Surrender Your Canvas to the Father, the Artist

Surrender Your Canvas to the Father, the Artist

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Some years ago, before I ministered through writing and art, I had some slightly darker days — days where I couldn’t get up from bed because of the deep sadness in my heart, days where absolutely nothing piqued my interest.

It was on one of those days the thought of painting made me sit up straight. I voiced the idea to my father who was eagerly waiting for me to smile again. He immediately volunteered to drive me to the nearest art store to purchase some paint. On reaching there, I picked up a box of watercolours, a palette, and a brush even though I had no idea what I wanted to paint. My parents were hopeful and thrilled that I had finally mustered up the energy to leave the bed, my room, and the house.

On reaching home, I set out to work right away. I hadn’t painted in a while, so I was rusty. After some time, I realized the hues I was mixing were the same as my mood — negative, unhappy, and hopeless. I remember the feeling as each colour ignited the blank canvas. I didn’t feel better as I thought I would. I looked at what I had done and realized how ugly it looked. I felt more miserable than when I had started. I threw my brush aside and went back to sleep. I did not want to paint anymore. My father sighed in sadness. Those weren’t the best days. But it got better. I got better. I recovered. Jesus put joy, hope and peace back in my heart.

But it wasn’t until a year later, I discovered the canvas I attempted to paint tucked away in a corner while I was cleaning up my room. I opened it up expecting a half blank canvas, but instead, I found it completed and coloured in. I stared in disbelief at the canvas I thought was thrown aside and incomplete. Then it dawned on me — my father had finished up the canvas I couldn’t complete that day. Tears came to my eyes as I kept staring at the completed canvas. There was a world of difference between my strokes and my father’s intentional strokes. My father’s side looked way better.

As I stood there with all those flashbacks and memories, I had a revelation from Heaven. This is exactly what Jesus wants of me. He wants me to surrender the canvas of my life to Him when it’s too hard to do it on my own. When I cannot figure out the next stroke or colour I should choose, my Father in Heaven volunteers to do it for me. He will finish the work I never had the capability to even start. If only I had surrendered the brush, if I had relinquished control and let Him paint, my life would have looked so beautiful. But here I am, learning only years later what a wonderful artist Jesus is after completely messing up my life.

Friend, if you think you have made a mess out of your life, surrender your canvas. Your Father will finish the painting you couldn’t. He will write your story, and the colours will be beautiful. My dark days were followed by a beautiful display of colour I could never have imagined or achieved on my own. Some days will be filled with darker hues and some days will be brighter, but the Father knows exactly what colour needs to be thrown in to make a beautiful painting. Every colour will work together to create something glorious you cannot see at this moment. The completed work will be beautiful, and it will be your Father’s doing. Surrender the brush and the canvas. Let the Artist do what He does best.

Give God the right to direct your life, and as you trust him along the way you’ll find he pulled it off perfectly!
Psalms 37:5 (TPT)

 

[bctt tweet=”Let the Artist do what He does best in your life. It will be beautiful. -Neeba Abraham:” username=”incourage”]

Do You Value All People?

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I was sitting in a quaint neighborhood café with an old friend, drinking a steaming cup of chai with a Latin twist, and catching up when she suddenly became serious and asked, “How do I make more friends from other cultures?” Amid a conversation about marriage and babies, her question came out of nowhere, but I understood.

Her family had just recently moved across the country to a new city and a new home. They needed something fast and had found an apartment with all the modern flares within an affordable price. The only problem, though, was that everyone in their neighborhood was of the same ethnicity and socio-economic class. They all did, lived, and breathed the same things, but my friend wanted more. She didn’t want to live in a bubble. She didn’t want to be blinded by her own monocultural community to the lives, needs, and joys of other peoples, nor did she want to live a life in which she didn’t have differing ideas and expressions and lifestyles to challenge and stretch her own. And as one of her sole minority friends, I was glad she had asked me for help.

So, we pushed our mugs aside and pulled out our Bibles because if ever there was a model for how to connect with people of other cultures, it is found in the life and ministry of Jesus. This brown-skinned Jewish man seamlessly related with both Jews and Gentiles, with people who shared His ethnicity and people who didn’t, and He beckons us to follow after Him.

The gospels paint a picture of Jesus engaging in a diverse range of cross-cultural relationships that are both rich and beautiful. We see Him speaking to a Samaritan woman at a well in John 4. He heals the servant of a Roman centurion in Matthew 8, and He speaks with a group of Greeks during Passover in John 12, among many others. In each of these encounters, He always seems to know what to say, how to connect with people, and how to make them feel loved. He dines with people, gives them food, and tells them about the everlasting nourishment that comes from God alone. He cares for the sick, walks miles to weep with those who weep, and calls people He’s never met “daughter.”

For Jesus, it was never about the cultural experience. It was always about the people of those cultures.

I think this is where we often get caught up. We love breakfast tacos and queso, going on mission trips to Central America and Africa, wearing clothes with indigenous patterns, and listening to hip hop, but we don’t have a single African American, Mexican American, or Native American friend. We’ve prioritized our own individualism and the desire for unique experiences over making relationships with real people, and that’s the problem.

I’m not saying you can’t go on vacation to a country outside the USA. Sure, even Jesus traveled throughout His life. He reclined on different sofas and ate different foods, but that was never the end goal. His purpose, always, was to go after men and women, to meet them where they are, listen to their stories, and show them His love. Jesus Himself says in John 12:32, “I will draw all people to myself.” It didn’t matter how far away someone was or how inconvenient the travel would be, He put a precedence on reaching out to the people around him, no matter their culture, ethnicity, gender, socio-economic status or religious affiliation because Jesus valued all people.

This is the lesson we learn from Jesus: We must value spending time with people that are different from us.

Want to know where to start with cross-cultural relationships? Start by valuing every single person from every single culture as special and important, for no other reason than the fact that they are made in the image of God. We don’t value someone because of what they can do for us, how they look, or how they make us feel. We don’t value immigrants, as some people think, because they clean our homes and hotels. We don’t value Indians simply because many of them are making advancements in our science and tech industries. We don’t value Mexicans just because we like taquerias. We value people — all people — because God made us all and is drawing all of us to Himself.

