When ‘What If’ Worries Fill Your Mind

When ‘What If’ Worries Fill Your Mind

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Aren’t two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s consent. But even the hairs of your head have all been counted. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
Matthew 10:29-31 (CSB)

Today, we’re holding on to this promise: I can trust God because He cares for my every worry.

What if I lose my job?
What if my parents get sick?
What if my kids get hurt and we have to go to the hospital right now?
What if I can’t handle my work and my child’s education?
What if I get worse in my mental health and I can’t reach out for help?
What if what we have in the bank can’t carry us through this time? 

Each of these worries is real and painful. We don’t have to pretend that we’re not worried or act like trusting in God means living nonchalantly. But we can trust Him because He cares for every single one of our worries. You are not insignificant in His eyes or overlooked by Him. He, who has counted every single hair on your head, cares about your well-being and your life. Let’s turn our worries into whispered confessions and ask for help to trust in Him.

 

[bctt tweet=”Today, we’re holding on to this promise: I can trust God because He cares for my every worry. #promiseoverpanic” username=”incourage”]

Death Is Not the End

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I’ve distracted myself in every way I can think of. 

I’ve watched hours of Netflix. I’ve read books about murder mysteries and a book on staying awake to love (by my fellow (in)courage sister, Anjuli, and I highly recommend it). I’ve eaten bags of chocolate mini eggs and worked out so hard in my living room I can barely walk the next morning. (Hopefully, the workouts cancel the chocolate.) I even signed up for a dating app. I thought finding love in the middle of a pandemic might help unfurl some of the loneliness coiled deep within me.

It turns out talking to boys on a dating app just makes me long more for Jesus. Distractions do nothing to truly satisfy what I need most.

I’ve wanted to forget that the entire world feels like it’s shutting down around me, like the people outside my windows and door aren’t suffering and splintering apart at a distance. 

The loneliness and sorrow and pain and fear are practically tangible. I can almost feel them in the breeze as I open my backdoor to let air into my apartment. 

I go on daily video calls with my church family to offer encouragement, reassurance, and truth. We remind each other daily that we will get through this. We pray and we read Scripture, knowing in the depths of our spirit that God is good and that He will bring good from this. 

But the pain persists. Living in the midst of a pandemic is painful.

And when I feel pain, I want to distract myself. I want to numb out. I want to escape. I don’t want to sit in this new reality, alone in my apartment. I am afraid of giving in to my loneliness, afraid of a tsunami of grief, afraid of thinking about how long this might all last. 

Last night, I couldn’t fall asleep. I stayed up crying, tears dripping hasty and forceful onto my pillow. I cried for all of the people who are going to lose someone to this virus. I cried for all of the funerals that will take place — maybe months down the road, after we’re finally allowed to come back together. I cried and I cried. 

But even as I mourned and grieved — the loss we are feeling, and the losses yet to come — I held onto one solid truth, grasping it firmly with both of my hands: Death is not the end. 

Tears leaked from my eyes, but I said aloud to Jesus, “Death is not the end. You conquered death. It’s not the end.” 

In a world that has screeched to a stop, a world riddled with fear and anxiety over death, I am holding firm to this truth. This truth does not remove all of our pain. Even this morning, I was reading in John when Jesus went and brought back Lazarus from the dead. But before He resurrected him, He wept. He, too, felt the pain over death. And He, more than anyone, knew it was not the end.

I hold onto this truth in defiance against this virus and against the sin that mars our world. Death is not the end. We have more than this life on earth. There will be a day where all of this pain and sadness will come to a halt, full stop. We will live in eternity, and the time we’ve spent here will feel like seconds.

This is the Good News — the news I forget almost daily. But let this wash over you, even as you feel the pain and sadness bearing weight on our world right now: Death is not the end.

Can you breathe in and feel that?

Jesus defeated death. He has conquered it.

He will wipe every tear from your eye, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things will be gone forever.

 

[bctt tweet=”Breathe in the good news today: Death is not the end. We have more than this life on earth. -@alizalatta:” username=”incourage”]

Love Sacrifices for the Sake of Others

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Before I met the Lord at the age of nineteen, I didn’t know I needed a Savior, but I knew all about God. I went to Mass every Sunday. I even prayed to Him through the tears of my difficult childhood. I would characterize my relationship with Him as very superficial. I didn’t know what I was missing.

If you would have asked me then if I was going to Heaven, I would have said yes. I was a pretty good kid. I didn’t get into a ton of trouble. I wasn’t a cause for worry or concern. I was a good person. That merited eternal life, right? I didn’t know what I didn’t know.

On the night I met the Lord, the veil over my eyes was lifted. I had a revelation. Even though I was good, my good wasn’t good enough. My good would never be good enough. Me on my best day would never warrant me eternity. My righteousness to Him was as filthy rags.

It shook me. I was a sinner, and I was in need of a Savior. There, in a Thursday night service at LSU among a room full of college students, I confessed Christ as my Lord and Savior. That day changed everything. It changed how I viewed God, myself, and the world.

This present era we find ourselves definitely tops the list of uncharted territory. We are surrounded by an enormous amount of fear and uncertainty. We do not know what the future holds, but we assuredly know Who holds the future.

. . . but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Romans 5:8 (ESV)

The header for Romans 5 in my Bible says “Peace with God Through Faith.” Don’t we need more peace and more faith today possibly more than ever? My church has been consistently reminding each other that church has never been about a building; the Church is us. It’s you and me, the very temples of God’s Holy Spirit.

My friend Aimee has been saying this can be our finest hour as Christians. It totally can be. We have a rare opportunity to make choices that will display how the love of God is shown.

This is such a beautiful time where the Church can be the Church beyond the walls of the church. There are countless open doors around us to be the hands and feet of Jesus. Who around you is suffering? Who around you is feeling far from Him? Who are around you doesn’t yet know Him?

