutes. Then, be deliberate about doing it again tomorrow. If you want to walk 10,000 steps a day, start with 5,000 today. Add steps until you reach your goal.

Give yourself a little bit of grace and time. Celebrate the gratification of reaching an immediate goal. It will give you the boost you need to keep going, day after day.

In this new year, focus on progress, not perfection. Trust that God can use your small beginnings and grow them into something beautiful.

 

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

Pausing for Prayer: Starting the Year Together in Faith

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“I call on you, my God, for you will answer me;
    turn your ear to me and hear my prayer.”
Psalm 17:6 NIV

Here we are, just a few days into the new year. Maybe you’re trying to find your rhythm after the holidays. Perhaps you’re energized, setting goals and making plans. Or maybe you feel overwhelmed, longing to pull the covers back over your head and hit pause on it all.

Wherever you find yourself on this fifth day of 2025, one thing remains constant: prayer is worthy of our time and attention.

Prayer is God’s invitation to draw near, to connect our hearts to His. It’s a lifeline of hope, turning our focus from us to Him — from our struggles to His faithfulness, from our fears to His perfect peace. Prayer shifts us from wallowing to worshiping, from dwelling on what we lack to praising Christ for His sufficiency.

Prayer is not a monologue but a conversation. It’s a sacred space where our requests can rise and our hearts can rest, knowing we are heard.

God hears you, friend. He sees you. And His ear is inclined to the cries of your heart.

Let’s pause together today. Share your prayer requests in the comments, and then take a moment to lift up the woman who commented before you. Let’s carry each other’s burdens to the throne of grace and celebrate the promise that God not only hears us — He answers.

What a privilege to stand together as sisters, united in faith and prayer.

You are not alone. Let’s pray.

 

A Letter from God for the New Year

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If you were to stand at my house front, knock your gathered palm on the wood of my door, I’d welcome you in and lead you up the stairs littered with toys. I’d take you to the closet in my boys’ room, point upwards, and show you the wooden chest laid high on that top shelf, collecting layers of dust and who knows what else.

“There it is,” I’d say. “All my journals and all my letters.”

Then I’d point out the other boxes and bins, all stuffed with more letters from my youth until now. I’d walk you down the stairs to the room where my desk sits, and I’d open up drawers — the ones with postcards and envelopes shoved inside. I’d tell you to look at the wall in front of my desk to see the clippings of cards and the notes I’ve pinned up.

  • One, from a friend who became family, reads: Dear Sissy, I miss you so dearly. Thank you so much for always sending a note…
  • And another, from a childhood friend: We’re excited to have moved to a town that we hope to call home for a long time…
  • And another, from my high school chorus teacher: Hello my wonderful friend, all is well up here…
  • And another, from a fellow author and friend: Sweet Rachel, you have inspired me! I can’t wait for your book #2 ♥…
  • Then, a note from my son, simply scribbled: To Mom…

After all this — showing you my stacks of cards and letters — I’d sit you down and tell you why I keep these words within my reach. Pinned on walls. Put up on the fridge. Stored in boxes and bins, saved from weeks and years ago and kept safe, forever in my heart.

As a child, I moved a few times. And, with that, I’d grown accustomed to missing people. I moved around the fifth grade and missed out on starting middle school with my best friends. Then I moved again at the end of middle school, leaving new friends and losing my place on the softball and tennis teams. I sought so desperately to cling to the ones I loved — writing letters was a way to hold the line of connection.

I wrote letters because I didn’t want to let go of the ones I loved. I wrote letters to say (and hopefully receive and read) all the things I needed to say and hear . . . a way to remind myself of all things beautiful and enduring and true.

And so, here I am — here you are. We are standing at the precipice of yet another new year. And, already it is a melting pot of anticipation and pain. Already, it is an achingly beautiful tapestry of hardship and hope. Already, it is ripe with opportunity and adversity.

I know this because this is how all years go. Every year is a pull and tug of beauty and brokenness, a marathon of highs and lows, a landscape of valleys and mountaintops.

Who knows what the year will bring? Children who come back home. Healing from diseases. Mending of marriages. Or, perhaps, our pain from the past will carry over? The limp that lingers. The jaded job search that continues. The ache that remains from a friendship fallen out.

For all that we carry and all that we’ve yet to come across, sometimes we need more than just one word for the year — we need a whole letter… a whole book, a whole Bible full of promises to help us preserve and get through the year ahead.

So, instead of simply inviting you into my house and showing you the letters I’ve saved, here is one of your own. This inspired letter, creatively written by me and infused by the Word of God, is for you — written as if from God’s heart to your own.

As you look out upon the start of another new year, may this letter remind you of all that is beautiful and enduring and true.

Dear Daughter,

I see you. (Psalm 33:13-15)
I see you as you were, as you are, and as you will be. (Psalm 139:1-10)
Look to Me; turn to Me. I am Your help.
I am the Maker of the heavens and the earth, and I am the Maker of all your moments.
Look to Me, for I am the only One, in all the heavens and the earth, that can hold you and help you. (Psalm 121:1-2)
I hear you, daughter. I hear you when you pray and I hear you when you are in pain. (1 John 5:14, Psalm 118:5-6)
Do not look to yourself for answers, rather look to what you know is true of Me. (Proverbs 3:5-6)
Trust in Me. (Psalm 25:1-2)
Delight yourself in Me. (Psalm 37:4)
Look to Me, and Me alone, for divine direction. (Psalm 37:5)
I am He who leads you. (Psalm 32:8)
I am He who loves you. (Psalm 36:7)
My love is never far away.

Written by Rachel Marie Kang, originally published on January 3, 2024.