Practically, this means we need to go out of our way to spend time in spaces that are ethnically and culturally different from us. If you have a Somali neighborhood, make it a point to regularly shop for groceries at their supermarket, and while there, talk to people, smile at other shoppers, and find a way to make friends with the workers. Consider taking your kids to a playground in a different part of town, a part where they’ll rub shoulders with children of other ethnicities. The same thing could be said for where you get your hair cut, where you work out, where you go to church, and even where your kids go to school. Think of the main ethnic demographics in your community and seek them out to show them you value their lives, their stories and that you want to be their friend. This is what Jesus did; let’s be like Him and do likewise.

 

[bctt tweet=”This is the lesson we learn from Jesus: We must value spending time with people that are different from us. -@drmichellereyes:” username=”incourage”]

Kingdom Ways Here on Earth

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For the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit.
Romans 14:17 (CSB)

When I log on to social media, I am quickly reminded how much I’m polarized by politics and theology. My instinct is to jump in and either defend or attack depending on the situation. It’s as if God’s commandments for how we’re to lovingly treat one another don’t apply to our political and theological differences. I don’t want my theo-political allegiances to override my neighborly obligations. But how?

In 1 John 4:20, we read, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For the person who does not love his brother he has seen cannot love the God he has not seen.”

While many of us wouldn’t want to describe our posture toward another as hateful, how many of us harbor contempt, dislike, or ill will toward our political opponents? If we do, honesty demands we admit we are guilty of hate. It’s only in confessing our sin of hatred that we will be healed and set free in Christ to better love others.

It makes one wonder how on earth Jesus’ twelve disciples grew in their love for one another given the likelihood they held different political views. I have a hunch that through the power of the Holy Spirit, fellowship with one another, suffering together, observing Jesus’ life, and by personally experiencing Christ’s love, they saw that their obligation to love one another was more important than their political disagreements.

As they spent time with Jesus, they discovered the nature of the kingdom is not centered on political and theological tribalism, one-upping one another, or constant division. Instead as Paul says in Romans 14:17b, the kingdom of God is characterized by “righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit” — what they saw in Jesus.

Let’s be intentional with our words, speaking words that encourage and uplift those around us, including those who may believe differently.

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

 

 

[bctt tweet=”It’s only in confessing our sin of hatred that we will be healed and set free in Christ to better love others. -@MarlenaGraves:” username=”incourage”]

Living a Legacy of Faith

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Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by God’s will, for the sake of the promise of life in Christ Jesus:

To Timothy, my dearly loved son.

Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.

I thank God, whom I serve with a clear conscience as my ancestors did, when I constantly remember you in my prayers night and day. Remembering your tears, I long to see you so that I may be filled with joy. I recall your sincere faith that first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and now, I am convinced, is in you also.

Therefore, I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.
2 Timothy 1:1-7 (CSB)

The legacy of Timothy’s faith and ministry started first in his grandmother, two generations before him. We cannot underestimate the long-lasting power and impact of the Holy Spirit when we see how the good work that began in them continued on in Timothy and to many more through his ministry.

As women, as grandmothers, mothers, aunts, sisters, as leaders, let’s remember that what seems like ordinary work can sow seeds for God’s kingdom to break through, now and in generations after us. Let’s not despise the mundane but embrace every small task He sets before us and live out our faith with a spirit of power, love, and sound judgment.

Lord, let Your kingdom come through us.  

 

[bctt tweet=”As women, as leaders, let’s remember that what seems like ordinary work can sow seeds for God’s kingdom to break through, now and in generations after us. ” username=”incourage”]

You’re Already ‘The Best’ with God

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The news dropped out of nowhere. Then it embarrassed me. Then it shocked me. I’m a simple working writer – neither famous nor important. I just wrestle with this curious work – writing – and seek to serve with it. Still, to be honest, I wanted more. As petty as it sounds, I longed to write a “best seller.” Make it happen, Lord, I actually prayed that. (Can you imagine?) Yet, it didn’t happen.

So, over time, I must’ve stopped worrying about it. Come morning every day, I just put my hand to the plow and kept working, slowly noticing the work becoming its own joy.

Then, out of the blue, a few days ago, something did happen. And I felt confused. Unsure? You, too, may have experienced the odd surprise when a longtime prayer gets answered. The shock can give us pause. Do we tell God thank you? Are we ready for it? I wasn’t sure at first how to react.

In fact, it was an ordinary day. So, I was gobsmacked to discover that one of my humbling books – a devotional written nearly ten years ago — was now a “best seller.”

Nobody called me. The heavens didn’t open. My publisher didn’t text. Angels didn’t sing. Instead, a friend asked what devo to give her daughter for Christmas. So, daring to suggest mine, I copied and shared a link to my publisher and there it was – a happy banner next to my book with two words: best seller.

I gasped. And, yes. I jumped from my desk and did a happy dance. Then I hurried to tell my husband. He gave me a thumbs up — two thumbs up, actually. “Great job, sugar pie!”

Then I went back to work.

That’s because as soon I saw the best-seller tag, I stopped still to realize this utter truth: We’re already “the best” with God. That’s how He see us.

Yes, me. Yes, you. With God as our Helper, we’re already His winners, which surely sounds like a cliché. But it’s real and it’s true. With Him, we’ve always been His number one — this year, last year, every year. So, all those wasted times worrying, while I skulked around watching other authors stand tall in the spotlight with their famous books, envying their “success,” I forgot to remember the Lord’s promise about me and my humble work: “You are precious and honored in my sight” (Isaiah 43:4).

That’s right. The Lord thinks I’m the bee’s knees. No better yet, He says I’m the apple of His eye. (Psalm 17:8, Zechariah 2:8) That’s how He sees me. And you, too.

“You are mine,” the Lord says (Isaiah 43:1). “I have summoned you by name.”