We were made for deep and intimate connection. I pray that we would not be afraid to connect with those around us during this season. Reaching out can look like you and your kids baking for your neighbors, taking walks and asking your neighbors if they or someone they know needs prayer. It can be making grocery store trips for the elderly in your neighborhood and church. It can also look like having genuine conversations with neighbors you don’t know very well and asking them how they are doing and even if they have a relationship with God.

The world has strayed so far off the beaten path. All of us have clung to every idol under the sun — the gods of money, entertainment, sports, and even education. But right now they’ve all been stripped away. This is a time when the enemy of our souls can so easily come against us and blind the lost to His love. All he wants to do is distract us and tempt us to become self-focused, to worry or numb out.

May we be a people who find ourselves in the secret place with the Lord so He can love us and send us out with His love, His truth, and His purpose. May we be a people who make the most of our now unhurried schedules. May we be a people who rise up in bold faith in the midst of a world gripped with fear.

We are here for such a time as this.

We, the body of Christ.

We, His ambassadors.

We, the salt and light.

We, the kings and priests.

So much of the world is frightened, hurting, and confused. So many in the world are lost, broken, and dying. What better time to sacrifice and lay down every desire and proclaim the truth of the gospel found in Romans 5:8 and love our neighbor? For the joy set before Him, Christ endured the cross. His joy was a redeemed relationship with His creation. God knew before He ever even formed Adam that sin would enter the world and separate us from Him. He knew, and He still created us in His own image. He still went to great lengths to pursue us at our worst, and He pursues us to this very day.

God loves the world that He made. It is His heart that all would come to know Him. He made the greatest sacrifice, and now is the time we can show His love to others and to share the good news.

Tell me about a time when you sacrificed in order to share the gospel,
meet a need, or simply love someone with the love of God.

 

[bctt tweet=”This is such a beautiful time where the Church can be the Church beyond the walls of the church. #loveoverall #lovesacrifices -@karina268:” username=”incourage”]

Walking with the Resurrection

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Today’s passage is a bit longer, but we invite you to take your time reading it. Imagine yourself in this story, walking with Jesus in the midst of confusion, grief, and hopelessness.

Now that same day two of them were on their way to a village called Emmaus, which was about seven miles from Jerusalem. Together they were discussing everything that had taken place. And while they were discussing and arguing, Jesus himself came near and began to walk along with them. But they were prevented from recognizing him. Then he asked them, “What is this dispute that you’re having with each other as you are walking?” And they stopped walking and looked discouraged.

The one named Cleopas answered him, “Are you the only visitor in Jerusalem who doesn’t know the things that happened there in these days?”

“What things?” he asked them.

So they said to him, “The things concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet powerful in action and speech before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him. But we were hoping that he was the one who was about to redeem Israel. Besides all this, it’s the third day since these things happened. Moreover, some women from our group astounded us. They arrived early at the tomb, and when they didn’t find his body, they came and reported that they had seen a vision of angels who said he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they didn’t see him.”

He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Wasn’t it necessary for the Messiah to suffer these things and enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted for them the things concerning himself in all the Scriptures.

They came near the village where they were going, and he gave the impression that he was going farther. But they urged him, “Stay with us, because it’s almost evening, and now the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them.

It was as he reclined at the table with them that he took the bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him, but he disappeared from their sight. They said to each other, “Weren’t our hearts burning within us while he was talking with us on the road and explaining the Scriptures to us?” That very hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem. They found the Eleven and those with them gathered together, who said, “The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!” Then they began to describe what had happened on the road and how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
Luke 24:13-35 (CSB)

The two disciples were walking in the suspended days between Jesus’ death and resurrection. After following Him all those years, they must’ve felt abandoned and empty, lost and bewildered. As they argued, were they hashing out with one another was and wasn’t true? And in the midst of their arguing and grieving, Jesus shows up and walks with them. He explains the truth about Himself again and shares a meal with them, as He probably had done many times before, and in the breaking of bread, they realize who He is.

We seem to be living in suspended days as well. Every day, we try to figure out what we’re supposed to do, and it’s confusing. We seem to be sheep without a shepherd as we navigate this pandemic, but God will show up here and now. We are not without our Leader, our Shepherd, our God. Through a meal or someone’s kindness, through overwhelming generosity or someone’s gentle answer, through His Word and through Zoom prayer meetings, we can see Him still. 

Lord, teach us again Your truth during this time. Show up as You did then for the disciples on the road to Emmaus and burn within our hearts the hope of Your resurrection. Amen. 

 

[bctt tweet=”Through a meal or someone’s kindness, through overwhelming generosity or someone’s gentle answer, through His Word and through Zoom prayer meetings, we can see Him still. ” username=”incourage”]

The Flowers Fight for Us

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I can’t seem to get over the flowers these days.

For the last three weeks, the farthest I’ve gone from my home is about half a mile. Most days after lunch, my family and I take a quick walk around our tiny neighborhood loop. We’ve been sheltering-in-place, like much of the rest of the country, and these daily walks have given us some stability while the rest of our lives float in uncertainty.

The house behind us has a row of daffodils standing at attention like bright yellow soldiers who guard a white picket fence. There are light pink magnolias on a side street close to ours, and lavender crocuses surprise us at the base of mailboxes and tree trunks.

On our walks, I see people in the neighborhood I’ve never seen before. We silently obey the social distancing rules, taking turns shuffling our bodies into the street so others can have the sidewalk while we pass. I see weariness in their eyes — even the cheerful ones. No one looks put together. The loss of our clean-cut hair confirms this common understanding that we’re all hanging by a thin thread.

The news today predicts more job losses, more death, more waiting, more disparities, and more discouraging numbers than I can keep count of. I cry with gratitude when I see photos of nurses and doctors whose red marks and indentations, paths of stress and sorrow, line their faces. My friend with an autoimmune disease, a nurse, texts me to say how scared she is before heading into a COVID unit, and the fear I feel for her is visceral. I feel a gash in the face of hope when I read vitriolic accusations online, get a message about someone else who’s lost their job, or feel the anxiety rising in my Asian American body when I am in public and don’t know how a stranger will respond to my existence beside theirs, like Grace wrote about here.

The world weeps, and yet God still speaks through petals and green stems.

Every year between October and April, I manage to forget how beautiful spring is. But this year, it’s more than my yearly winter amnesia. The flowers this year seem audacious. The weight of COVID-19 hasn’t kept them from rising. These gentle symbols of resurrection stand straight up to salute the sun.

My kids bring their own cameras on our short walks. They take note of dandelions and find funny faces, hairstyles, and personalities in the shapes of the trees. We observe tiny gray fish in the neighborhood retention pond, witness a duck take flight from the water, and look at the greenish pond scum lining the rocks by the water’s edge. We’ve become a family of tourists in our own neighborhood. We are thirsty for wonder.

We pass by an elderly gentlemen’s house and notice that he’s in the garage. Stopping on the sidewalk from fifteen feet away, my husband calls out for him, asking him how he’s doing, if he’s holding up okay. He’s wearing a gray sweatshirt and black athletic shorts, carrying an American flag out to place in the holder on the outside of his garage. My boys run ahead after waving hello. He asks our daughter how she is by name, smiling gently at her as she grips her Daddy’s leg. I tell him to let us know if he needs anything, reminding him we’re just down the street, always home, and happy to pick up anything he might need. His smile widens and he looks at my husband, then me, and says, “I’m much older than you, but I still remember how scared we were when polio was going around. We were all so scared. Everyone was scared.”

He has the best yard in the neighborhood, and it’s not for any kind of suburban competition. We often see him outdoors, caring for every patch of grass, tree, and flower bed living around his home like they are his children.

He pauses, then says, “It feels scary right now, but we’ll get through it.”

His words pull me from the intensity of our current pandemic, and I think about how many sorrows and springs he’s already lived through. I wonder if he’s always paid such close attention to the flowers and people’s feelings, as he seems to today.

I keep going back to the account of Lazarus’ death in the book of John. The Holy Spirit brings it to mind, and I linger in the sentences where Martha tells Jesus that if only He was there, things would’ve been different. I feel her desperation below my ribs where I keep the same haunting questions undercover.

And every day, on our walk, He nudges me back towards the flowers. He shows me how they fight with tenderness and mercy and reminds me to do the same. He relieves me of my fear for a moment, as He refocuses my sight on the blooms and the neighbors He’s placed all around me. There’s so much to notice, consider, and love – even in loss and a continued quarantine. He reminds me that He weeps and waters the earth with all of our sorrow, and tomorrow, though it feels too late, He will always come.

I think He’ll come with flowers.

 

[bctt tweet=”Through flowers, God shows us how they fight with tenderness and mercy and reminds us to do the same. -@tashajunb:” username=”incourage”]

The Safest Way to Give a Hug

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In the depths of our garage, there’s a huge Rubbermaid tub hidden on a bottom shelf. It’s dusty, as are most of the contents of our garage, and blends in to the surrounding items with nonchalance.

But lift the scuffed lid, and inside you’ll see a treasure trove.

It’s full of cards. This giant tub is full of cards that span my 37+ years of receiving them. There are cards from my birth, baptism day, first Christmas and first birthday. There are cards from every single birthday I’ve ever had. Many cards from various holidays throughout the years. Dozens of “thinking of you” check-in cards from friends and relatives. Cards I was sent in elementary school, cards from middle school recitals and plays, cards from high school performances and awards, and cards from earning college accolades.

There are cards from graduations and congratulations on new jobs. There are sympathy cards from the death of my beloved grandma and grandpa, from my two miscarriages, from the recent death of our family dog. There are cards we received for our wedding from family members now in heaven, friends estranged. There are cards whose envelopes are covered in stickers, a hallmark of my dad (he buys stickers in bulk and still sends me, and now my kids, sticker-emblazoned envelopes!). There are cards from four decades, every age and stage of my life represented in that blue tub.

I can’t bear to part with them.

The handwriting snaps me back to decades ago, to laughing with my grandma and walking down the aisle and performing on stage. The words bring up sweet and sad memories, holiday traditions that we still enjoy and others that have gone by the wayside. The senders are some of my favorite people. Even the stamps and postmarks tell a tale.

And in every single one of these saved cards, there’s a hug.

We could all use a hug right about now, am I right? Personally, I’ve been self-isolating with my family of five for six weeks, so that’s how long it’s been since I’ve hugged anyone outside of them. We’ve visited my mom on her porch and through her window, to keep her and us safe, but every time we’re there I have to truly hold myself back from hugging her. Friends drove by our house for my daughter’s sixth birthday this week, and again, I had to steady myself in my chair not to run down the driveway and climb into their passenger window for a big hug. Even strangers out walking their dogs tempt my hugginess!

Right now, it may not be safe to hug your loved ones, and we know how difficult that is. But there’s one way we can safely give a hug. Pick up a pen, a stamp, a card, and an envelope — maybe some stickers, and pop that card (hug enclosed) in the mail.

One of our favorite ways to show we care, especially during this difficult season, is through sharing God’s #LoveWithCards. We want to encourage as many people as possible right now. And that’s why for every card you send, DaySpring is donating a card! Seriously! Whether they are cards you already have on hand, ones you’ve created yourself, or those you ordered from DaySpring, we hope you’re encouraging someone in this season with a card — and a safe hug. Just head here and tell us how many cards you’ve sent, and we’ll take care of the rest.

Giveaway:

To help you safely send a hug, we’ve got a beautiful set of cards to give away to one of YOU! This Studio 71 premium boxed card set includes ten cards of assorted designs and a gorgeous rose gold pen. To enter to win, just leave a comment and tell us how you’re giving safe hugs these days!