Indeed, He gave His sinless life for us.

So, never mind that we’re not “famous” or big time or that a goal remains afar. Never mind that our ministries, church work, or day-to-day labor isn’t a social-media sensation with zillions of follows. Never mind that our books or missions or brands haven’t made a splash. Here’s what matters: “You are precious and honored in my sight.”

So, we’re already loved, already good, already saved, already blessed, already regarded by God and held by Him in high esteem. We’re already His best.

Clinging to that truth, I can resist the struggle to strain more to be even better or to toil for more accolades or to work harder to promote my “winning” book.

In Christ, we can lay down such burdens. He already did the best work, accomplishing for us all that we could seek to achieve – plus all that matters most. So, we’re already saved, already good, already blessed, already best.

Reflecting on this good news, I considered adding some wise writer takeaway to this little story. Instead, I’ll share again that one Bible truth I needed to remember all along.

“You are precious and honored in my sight.”

As this New Year rumbles into itself, that’s the perspective to walk in and know. He sees you, and He is pleased.

So, we’re already the best. But should we be surprised? Our God Himself is great.

 

[bctt tweet=”We’re already His best, so we can resist the struggle to strain more to be even better or to toil for more accolades. -@PatriciaRaybon:” username=”incourage”]

The Unexpected Gain of Giving Yourself Away

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It was my dream for as long as I can remember, back when a girl imagined true love and a house full of children:

I’d be the mom who baked homemade chocolate chip cookies for her kids after school.

Thus, when I married, it didn’t take long to set up a mixer and buy butter, sugar, and vanilla. I filled my cabinets with all the makings for magic. Even before children entered the story, I baked for my husband with all the love I had in my heart.

When divorce and remarriage changed the ingredients, adding angst to our family mix, I rolled up my sleeves and doubled both my recipes and my love. Day after day I baked, serving up cookie offerings to both children and adults, all of us who mourned our losses.

Seeing my children with cookies in hand, the neighbor kids started to come over (and their parents). Then, the piano students I gave lessons to (and their parents). When my husband started his own business, I baked cookies by the hundreds for new vendors and clients. Not to mention teachers, coaches, and friends and loved ones enduring a crisis.

Soon, I was known as the woman who always had cookies on the kitchen counter. Visitors stopped knocking at the front door, knowing they could walk in whenever they needed a fix. Once a neighbor mentioned buying me a Krispy-Kreme-like sign, one I could light up whenever I pulled a new batch from the oven.

“That way everyone knows when to come over,” she said with a grin.

She might’ve been joking, but I secretly dreamed of such a gift. What a thought! Baking was my way of delivering love on a plate, a small offering of joy and presence for those who needed it most.

I must’ve made thousands of cookies over the span of close to twenty years, far more than most will make in a lifetime. I didn’t mind. Not at all. It was one of my greatest delights during those twenty years of life.

But then a crazy thing called “cancer” took my tongue and my taste.

Afterwards, doctors tried to be optimistic, encouraging me with comments like “At least you’re alive!” They asked me questions like “Can you taste anything?” Every time I answered the same: “A little, but nothing sweet.”

They shrugged and moved on. In their minds, losing taste was nothing compared to gaining life. But they didn’t know about the neighborhood kids, the warm chocolate chip cookies, and the sign I wanted to hang in my window.

They didn’t know.

It’s been difficult for me, learning to live without one of my five senses. You don’t realize how much you savor a thing until you have less of it — or none at all.

Even so.

Recently a dear friend lost a close family member. I ached for her loss but didn’t know what to do. So I got to work in the kitchen, stirring up several dishes to fill up her grief-emptied family. In addition, I baked up my famous, from-scratch chocolate chip cookies.

Then, while the cookies baked, I stopped.

Closed my eyes.

Inhaled.

In a moment, memories of my children, bursting through the front door after school and running for the kitchen counter, warmed me.

I opened my eyes and smiled. Then I got back to work, feeling only the slightest twinge of melancholy at what I knew I was missing. I expected grief and self-pity, maybe a twinge of bitterness at my unfair losses.

Instead, I experienced something more exquisite than the taste of a warm chocolate chip cookie straight from the oven:

Love, an overwhelming wave of sweet, tender love.

My eyes brimmed, my heart pounded, and warmth traveled from my feet up through my chest.

Why? Because healing comes when we choose to love from the place of loss.

I have two questions for you, questions that will likely make you uncomfortable but hold the power of great hope:

  1. What have you lost that you cannot recover? I’m not so naive as to think my silly little loss comes close to comparing with the losses so many of you mourn. I know I can’t possibly fathom the loss of my legs or burying my child. The mere thought makes it hard to breathe. But whatever it is, name it. Acknowledge it. Put it right there on the kitchen counter where you can see it for what it is.
  2. Now, what might you gain by giving it away? In other words, how could that loss become an uncommon companionship to someone else’s pain? There are scores of people who need to know they’re not alone. You have something to offer that so few others have, something hidden beneath the grave of your grief that promises resurrection and new life.

For others, yes. But also for you. Jesus said it this way:

For whoever wants to save their life will lose it,
but whoever loses their life for me will save it.
Luke 9:24 (NIV)

This is the unexpected gain of giving yourself away. It doesn’t mean the losses won’t hurt, and you might feel a wave of anger or sadness now and then. But there is a sweetness found in loving from our lack that can’t be found anywhere else. And, even better, healing happens when the grave of our losses becomes our life-giving offerings of love.

 

[bctt tweet=”Healing comes when we choose to love from the place of loss. -@MicheleCushatt:” username=”incourage”]

Seeing the Full Picture When We Look Back

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When darkness tries to roll over my bones
When sorrow comes to steal the joy I own
When brokenness and pain is all I know
I won’t be shaken, no, I won’t be shaken
 “Stand in Your Love” by Josh Baldwin

I sang along to the worship song, not mindlessly but not completely focused either. Suddenly, tears began running down my face, and my brain registered the words my heart was already wrestling. Standing in the dark auditorium in the first church service of the year, I remembered something that hadn’t made my best-of list for the previous year, my Christmas letter, or my annual photobook for the grandparents.