 

[bctt tweet=”Right now, it may not be safe to hug your loved ones, and we know how difficult that is. But there’s one way we can safely give a hug. #lovewithcards ” username=”incourage”]

Giveaway open to US addresses only, and will close on 4/27/2020. Winner will be notified via email.

When the Silencing of Your Schedule
Gets Your Attention

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In this season of social distancing, self-quarantining, and the silencing of our schedules, maybe the very thing we’ve desired — to hear God speak — is being given to each of us in a manner none of us preferred or saw coming.

One of the things every believer longs for is to hear God’s voice clearly. Is that true of you as it is for me? I struggle with the typical distractions to hear God clearly, but now most of those seem to be muted by a pandemic.

Did you ever hope and pray God would speak to you? Is there a prayer you’ve been praying for a long time and it seems as though God has been silent? Do you wish He would make Himself clear in a certain area of your life?

If we believe God really does work all things together for our good because we love Him, then we can believe God is working through the forced silence of our busy lives.

It’s hard for me to let go of plans, travel, schedules, and times with family and friends. But we have the opportunity to experience the things we’ve longed for and couldn’t figure out how to fit in before.

We can hear God’s voice more clearly because the noises of our daily lives have been silenced.

We have space to think of others besides ourselves. No longer is our excuse of being too busy to help fitting. We can fill up our time with binge watching, or we can use this awkward but precious time to listen to the voice of God.

In our silence, we can be like Samuel and ask God to speak, and then have the capacity to listen.

The silence will not feel normal or even right at first because we are used to loud and distracted lives. For some of us that is all we have ever known. But the silence of entire cities, neighborhoods, and homes is a gift where our prayers to hear from God can finally be answered if we let it.

Let’s not confuse the solitude of our surroundings with the silence of God. God is not silent in the pandemic or our personal situations. What we are facing every day and the impact it has on our lives can be overwhelming to each of us in unique and challenging ways.

But God can use the silencing of our schedules so we can hear Him clearly in our lives. We also now have the space to watch Him move and provide on our behalf.

God has allowed this silence in our lives for a brief season. We have a decision to make as His people: either look for the good in a very difficult situation and listen for His voice wholeheartedly, or try to fill up the silence with what feels most comfortable — the busy noise of the world that does not lead to a close relationship with Jesus.

When this pandemic is over and we are on the other side, I pray we all experience a revived faith and live in the words God speaks to us over the new few weeks and months.

Your silenced schedule can enable your heart to listen and make your life with Jesus better than before.

God, thank you for the silence and the interrupted schedule so we can listen to Your voice. Thank you for getting our attention and bringing our gaze back to You. God, we ask for Your forgiveness for allowing busyness and distraction to get in the way of hearing Your voice in our lives. We are listening now and want to be obedient to whoever You tell us to love. Please stop this pandemic and speak to us. Let us each pay close attention to Your words. Revive our hearts and create worldwide revival through Your words to us. Let us obey You now and once life resumes to a more normal health and pace. We wait for our hope is only in You.

 

[bctt tweet=”Let’s not confuse the solitude of our surroundings with the silence of God. God is not silent in the pandemic or our personal situations. -Stephanie Bryant:” username=”incourage”]

I Just Can’t Anymore

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The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.
Exodus 14:14 (NIV)

Here’s the promise for us today: God will fight for me when I just can’t anymore.

As the social distancing continues, we’re becoming more weary. We were made for human connection through presence, and the lack of it has caused grief and anxiety and anger for the loss of what was supposed to be this year. We pray and plead this will all be over soon, and exhausted, we crawl into bed only to start the same day again in the morning.

The road ahead is long, and when we just can’t anymore, God will fight for us. When we are at the end of our strength, when our prayers come out in groans and tears, when we wonder if we can even make it to the next day, He will sustain us. He will hear our feeble prayers, our angry prayers, our desperate prayers, and He will provide what we need for the day, like manna in the desert.

It’s okay if you just can’t anymore today. There is grace abundant for you, and He WILL fight for you.

 

[bctt tweet=”Here’s the promise for us today: God will fight for me when I just can’t anymore.” username=”incourage”]

What Is the Most Important Thing
You Want to Tell Your People?

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When the medical drama ER aired in the 90s, I had an infant and a two-year-old. I remember lying on our sofa nursing my son — right side, left side, right side, left — through ER, the news and, on occasional late nights, Leno and Letterman. (Being a human pacifier was a small price to pay for a baby who slept through the night.)

Anthony Edwards played the role of Dr. Mark Greene for the show’s first eight years. Wanting to spend more time with his family, he decided to leave, and I read he hoped to “go out in flames” (which took me right back to Top Gun and Goose’s tragic death). Instead, writers gave him the slow burn of terminal brain cancer.

In the episodes leading up to his death, Dr. Greene took his daughter to Hawaii to teach her important life lessons — how to drive, how to surf, and I really don’t recall much else, except his heartrending deathbed counsel. Laboring to speak, his performance was equal parts brutal and beautiful:

I was trying to figure out what I should’ve already told you but never have — something important, something every father should impart to his daughter. I finally got it: generosity. Be generous — with your time, with your love, with your life. Be generous, always.

It wasn’t what I expected him to say, and I found it unsettling. Perhaps the scene struck a nerve because I lost my own mother as a little girl, and there had been no last words or deathbed conversations. Maybe, I just couldn’t go there because I now had babies and couldn’t imagine having to tell them goodbye so young. Regardless, I felt like he should have offered some great spiritual insight, something more. Of course, it was television after all, and the series had no spiritual aspirations. Yet still, as a young parent, I judged his choice of counsel and found it lacking.

Now, many years later, having gained a lot of life experience and hopefully a little wisdom and maturity along the way, I find these dying words of a fictional doctor deeply spiritual.

Be generous with your time, love, and life. Always. Isn’t this what Jesus did (and does) for us?

Our world is so different now than when I saw that episode. We don’t have to endure commercials anymore. Neither do we have to wait for the six or eleven o’clock news. We don’t have to get up to change a channel (Ha!). Most of us have multiple devices through which we can stream entertainment or news 24/7, as opposed to one centrally located desktop computer.