Like everyone, I’d spent the past few weeks reflecting on the year, gathering up all my highlights and favorites, my blessings and gratitude. Never one to pretend like life is perfect, I’m usually quick to acknowledge the struggles I’m facing. (Like the year that my daughter broke her leg and spent nearly ten months in some form of a cast? Incredibly difficult, which I told every single person who asked and many who didn’t.) But who wants to hear about the year that my faith was, in fact, deeply shaken?

You can search every shelf, but you won’t find a card that shouts, “Joy to the Lord! This year I doubted God!”

The truth of 2019 for me was that for the first time in my life, I questioned God’s goodness. I questioned His sovereignty. I questioned my own adherence to beliefs that weren’t doing a thing in the face of a particular grief.

I also took my family to Disney World! And published a book! And celebrated my twentieth wedding anniversary!

How could all of that be true at the same time? In the same year? How could a big, wonderful, beautiful year also contain some serious anguish and doubt that shook me to my core? How could one small season hold the weight of enormous blessings and crushing burdens?

I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I know it’s true. Last year was ugly and beautiful, disappointing and delightful, and surprising in the best and worst ways. All of the amazing things that happened aren’t less true or less valuable because of my struggle. And the fact that I wrestled with my faith in a new and painful way wasn’t reduced by the fact that I experienced a lot of joy. Our lives are full of both joy and pain — often at the very same time. And that’s okay. We can acknowledge both. We can hold both.

And we can worship God through both.

I’m thankful that song reminded me of the hard parts of last year, because in my efforts to choose joy and focus on the positive through the holidays and my year-end reflections, I’d left out half the story. The good parts of the year are actually richer because of the thread of pain and doubt and struggle that winds through the weeks and months. Because only by seeing the good and the hard intertwined and overlapping do I see how faithful God has been to me.

He’s not just here when I’m happy. He’s not just here when I’m grateful. He’s not just here when I’m rock solid, believing with all my heart. He’s here, always, no matter what. He’s here no matter how much my circumstances, my life, my heart change. He’s here, and He never changes.

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.
Hebrews 13:8 (CSB)

Last year was a full year, and the Lord was there for every good, bad, and in-between bit of it. And I won’t forget it.

How was God faithful to you last year?

 

[bctt tweet=”He’s not just here when I’m rock solid, believing with all my heart. He’s here, always, no matter what. -@marycarver:” username=”incourage”]

You ARE Winning Your Race!

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Recently, I was given an assignment:

Ask a few people who know you well what they think your biggest strengths are and where they see you being brave in the midst of what you’re dealing with.

Honestly, I was afraid to pose the question to those closest to me. My reservation was not because of what they might or might not say. My friends are beautiful people, so I knew they would respond with encouraging words. I was reluctant to ask them the question because I didn’t want to interrupt their day. My husband is a busy businessman. His time is reserved for clients all over the nation. My friend is a teacher at an elementary school, whose attention is solely focused on the little learners in her class. My other friend is an artist and work-from-home-mom of four, whose care is in constant demand. And my mom, well I am still amazed at how she is less available as a retiree than she was when she worked a full-time job.

I didn’t think that they should be disrupting the rhythm and demands of their day on my behalf. “They don’t have time,” I thought. And I didn’t believe that I was worthy of their encouraging words. So even as I write this, I have no idea why I actually followed through with the assignment (probably because I am a bit of a perfectionist who has to finish what she’s started — classic enneagram one!). So, at the beginning of the day, I quickly texted the question and hit send.

“Well at least I did the assignment,” I thought. I resolved that if no one replied, I would be fine with that. After all, what right did I have to require their time and attention.

The school teacher responded so quickly that I was baffled by how fast she must have read the text and typed her response. It read: 

Your biggest strength is your ability to teach and reach all levels. You do this with such care, and you are super prepared. You have such grace for the “ignorant.”

A few minutes later, the artist-mom-of-four replied:

I think your strength is your ability to transmit the knowledge and peace God has placed within you. This comes across to many as grace, acceptance, wisdom, and a willingness to hear someone’s heart. This connects to how you are brave because you are willing to show this same ability in stressful situations and toward difficult people. This gives you a strong voice in the darkness, but it is not shouting with hate but holding steadfast with love and humility. 

By the afternoon, my mom had texted back with an abridged response, indicating her level of busyness:

Greatest strengths: love for God and all mankind, positive, focused, honest, determined, sincere.

Brave: stepping out in faith. Trusting God.

And in a fashion that is truly my husband, he slid into home base just before bed time with this response:

Strengths: Learning new things, work ethic, caring for people that others discard (and other nice things I’ll keep to myself)

Brave: You are out on a limb doing things that are brand new to you. Connecting all the dots, even the ones outside of your natural strengths and interests.

It was difficult for me to read their words. In the midst of all the challenging and new endeavors that have chased me down and overtaken me, I imagined that those closest to me could only see a whirlwind of anxiety, fear, and panic occupying the space where Lucretia once existed. I have felt like a mess and was sure that is how I was perceived. But their words described the woman I long to be, a woman I would admire and celebrate.

So, I paused to admire her. I looked at how she’d said yes to hard things far outside of her comfort zone. I reflected on how her unconventional methods — the ones that got her rejected by the status quo — had afforded her seats at tables that had been longing to host her. The cost had been significant, but she was confident that the rewards would be exponentially greater. I rejoiced that her fear was overshadowed and outweighed by her courageous love. And this woman, the one those closest to me described, knew that she was not alone. She knew that she was simply an expression of a loving and generous God.

Although I had been reluctant to reach out for them, I paused and considered the gift I’d been given through their affirmations. I needed to gaze at their picture of me. I inhaled. I decided to believe them. I exhaled, refreshed with a new mindset. Where I could only see struggle and exhaustion, friends saw my race marked with endurance and winning.