More recently, we find ourselves in a world where we need to keep our distance for health’s sake. Most of us have suffered loss, and for some, a series of painful losses. I imagine we’ve all grown weary. Who could’ve predicted where we’d be today when we ushered in this new decade just a few months ago?

I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: The things that matter most have not changed. God is still God — eternal, unchangeable, all-powerful, all-knowing, and ever-present. He is holy, faithful, merciful, gracious, sovereign, righteous, and just. God is love. And, without a doubt, He is generous.

The triumphant message we’ve just celebrated during the Easter season and the perpetually good news of the gospel reveal God’s incomprehensible generosity. In Christ, God has “blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 1:3, emphasis added). 1 John 3:1 says, “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!” I love that the NIV uses the word “lavish” because it communicates an extravagant abundance I don’t see in other translations.

When we’re paying attention, it’s easy to see God’s considerable generosity throughout Scripture and in our lives. Sometimes His gifts come as a result of our obedience or surrender, and sometimes they’re simply given in the way a Father loves His children. I absolutely love and appreciate that we get to see God’s most generous act from both the Father and Son’s perspectives:

From John 3:16 (ESV), “For God so loved the world, that He gave his only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” The sort of sacrificial love God demonstrated in giving His only Son to take my place, to make atonement for my sin, and not just for me, but for all of us who follow Jesus, is unfathomable.

From 1 John 3:16 (ESV), “By this we know love, that He laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers.” Jesus knew what He was signing up for in the incarnation, and He did so willingly. Without hesitation, He gave His life so we could share in eternal life.

In the grandest gesture of generosity, sacrifice, and love the world has ever known, God gave His Son for us, and His Son gave His life for us. 

“Be generous” won’t likely be the last thing I tell my children, but I hope they’ve seen that modeled in our home and that they’ve taken the words that follow 1 John 3:16 to heart. But I do agree with Dr. Greene that it’s important. As we’re maturing in our faith and becoming more like Christ, we’ll naturally become more generous.

During this COVID-19 pandemic of world-wide proportions, the generous spirit of many has been on display. Front-line medical personnel risking their own health and lives, grassroots initiatives of volunteers sewing and giving away masks for those in need, neighbors checking in on neighbors, the Church rising up, united to minister however and wherever they can. Focusing on what we can do helps minimize the anxiety fueled by all the things beyond our control, and that begins with a spirit of generosity.

Will you or I know that our last words to the people we love are going to be our last words? I can’t answer that, but I do believe it’s important to remain current with your people so there’s nothing left unsaid between you. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, so let’s express our love, point others to Jesus, and say those important things we want our people to know now.

What is the last thing/most important thing you’d want to tell the people you love?
How have you seen generosity played out in your community?

 

[bctt tweet=”Focusing on what we can do helps minimize the anxiety fueled by all the things beyond our control, and that begins with a spirit of generosity. -@robindance:” username=”incourage”]

When It’s All Too Much

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Overwhelmed by sadness, I shut my laptop and my eyes. My chest is heavy with grief and fear. Although I planned to hop on Facebook for a few minutes to check on friends and family, my screen quickly filled with news that made my soul ache.

A friend shared a post from a friend whose husband has COVID-19 and is alone fighting for his life in the ICU. His lungs are filled with fluid; his wife is filled with fear.

Another friend shared that her eight-year-old came home from school in tears and asked, “Is my daddy going to get coronavirus because he’s Chinese?” The hate and disproportionate suffering Asian Americans are experiencing makes me furious and sad.

Then I saw a photo of an exhausted woman with tears streaming down her cheeks. A friend shared it, asking for prayer for this young mom who had tested positive for COVID-19. She has asthma and her fear of pneumonia is terrifying but so is going to the ER. If she gets admitted and doesn’t recover, she may never see her children again.

I am overwhelmed with sadness as I read each post, and my heart is now worried about our twenty-two-year-old son, Andrew, who also has asthma. He lives two and a half hours away. What if he gets hospitalized and doesn’t recover? What if we never see him again?

I don’t know what to do. 

I want to be strong enough to stay and sit in the pain with others who are suffering. I want to leave words of encouragement and prayers under each post. But I also want to get in my car and drive as far away as I can until I run out of gas and have to stop. 

When school first closed, we all thought this would only last a month or so. Staying home wasn’t a big deal to me after a year of battling undiagnosed chronic pain and sickness, stretches of anxiety-induced depression, a recent diagnosis of malignant melanoma on the back of my leg, and surgery to remove it.

The melanoma was gone, and I figured out the cause and cure for my chronic pain. Then news of coronavirus and a global pandemic hit.

Within a week our twenty-five-year-old son, Josh, was without work and income due to COVID-19. A few days later, Andrew called to tell us the venue for his May wedding is limiting them to ten guests, due to the new regulations. Suddenly, eighteen months of planning and their wedding-day dreams were being turned upside down.

It’s all too much! 

After reading through social media posts and worrying about my children, I have empathy and anxiety overload. I know God has not abandoned us, but I don’t know what to do with all that’s happening around me and in me.

I put my laptop on the bed and go downstairs to see what my husband is doing. We have a list of home projects that will be a good distraction, but J.J. isn’t where I expect him to be. Instead, he’s outside mowing the lawn.

I stand in the middle of our kitchen, looking out the window, not knowing what to do. I could call a friend or text the kids to see how they’re doing. I could start on our project list. I just want to do something!

I know that avoiding my feelings won’t make them go away, although I wish it would. I want the courage to be sad even when I am afraid I’ll get stuck there. I need to process all these messy thoughts and emotions with God. He knows better than I do what is going on inside my heart and soul. 

It’s all too much for me, but it’s not too much for God.

I walk back upstairs and sit in my favorite chair, open my journal and turn the pages of my Bible toward the back where I find Jesus waiting for me, inviting me to come and stay with Him. 