Now its your turn: Ask a few people who know you well what they think your biggest strengths are and where they see you being brave in the midst of what you’re dealing.

 

[bctt tweet=”Run your race with courage. -@brownicity:” username=”incourage”]

The Gift of a Normal Day

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I stood in front of the oven peeling bacon out of the package and laying out strips on the cookie sheet. My older kids had just jumped on the school bus, and the youngest slept upstairs. After sliding the sheet into the oven, I sat at the kitchen table and opened emails. Just a normal day.

I used to despise normal days. They seemed as colorful as mud. I wanted to do something impactful — not write emails, wash laundry, cook bacon.

After clearing my inbox, I grabbed my phone off the counter and opened Facebook. My feed started with a picture of a friend’s child in the hospital — with leukemia. I scrolled down. An image of a friend’s Honda totaled (but thank God she walked away). I kept scrolling. A picture of a smoothie my friend drank for lunch.

God, thank you for this normal day.

Normal days are a gift — days when healthy kids eat Cheerios before heading out the door, when adults have jobs to drive to, and laundry stains remind us of the chocolate ice cream on Friday night. God created our days from the beginning to be gifted with the rhythms of normal. The sun rises and sets. The body wakes and sleeps.

When God formed Adam and Eve from the dust of the earth, He placed them in the Garden to steward creation. Talk about normal as mud. But when sin entered the world, so also did death, disease, kids with childhood cancer, and husbands who leave.

The oven timer dinged, and I pulled out my crispy bacon, placed a few pieces on a plate, grabbed my coffee, and sat at the kitchen table. In the light of all the chaos in the world, normal moments now seem holy.

My mind wandered to Jesus. What did His normal life look like as Savior of the world? For thirty years — much like that of anyone else in the ancient Near East, I supposed. I imagined Him as a boy running down the path straight through town, playing tag with neighborhood friends. I envisioned Him washing His hands before Mary served fig stew. Maybe as an adult, He spent His afternoons carving wood — shaving by shaving — as a master carpenter, following Joseph’s trade. If normal life was sacred enough for Jesus, maybe it is for us as well.

His miracles restored people to normalcy. When Jesus healed a little girl, she ate (Mark 5:41-43). Jesus didn’t tell her to leave everything and live an “extraordinary” life. Or how about Peter’s mother who lay ill? Jesus healed her, and she immediately returned to normal housework, serving those in her home (Luke 4:38-39). When Lazarus rose from the dead by Jesus’ words, he testified to the miracle, yes, but he also returned to his life — whatever work he performed before the healing.

If Jesus used His miraculous powers to heal the lame, dead, and sick — only for them to return to regular rhythms of life — shouldn’t we rethink the gift of a normal day? Not every day will include heal-the-blind moments. Goodness, Moses watched sheep for forty years in the desert before ever seeing a burning bush only to return to the desert for another forty years helping fickle people get along and obey God.

What does your normal day look like? Maybe normal for you (like me) right now is raising kids. But maybe you care for an aging parent, work long hours at the office launching a new product, or clean houses.

Sometimes God leads us in seasons that are extraordinary, exciting, new. But most of the time, God leads us through “normal.” Get up. Go to work. Come home. Go to sleep. Repeat.

Some seasons of normal hurt — like the months I visited my dad during my lunch break as I watched him weaken from brain cancer. The day he died was one of the worst non-normal days of my life.

And those days of extraordinary bliss? Yes. They are beautiful. Marrying my best friend in the presence of three hundred of our favorite people on a warm Southern California night, then taking off for seven days in Maui? Amazing. But then after the honeymoon? We went back to our day jobs — the gift of normal.

I finished my cup of coffee and bacon, closed my computer, and walked upstairs to my daughter’s room. She greeted me with, “Mama, it’s you.” A normal greeting from a normal little girl on a normal Wednesday. And the rest of the day was normal, too.

 

[bctt tweet=”If Jesus used his miraculous powers to heal the lame, dead, and sick—only for them to return to regular rhythms of life—shouldn’t we rethink the gift of a normal day? -@Seana_S_Scott:” username=”incourage”]

Happy Launch Day to
For All Who Wander!

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Faith is tidy and neat for some, never unwavering and always so sure. And maybe that’s how you used to feel, but now your once-sure beliefs are less certain, the prescribed faith of your youth no longer enough.

Perhaps life isn’t turning out like you thought it would. Heartbreak and challenges stir doubt. Sunday school answers fall short. God seems distant.

If you’ve grown up in the church or identified as a Christian for any length of time even, there’s a good chance you’ve wrestled with doubts or questions. Maybe right now you, or others you care about, are struggling in faith and life but longing to believe.

We hear you, sister, and we’re with you.

That’s why we’re so thrilled that our newest book, For All Who Wander, by (in)courage writer Robin Dance, is now available.

Yay!!

For All Who Wander: Why Knowing God is Better Than Knowing it All is ready for you. It’s ready to sit with you while you grab a cup of coffee, pour another cup for a friend, and open your heart to the waiting world. It’s ready to be read by a book club, wrapped up in a birthday gift, stashed in a purse for a carpool or waiting room read. It’s ready to have a place in your life, and to help give you hope for your future.

If what you know in your head isn’t aligning with the gut-level truth of your heart, For All Who Wander is the book for you. As you walk through Robin’s story with her, you’ll find out for yourself that sometimes wandering is the path that leads you back to God.

We are so excited to hear how Robin’s heartfelt stories and Biblical encouragement impact your heart. For All Who Wander is now available at Amazon, DaySpring, LifeWay, and wherever books are sold. When you get your copy, be sure to snap a picture for Instagram and include #forallwhowanderbook in your caption so we can share in the fun!

Friends, this book? It’s for you, in the same story-sharing way (in)courage is for you. This book is for all those who want to recognize and operate out of their true identity in light of who Christ is. It’s for those who want to abandon the guilt and shame attached to having questions or doubts, and consider the factors that have led to this season of wandering. And it will reassure you that God is working whether or not you sense His presence.