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” 

“Stay joined to me, and I will stay joined to you.” 

In her book, Stay, my friend Anjuli Paschall describes what this looks like: “The invitation is to crawl up into our Father’s lap, letting His arms wrap us up. We are like tired children at the end of the day, with our worn-out bodies and watery eyes, heads resting on His shoulder, listening as He whispers hope into our cracked hearts, ‘I’ve got you. . . . I love you. . . . I’m not letting you go. I am for you. I am not a checklist or burden or something to get done. I’ve only ever been about being with you.'”

Surrounded by countless concerns and needs we can’t possibly meet, there are days when it’s all too much.

What if, when we are tempted to escape or avoid it all, we stay instead of running away? What if we sat still in the hardest parts of our days and emotions and got quiet with Jesus? Could we listen to our hearts long enough to feel what we feel and let Jesus show us what we need?

God is the only One strong enough to carry the weight of the world on His shoulders. He can handle it all, the sadness and fear, the sorrow and pain. He sees what we can’t, and He reminds us we don’t have to make it all okay. 

How is your heart today, friend? How are you walking through
the times when it feels like it’s all too much?

 

I’m giving away a hardback copy of Stay: Discovering Grace, Freedom, and Wholeness Where You Never Imagined Looking! All the details on how to enter to win are here. Also, be sure to download my new free resource filled with encouraging promises and simple prayers to help you pull away from all that is pulling on you in this season of uncertainty and overwhelming concern.

 

[bctt tweet=”God sees what we can’t, and He reminds us we don’t have to make it all okay. -@ReneeSwope:” username=”incourage”]

If Anxiety Keeps Us Awake at Night

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I will bless the Lord who counsels me—
even at night when my thoughts trouble me.
I always let the Lord guide me.
Because he is at my right hand,
I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad
and my whole being rejoices;
my body also rests securely.
Psalm 16:7-9 (CSB)

We say we’re doing fine, and sometimes, we’re busy enough during the day to ignore the anxiety brewing underneath. But when night and quiet come and we lie in bed, the day gets reviewed like a highlight reel of what we didn’t do well. To-do lists loom over us, and every anxious thought yells at us to pay attention, to solve all the problems, and to do it right now.

It seems as though we can’t find any refuge at the end of a long day, but the psalmist reminds us that God is our refuge. He is our counselor, the One who can guide us to peace and give us peace. When stress gives our bodies no rest, we can turn to God who is our anchor when everything is out of our control.

Ask Him for His counsel, breathe in His peace, open your hands to surrender and trust, and rest deeply.

 

[bctt tweet=”God is our counselor, the One who can guide us to peace and give us peace. ” username=”incourage”]

Loving the Hard-Hearted Family Member

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This grown woman was hard as rock — an adult mean girl. Rude and disrespectful, hurtful and heartbreaking, her actions were made worse because of her target – her own mother. “She yells at her,” my friend said. “Her mom has Alzheimer’s, and when the mom forgets things or does something ‘wrong,’ her daughter just lets her have it, putting her down, screaming at her.” My friend then got quiet. “It breaks my heart.”

I listened, knowing one way to describe what she was witnessing – elder abuse, which depending on how far it goes can be ruled not just emotional assault but a crime. Yet such abuse isn’t the focus of this post.

Instead, I want to shine light on the hardened daughter’s heart issue: she is, sadly, a bully. Also, clearly, she is hurting. A lot of families have hurting bullies, and what do they need most? They need love.

Just ask King David. Yes, you probably already know his story.

David’s home life was something of a wreck. First came that mess with Bathsheba. Later, his son Amnon raped his half-sister Tamar, then disgraced her by rejecting her.

Then, enter Absalom. While taking the damaged Tamar into his home as a safeguard, he waited for his father David to rebuke Amnon. Instead, David did nothing, enraging Absalom, who took matters into his own hands – ordering his solders to kill Amnon, which they did.

Blood on his hands, Absalom still wasn’t satisfied. He cooked up a plot to take over David’s kingship, which didn’t end well, not for Absalom anyway. Later, when David was aging and weak, another son Adonijah also rebelled, but Solomon, as king, had Adonijah killed, securing his own reign.

Talk about family drama. David mourned it all, sobbing after Absalom’s death, “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom!”

But despite it all, David still loved his boy. And most families, indeed, still love their rebels, even the bullies.

Thus, what did David do? He prayed. And his prayer – as Absalom pursued him – offers an intriguing approach to handling family tugs of war, especially now during the angst of the ongoing virus battle, but also all year long.

Thus, David didn’t pray for a quick fix. Or, for a change of heart in his son. Instead, David did what any troubled kin member should do. He turned to his first love – his Hope, His help, our God. As David wrote:

I wait quietly before God, for my victory comes from him. He alone is my rock and salvation,
my fortress where I will never be shaken.
Psalm 62:1-2 (NLT)

David didn’t hurl up words about his maddening son. He also didn’t tussle with Absalom. He didn’t growl at the dinner table, argue politics, debate medical tactics, or trade barbs, toss out put downs, or stir up a shouting match.

Instead, for better or worse, David kept his focus on the Lord, reminding himself:

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

David put it this way in Psalm 63, “I lie awake thinking of you, meditating on you through the night. Because you are my helper, I sing for joy in the shadow of your wings” (v. 6-7). Declaring trust in God, David reminds us to focus our perspective on the One whose “strong right hand holds me securely” (v. 8).

While we hold on, we continue to pray for our family members – for all in our kin circle, whether estranged or easygoing, agreeable or hard-edged.

First, run to God. Yes, rest in Him. Indeed, hold onto Him. Then hang on as if life, and your family, depend on Him – because they do.

Thus, for your hardest family members, ask the Lord to bless them, to be awakened to His grace, mercy, love, power – and sweetness. Then, as you lay down your hurts or fears concerning your loved one at Jesus’ feet, remember this: leave them with Him.

 

[bctt tweet=”When we have bullies in our families, we must turn to our first love – our Hope, our help, our God. -@PatriciaRaybon:” username=”incourage”]

Finding Safe Spaces in the Midst of Racism

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It was just another day on Twitter. My feed, once populated with discussions on publishing, theology, and the upcoming election, was nothing but a dead scroll of COVID-19 updates. The rising confirmed cases. Celebrities who had contracted the virus. How to stay sane while quarantined. Some of the things I read were helpful. But other spaces of the Twitter-verse are filled with recurring racist attacks, and every time something new happened, somebody took it upon themselves to tell me and my friends to “go home” and that we, as Asians, need to own our complicity somehow.

Anti-Asian racism has been escalating in our country over the past few months, and with each passing day I have started to feel the visceral weight of it in my body. I’m fatigued. I find myself randomly in tears or wanting to pick a fight. Sometimes, I’ll wake up with my stomach twisted in a knot and the dull pain persists throughout the day. It’s the weighty burden of being an Asian American right now — a reality in which we must navigate the fears and threats surrounding the coronavirus while also being doubly scared for the contagion of racism that has ensued. This is my current reality.

And while some days I pursue activism and stand up for my fellow Asian brothers and sisters, other days I retreat. I make sure to get good sleep and play with my kids. I sneak away to my bedroom to read my Bible and pray. I talk on the phone with friends and hug my husband a little bit tighter. Having safe spaces like these to rest and heal is just as important as the activism.

Each of us have endured traumatic histories in our own way, and the racism that the coronavirus has stirred up is a reminder that many of us experience regular — even daily — assaults to our dignity. Whether you’ve been watching these horrors play out on social media or experiencing them personally, we all need to have safe spaces to retreat — spaces where we can step away, acknowledge and process the pains of racism, and find paths toward healing and resilience.

This is the model we see in Scripture. Time and again, men and women in both the Old and New Testament step away to find a safe place from the threats against their lives. Think of David and the many times he had to flee for his life from King Saul. Notably, he found solace in caves and remote spaces outside of the city. Think also of Elijah fleeing from Jezebel into the wilderness. He felt like he was completely alone and the whole world was against him, but it was also in the wilderness where God meets him. Jesus too stepped away, not just to get away from the masses but to also flee verbal and physical threats. Think of His night in the Garden of Gethsemane. He pulled away to meet with God. He knew He was about to enter a fire storm, so He sought His Father’s face for comfort.

There are many reasons why we need a physical space for retreat. We need them for our own physical, spiritual, and emotional safety. We need them so we can seek out God. Whether that’s our home, our bedroom, the park, or a nature trail, we need to know which spaces we can retreat to with the assurance of Matthew 1:23 that “God is with us” and that He will meet us in these places. These are spaces where we can find holistic rest – for us to close our eyes, go for a run, take care of our bodies, pull out a journal and reflect on our experiences, read our Bible and pray. It’s where we not only acknowledge the realities in our life but also lay them at Christ’s feet and cast our cares upon Him. When we step away from the threats and pains of this world, we can pray that God will comfort our broken hearts and heal and bind up our wounds as it says in Psalm 147:3.

When you’ve found that place to retreat, spend time asking yourself: What has been happening this week? What have I seen and heard? How has racism personally impacted me this week? How has it impacted my friends and community? How am I feeling right now? And what are good practices for soul care this week?

Write about it. Pray about it.  It’s okay that some of these answers will sting. It’s okay to let the hurt in. We need to make space to verbally process the realities of racism and its impact on us. But, sister, know that God sees you and He doesn’t want you to carry the burden of racial oppression alone. Lay it at His feet, and believe that when you pray, “Lord, heal me,” He will begin a process of healing within you.

 

[bctt tweet=”Know that God sees you and He doesn’t want you to carry the burden of racial oppression alone. -@drmichellereyes:” username=”incourage”]

This Is for You, One-of-a-Kind Mom

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We are the moms who hug, dance, and snuggle. We are the moms who get overwhelmed, whose snarls sometimes come easier than our smiles. We are the moms who live in the push-pull of exhaustion and joy, in the tumultuous world of feelings and guilt and giving all of ourselves.

We are the moms who pray our children will fly while a tiny part of our heart grieves their flight from us, because we are the moms who love those children with every fiber of our being. We’re not sure where they end and we begin, but we know we didn’t begin until they arrived.

We are the moms who work around the clock in a million different ways. Praying. Cooking. Cleaning up. Carpooling to school and dropping off at daycare. Guiding. Loving, always loving. Scolding and worrying. Kissing boo-boos and wiping tears. Breathing deep, in and out, over and over. Chasing their feet and their hearts. Answering emails in the middle of the night. Pulling them back and drawing them in and sending them out. Scrubbing toilets and remembering details and packing lunches and signing papers and pouring out.

We are the moms who love children we didn’t birth. We are the neighbors, aunties, sisters, friends, and church grandmas who love these kids as though they’re our own. We snuggle up during the sermon at church to beloved little ones and pass them hard candies to squelch the wiggles. We attend birthday parties and graduations and weddings, bearing gifts for these dear hearts, setting up tables and making food and then cleaning up at the end of the day. We rock little babies and help big kids pack for college, tearing up at the thought of them driving away. We light up when our phone dings and it’s a text from that precious high-schooler. We read stories and sing songs and carefully choose cards to pop in the mail for every holiday.

We are the moms who run on grace and caffeine. Who build a meal off of the scraps pilfered from kids’ plates. Who go through more coffee shop drive-throughs than we care to admit. Who are exhausted from being “on” all day at work, and coming home to be “on” all night. We drive through McDonald’s for milk because we’re out at home and just cannot drag ourselves into the actual grocery store. Who pay for a latte in change dug out from between the minivan seats. Who cannot make it to church without bickering with our family on the drive. Who are consistently seven minutes late to every appointment. Who perpetually lose socks to the washing machine, and have been known to purchase new underwear instead of washing the pairs we already own. Who take our alone time seriously and guard it fiercely— just like we do our kids.