Order your copy of For All Who Wander: Why Knowing God is Better Than Knowing it All today!

On Finding Your People and a Place to Call Home

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It’s official! I did something. I did it with a bit of apprehension and a good deal of hope. Basically, I joined a new church. That may not seem like a big deal to you, but for me, it’s huge. A while back, I touched on experiencing some church hurt that completely caught me off guard and how that was a catalyst in possibly leaving a church I had been a part of in some capacity for twenty years.

About fifteen months ago, I met some people after attending a conference at a local church, and it has changed my life. This new community has welcomed me in with open arms. Some have even said that it feels as though I have always gone there. Despite this, I didn’t want to make any rash decisions or decisions made out of hurt, anger, or bitterness from my last church.

So, I have taken the past fifteen months to learn and grow under this new church’s leadership. I have connected with members on a heart level. I’ve broken bread, celebrated, and even walked through some hard valleys. It has filled my soul with such joy.

Last week, I had a meeting with the pastors and discussed me possibly becoming a member. The Lord literally told me everything my heart needed to hear. I was in awe of His kindness and attention to the smallest details of my life.

A few months ago, this verse came up in a sermon and I knew what my word would be for 2020: dwell.

One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His temple.
Psalm 27:4 (NIV)

With this transition to a new church family, I knew that I wanted this new year to embody going deeper into these new relationships. Over the past couple of years, I have experienced disconnects in some of my friendships. I have poured out in friendship, but it hasn’t been reciprocated. It hurt, and it’s been hard, but I was made for connection. And so are you.

At the beginning of last year, the Lord called me back into wholehearted devotion to Him. That hasn’t changed, but now He is calling me back to deep devotion to community.

Navigating relationships of any kind is not easy, but it can be simple. Here are some things God has taught me that I want to carry into this new community:

Seek God first.

This is key. This is foundational. If our relationships with the Lord are lacking, nothing else fits into place. I truly believe I have let the Lord lead me in this whole process of transitioning churches. I didn’t go looking for a new church in reaction to being hurt. It actually came out of nowhere. When God divinely crafts His plans, there is so much peace attached to it. His leading comes out of those sweet times when we have just sat in His presence and listened to His still small voice. The Father wants to guide us intimately into the center of His will, and all we need to do is listen and obey.

Seek God together.

I am an advocate for the local church, and I love the verse that commands us to not forsake the assembly of the brethren. I actually have never felt guilt attached to this verse as some may have. I have actually been encouraged and challenged by it. No matter what has been going on in my life or in relationships or in the church itself, I have never wanted those things to deter me from gathering with the body. Again, not easy, but I do believe I have been intentional in this area.

Prayer and worship corporately has always knitted my heart and spirit with others. It’s been quite beautiful and powerful. I can’t wait to see how God moves in me and through me in this new space this year.

God created us out of unity — Father, Son and Holy Spirit — for unity — one body, many parts.

We all have something to glean from each other, and we all have something to offer one another. May we keep our eyes and hearts open to the leading of His Spirit. He has a place and a people for you to call home.

If you have found your people, I would love to hear about them!
If you haven’t, I would love to pray for you!

 

[bctt tweet=”God created us out of unity — Father, Son and Holy Spirit — for unity — one body, many parts. #community #church -@karina268:” username=”incourage”]

The Good News of the Gospel

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Blessed is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavens in Christ. For he chose us in him, before the foundation of the world, to be holy and blameless in love before him. He predestined us to be adopted as sons through Jesus Christ for himself, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he lavished on us in the Beloved One.

In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he richly poured out on us with all wisdom and understanding. He made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he purposed in Christ 10 as a plan for the right time — to bring everything together in Christ, both things in heaven and things on earth in him.

In him we have also received an inheritance, because we were predestined according to the plan of the one who works out everything in agreement with the purpose of his will, so that we who had already put our hope in Christ might bring praise to his glory.

In him you also were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and when you believed. The Holy Spirit is the down payment of our inheritance, until the redemption of the possession, to the praise of his glory.
Ephesians 1:3-14 (CSB)

These verses summarize the gospel for us. We have been chosen from the very beginning to be God’s children, redeemed through Christ’s blood shed for us. We have been promised and given the Holy Spirit, who is God with us, and we have now been blessed with every spiritual blessing.

And this gospel truly is good news. We, who were lost, unseen, and broken, are now chosen, loved, and are being redeemed for the day when we will be with Him forever.

Today, let’s not take for granted the grace given to us and the salvation that continues to save us and for a God whose love for us never diminishes.

 

[bctt tweet=”Today, let’s not take for granted the grace given to us and the salvation that continues to save us and for a God whose love for us never diminishes. ” username=”incourage”]

A Voice of Help and Hope When Struggling with Your Health

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My journey to a diagnosis of an autoimmune disease started early in 2017. I have not felt well since then. It’s been nearly three years. Tough doesn’t seem a strong enough word to describe this time. It’s not just the physical pain and symptoms that made it so hard. It was the waiting, the unanswered questions, the unending testing, the multiple doctors, the not knowing. It was the fight to find out what was wrong so I could just feel better.

This is not an easy fight to be in. So many times I’ve wanted to just forget about the whole thing. I’ve wanted to stop all the doctors and tests. I’ve been physically and emotionally spent.

But God.

He was with me every step of the way. When I was weak, He was my strength. When I wanted to give up, He reminded me how important I was. I was worthy of good health, and I could not give up on myself because He would never give up on me.

Through this journey, I have heard so many stories of strength and endurance — years of feeling sick with no answers why, countless doctors with no answers to give. I have learned it takes an average of nearly five years and several doctors to receive a diagnosis for an autoimmune disease, and that is just an average. So although some might get one quickly, most are searching for years for answers.

I want to encourage anyone desperately struggling for answers, trying to hold onto hope, trying to find peace and wellness, to keep going. You are fighting a battle most people can’t see and don’t understand, but there are people like us out there that do understand.

Keep fighting for you. It is so hard, but keep going.