We are the moms who long for more. More grace. More patience. More coffee. More time (always more time). More space—in home and heart. More money. More sleep. More Christ in us. More life in our days. More quiet.

At the same time, we are the moms who long for less. Less laundry. Less fighting. Less yelling. Less clutter. Less selfishness. Less guilt. Less busy. Less stuff. Less dust. Less hustle.

We are the moms who sit in the hallway in tears during bedtime, drained. The moms who sit in empty houses in tears because there are no more babies to tuck in at bedtime. We are the moms who ache for those we’ve lost, for those we’ve wanted, for those we’ve asked for, for those whom we’ve begged God about and bruised our knees in earnest prayer. For the babies we couldn’t carry. For the children we’ve lost to heaven and red tape. For the grown children we couldn’t hold on to as they flew our coop to make their lives. For way-wards and prodigals and could’ve-beens.

We love this life even when we don’t like it very much. We love these kids with all of our being — even when we may not like them very much.

We thank God for the gift of love He gives in the form of sticky hands, flown coops, late nights, early mornings, cards in the mail, texts sent, calls placed, and prayers whispered.

We are these moms, and this book is for us all. May you find yourself and someone you love amidst these pages. May you be inspired, uplifted, refreshed, and renewed to go forth and love those kids. This book is for you, one-of-a-kind mom!

This is an excerpt from the introduction of A Mother’s Love by Anna Rendell.

You can now purchase A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom wherever books are sold! We know these days are full of the unknown, often worry, and sometimes fear. Send a copy to a friend as a blessing in what could be a dreary day, and keep another copy to page through yourself when you need to take a moment to recenter and encourage your heart.

A Mother’s Love is filled with stories from the (in)courage community, brief devotions, Scripture, beautiful artwork, lined pages for your reflection, and Biblical encouragement. It’s sure to help any daughter give a tangible expression of love to her mom, and allow any woman to share a meaningful gift with a mother-figure who has been impactful in her life, a new mom in her circle of friends, or a close loved one facing the joys and challenges of motherhood.

Let’s celebrate all the mother-figures in our lives. Get your copy of A Mother’s Love today!

 

[bctt tweet=”We are the moms who live in the push-pull of exhaustion and joy, in the tumultuous world of feelings and guilt and giving all of ourselves. – @annaerendell in #amotherslovebook: ” username=”incourage”]

We Are Not Without Help

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Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy
and find grace to help us in our time of need.
Hebrews 4:16 (NIV)

Here’s the promise for today: God will help me in my time of need.

The smallest, simplest of prayers we can pray right now is Help, God. Our cry for help doesn’t fall on deaf ears and a hardened heart. It falls in front of the gentle presence of God, who aches and grieves with us. Just as He answered the Israelites’ cries for deliverance, help, and provision, He is the same now as He was then. God wants to meet us in our time of need, so let’s come to Him daily asking for help because He is sure to answer.

 

[bctt tweet=”Here’s the promise for today: God will help me in my time of need. #promiseoverpanic” username=”incourage”]

Peace in the Midst of the Storm

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I thought I was fine.

Sure, the whole world seems to have turned upside down on itself over the past month. And yes, having four kids home all day, every day, while two grown-ups try to work and manage homework isn’t ideal. And, yes, I’ve been a little under the weather — likely a random virus, nothing serious. But I’m holed up at home to be on the safe side.

I was fine, totally fine. So I thought.

And then after a long day of work and another hour making a home-cooked dinner, one unnamed thirteen-year-old made one too many critical comments, and I went from okay to out-of-control.

So maybe I’m not so fine after all.

Life has been hard lately with very little rest and recovery. There’s lots of tension and anxiety and chaos. Adults who struggle to physically get all the things done in a twenty-four-hour day are being followed by children who gripe and complain because they have no understanding of all that hangs in the balance. And then there’s the unrelenting news and ever-changing realities, none of which last long enough for any of us to find some solid ground and get our footing.

We’re like too many passengers, crammed into a too-small dingy, thrust out into the wide-open sea and then caught in a furious and terrifying storm:

One day Jesus said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side of the lake.” So they got into a boat and set out.
As they sailed, he fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped,
and they were in great danger. The disciples went and woke him, saying,
“Master, Master, we’re going to drown!”
Luke 8:22-24 (NIV)

I understand the disciples’ panic, their ability to go from okay to out-of-control in the span of seconds. My squall may not come in the form of rain and wind, but it’s just as terrifying, just as damaging. And more often than I want to admit, I’m the source of its sting — in my impatient responses and curt replies, my critical remarks and unforgiveness. When the tension and anxiety and chaos rise, my peace and self-control go down.

And you want to know something else? The funny thing about tension and anxiety and chaos is that the first things we often let go of are the things we need the most:

Quiet
Prayer
Meditation
Bible reading
Solitude

It seems there isn’t time for it, not enough energy for it.

A few days ago, I realized once again how insecure, irritable, and overwhelmed I felt. It wasn’t so much about world events, moody teenagers, and this cold I can’t shake. It was more about where I was putting my focus in the middle of it all.

I was so caught up in the chaos of the storm I forgot that Jesus was in my boat. And if I wanted to find a way to stay afloat, I needed to remember the only One who could offer me true peace.

So today’s agenda?

Inner quiet (because my house will be anything but quiet)
Prayer
Scripture
Meditation
Thoughtfulness
Rest

“Where is your faith?” He asked the disciples (vs. 25). He asks the same of you and me.

And for today, I remember that although my world rocks and the wind roars, my faith is with Jesus. He sits in my boat, even while the storm grows. That means my Peace is with me, right here, right now, no matter what comes.

 

[bctt tweet=”Our Peace is with us, right here, right now, no matter what comes. -@MicheleCushatt:” username=”incourage”]