Let me tell you something: you are strong. You are stronger than you know because God is on your side. He knows. He will not abandon you. God will never give up on you.

Before doctors found my husband’s giant brain aneurysm, he knew something wasn’t right. He wasn’t feeling right. He was getting a lot of head pain and pain behind his eye. We saw plenty of doctors and were always sent home to tough it out and use some strong ibuprofen. But because my husband knew something wasn’t right, we just kept going until a doctor finally ordered a CT scan and that is how they found the aneurysm. I don’t want to think about what would have happened had we given up because it was such a frustrating road.

Keep advocating and doing what you need to do for your wellness. You deserve answers.

After hitting one dead end after another, it’s easy to lose confidence and want to quit. But I am here today to cheer you on. You are not making this up. Your suffering is real. Your symptoms are real. You just haven’t found the answers you deserve yet. You will find a path forward. It will be physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting, but lean on Him. Stay pressed into Him.

When I think of struggling and suffering, I think about this verse:

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.
Romans 5:3-4 (ESV)

It’s hard to think that we would rejoice in our sufferings. Why would I want to rejoice for having a difficult, lifelong disease? How can I rejoice for pain and struggling? But I can think about rejoicing because I know God is doing something in the midst of all this. And that is something to hold on to.

Take your difficult journey and see it as an opportunity to do something with God — a journey filled with life lessons that produce endurance, character, and hope.

For those of you struggling with your health, with a diagnosis or lack of diagnosis, or with any difficult situation for that matter, know that you don’t have to struggle alone. Let God walk with you. Hold onto Him and don’t let go. Hear how others have endured and know you can too. Let these words be a voice of help and hope if you are in a darkness you never imagined. Sometimes you have to fight through the night to get to the blessing in the morning.

You got this because He has you!

 

[bctt tweet=”For those of you struggling with your health, with a diagnosis or lack of diagnosis, or with any difficult situation for that matter, know that you don’t have to struggle alone. -Jennifer Ueckert:” username=”incourage”]

What I Hope You Give Yourself in 2020

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In an eatery tucked away in the corner of town, David and I sat at a table for two. It was a noisy, crowded restaurant, one composed of several small rooms with tables and chairs squeezed in like some kind of furniture Tetris. Old photos and mementos covered every square inch of the walls. I looked around from our tiny table and began to feel anxious and twitchy. I mentioned this to David, and he nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, not much empty space in here, is there?”

I smiled and shook my head back and forth.

A bit later David excused himself to use the restroom, and I took out my phone to check email. I saw an article attached in an email about a new-to-me thing: “highly sensitive people.” I’m not sure why I clicked on the article as I’ve never heard of this thing called “highly sensitive people.” As the article loaded on my phone, I thought to myself, “Oh, this must be about people who get their feelings hurt easily.” But as I read the article, I discovered this isn’t what being a highly sensitive person means at all. Rather, a highly sensitive person is someone whose nervous system and sensory levels are easily overwhelmed, and this can manifest itself in several ways.

I looked up and saw my husband talking with someone he knew from work, so I clicked over to the online test referenced in the email, and out of twenty-seven total questions that describe characteristics of highly sensitive people, I discovered twenty-six of them were true for me.

Well.

David came back and as he sat down, I blurted out, “Baby! Okay, you know the way that I am?”

He looked at me and quipped, “Uhhh, you’ll have to be more specific.”

I replied, “Like how I just mentioned the crowded tables and decor in here make me twitchy. And how I always turn off the overhead lighting in a room and use lamp light instead. And how you often say I startle easily and have a nose like a bloodhound that smells every little thing.”

“Oh that. Yep, those things about you are all true.”

I practically jumped out of my chair. “Well, being that way is a legit thing! I’m an HSP — a highly sensitive person!”

We talked a bit more about what that means before David took the test himself. Not surprising to either one of us, he found only two of the twenty-seven true for him. We’re opposites like that.

Still, it was delightful to discover I’m not out of my ever-lovin’ mind because I am easily overwhelmed by my environment. I’m just a highly sensitive person. It’s a real thing, y’all!

(And all the HSPs said Amen!)

I wish I’d learned this sooner about myself. It would have saved me from beating myself up and apologizing for being what I thought was crazy sensitive. Now I clearly see I’m wired that way. And while this makes me more susceptible to certain pitfalls in our busy, blaring world, it also makes me a more compassionate individual who senses and sees things, things that are helpful rather than handicaps to a good life.

Ten short days into the New Year, some of us are still shaking confetti out of our hair and holding both good and difficult memories from 2019 in our hands. In time, however, our thoughts will turn to what we hope to see in 2020. As I begin to pray on this to the God of heaven, I want to put into practice the words of Flannery O’Conner,

“Please help me to get down under things and find where You are.”
A Prayer Journal

For me, part of getting down under things is taking the time to get to know myself. At first glance, that sentence sounds mighty indulgent. But then again, the better I get to know myself, the better I give to others around me, the more effectively I use my talents and gifts to affectionately love on others in my circles, the more assured I am that I belong where I am, as I am — where Christ has me today. 

The same fingers that flung the stars in the heavens wove your DNA into being. You were made on purpose for a purpose. God’s hands purposely designed you as you so you could best complete the hand-picked purpose He’s designed for you.

I’m praying you give yourself the gift of joyfully discovering how these two things beautifully relate. And when you discover this, may you joyfully discover Him.

 

[bctt tweet=”The same fingers that flung the stars in the heavens wove your DNA into being. -@Kristen_Strong:” username=”incourage”]

Maybe We Should Just Say No to “New Year, New You”

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Before the presents were wrapped to later be unwrapped, before candles flickered during Christmas Eve services, before we all returned to work and the calendar flipped from December to January, I heard it.

In Instagram captions and my Facebook newsfeed, during conversations with friends and while listening to podcast episodes, a message rang loud and clear:

New year, new you.

How can four small words carry such weight? The pressure feels like a burden. I’m overwhelmed and exhausted just at the idea.

To be honest, 2019 is not a year I’d like to repeat. It was challenging in ways I may never find words for, but there’s another path running alongside every difficulty: growth.

Most of the growth happened below the surface, roots reaching down deep, and while there’s a long way still to go (and grow), there’s comfort in knowing the same One who was with me every day of 2019 will walk with me through 2020 as well.

This is my command—be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.
Joshua 1:9 (NLT)

For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.
Zephaniah 3:17 (NLT)

“Remember that I am always with you until the end of time.”
Matthew 28:20b (GW)

I’m not interested in a “new you” route. But growth? Wholeness? Learning to see myself and my ordinary everyday through His eyes? Absolutely.

I want to speak with kindness to others and to myself, to choose grace instead of guilt, to unlearn shame and let go of hurry. I want to take off the layers of my old self to see the already-made-new woman underneath (2 Corinthians 5:17, Ephesians 4:22-24, and Colossians 3:1-17).

New year, new you? No thanks.

I want this instead:

New year, same God.

On Christmas afternoon, after the table was cleared and the torn wrapping paper picked up, I pulled out The Greatest Gift and read these words, the “new you” weight falling off my shoulders with each sentence:

“He is the God who is so for us that He can’t stay away from us. The God who loves us and likes us and isn’t merely 50 percent or 72.3 percent for us, but the God who is always, unequivocally, 100 percent for us — the God who so likes us, the God who is so for us that He is the God who chooses to be with us.”

He didn’t call Himself “I Might Be” or “I Was.” He is the right-this-very-second, in-this-moment, always-with-you God. He is the God of Right Now. “I Am.”

God come to us, God come for us, God forever with us.⁣ Emmanuel.⁣

He sees us and He sees us through every high and every low, every ordinary in-between. El Roi.

It’s just as true on January 9th as it is on December 25th. He’s as faithful and good, loving and present, on this page of the calendar as He was on the last.

He’s the God who comes and stays and sees, and more than anything else in 2020, I want to see Him with 20/20 vision.

In the difficult roadblocks, in the wide open spaces, in the twists and turns of what seem to be confusing detours, and in the benches along the way that welcome me to pause and rest. In happy hellos and grief-filled goodbyes, in tears that lead to laughter and laughter that leads to tears, may we see Him every step of the way, present on every page.

Emmanuel, God with us every day of the year.

In every moment and every change, the unchanging One remains. He sees us . . . may we see Him ever more clearly in the coming days.

New year, same God.

 

[bctt tweet=”He didn’t call Himself “I Might Be” or “I Was.” He is the right-this-very-second, in-this-moment, always-with-you God. He is the God of Right Now. “I Am.”⁣ – @kaitlyn_bouch” username=”incourage”]

The Sacred Work of Trying Softer

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With a heart about to burst, I walked down the aisle to Pachabel’s Canon in D toward the one who was choosing me and I, him. I felt Brendan’s gaze on my face, and his steady love caused me to feel grounded in a way that was still new to me. The air was thick with anticipation, joy, and a touch of grief. I had just finished my first year of graduate school for counseling, and in every sense of the word, I had fought to protect the joy of my wedding day.

My dad had chosen not to be present, and neither was much of my extended family — and this reality created a deep ache. And yet Brendan and I were entering a redemptive moment that would begin our life together. It was beautiful and overwhelming at the same time.

When I reached him at the front of the church, Brendan whispered, “Aundi, look around. Take a snapshot in your brain of this moment. We’re here — we’re doing this. Let’s not miss it.”

While I didn’t yet have the language to describe paying compassionate attention to myself or what I would come to call it later — trying softer — Brendan’s words on that day anchored me. They reminded me to give myself permission to feel fully loved and connected to God, myself, and my spouse, even while grief was present there too.

After Brendan whispered those words to me, I exhaled slowly and felt my feet beneath me. I suddenly noticed the weight of my dress and the lighting in the grand old synagogue that had been turned into a church. The late afternoon summer sun streamed in through the stained glass windows and cast a rainbow of pastels on the sanctuary. When we turned to face our guests, I looked around at each face sitting in the pews, and I actually saw them. I gave myself space to be loved by those who were there to support me.

I peered out at each of my siblings — my sister, who’d long been my best friend and confidant, and my three brothers, with their wit, courage, and gentleness. I saw my mom, and though she looked tired and was fairly new to her own recovery journey, I saw how much she loved me and hoped for my life ahead. Seeing my soon to be in-laws and my husband’s family moved me greatly too.

It was then that tears began to stream down my face, because while the day wasn’t perfect, it felt sacred, and I wasn’t missing it.

I look back on my wedding day now as an Ebenezer; a sign of God’s faithfulness to me (1 Samuel 7:7-12). Even now, I return to those moments as a piece of gold in my story that reminds me God is with me as I hold the fullness of my human experience. Though they are uneasy companions at times, joy and grief are intricately connected. In the last decade as a licensed therapist, I have learned that the key to holding these seemingly contradictory experiences together is to learn to pay compassionate attention to all that our minds, bodies, and souls are actually experiencing. It’s in this space of gentleness that we can move through the good and the hard, and allow God to meet us in their midst.

In a world that tells us to try harder—it’s time for something different. It’s time to try softer. We think if we just keep going, keep hustling, keep pretending everything is great, we’ll find success and happiness. But clinical therapist Aundi Kolber knows this leaves us overworked, overwhelmed, and exhausted. In her debut book, Try Softer, Aundi teaches us how to set boundaries, grow in self-compassion, and more in order to live a life of connection and joy. Trying softer is sacred work. And while it won’t be perfect or easy, it will be worth it.

GIVEAWAY!*

We are so excited about the message of this new book that we just can’t wait to share it with you! Leave a comment on this post and you’ll be entered to win one of FIVE copies!

*Giveaway will close at 11:59pm CT on 1/10/2020. Open to US residents only. 

 

[bctt tweet=”Move out of anxiety, stress and survival mode and into a life of connection and joy. -@aundikolber in her debut book, #trysofter: ” username=”incourage”]