We Are Invited to Feast with the Redeemer

We Are Invited to Feast with the Redeemer

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My favorite local restaurant in Central California where I live is a place called Heirloom, which showcases local, seasonal produce and creative dishes. I could eat there every day of the week and savor something different each time. One of their signature appetizers is called Loom bread, which is like a cross between flatbread and a croissant. My daughters and I love this light, buttery-flaky bread that melts in your mouth when served with warm Brie cheese and fig jam. (My mouth is watering just thinking about it.)

In Ruth 2:14-17, we read about the first meal that Ruth and Boaz share. Food plays an important role in bringing these two together. Ruth and her mother-in-law Naomi left Moab because they were homeless, hungry, and without resources. All of the men in their family died back in Moab. These women had probably grown accustomed to hunger pangs. They traveled the distance because they heard there was a harvest in Bethlehem, which could mean more food — or at least some food — for these widows.

Boaz leans over to Ruth at lunch break and says, “Come over here, and help yourself to some food. You can dip your bread in the sour wine” (Ruth 2:14 NLT). I like to imagine Boaz inviting Ruth to the table to share a Loom bread and Brie appetizer. Or maybe it was closer to pita bread dipped in balsamic vinegar.

The passage tells us Ruth ate all she wanted. She savored every morsel of that bread. Imagine the contrast. Ruth came to the field of Boaz to glean — basically to gather up the scraps — but now she is being invited to the table with Boaz, the field owner, and his workers. Boaz offered her a portion of his own food. This would not be common for gleaners to be included this way. In fact, it probably wasn’t common for the landowner to come and eat among his own workers either. But Boaz was a different kind of boss.

For Ruth, this was probably top of her list for best meal ever. There are even leftovers, which Boaz later urges her to take home in a to-go box, along with the grain she has gathered. What a feast!

The English Standard Version says Ruth “ate until she was satisfied.” Ruth 2:18 emphasizes: “She also brought out and gave her what food she had left over after being satisfied.” The repetition of the word satisfied is important here. 

In Latin cultures, someone pushes back from the table after a big meal and says, “Estoy satisfecha” in Spanish to indicate they are full and satisfied. This is also a compliment to the host or cook. Ruth feasted on abundant food but also experienced abundant generosity.

In Ruth 2:15-17, she is invited to gather grain from the bundles the harvesters have already gathered. This goes above and beyond the scraps that were usually left for widows and the poor to glean. Then Ruth returned home to share this abundance with her mother-in-law Naomi, who is overjoyed by God’s surprising provision.

God gives generously out of His resources. After all, He doesn’t just own a barley and wheat field like Boaz. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills (Psalm 50:10). He feeds the birds and clothes the lilies of the field in fancy clothes (Matthew 6:25-34). God, through Boaz, provides abundantly for these two widows who have experienced hunger and emptiness. How much more does He provide for us!

In Philippians 4:19 (CSB), the apostle Paul deepens our understanding of God’s generosity in light of Jesus: “My God will supply all your needs according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.”

The book of Ruth serves as a testimony to Paul’s words. God can and will meet all our needs. In my own experience, He meets those needs in ways we might not ever imagine. God sacrificed His son Jesus as an embodiment of His lovingkindness.

The generosity of this meal provided by Boaz for Ruth is a preview of sorts that points to the many instances when Jesus invited outsiders to the table. He was known for dining with tax collectors, fishermen, and marginalized women, both Jews and Gentiles. He invited everyone to His table to feast on the grace served up by His Father.

David writes in Psalm 34:8 (NIV), “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.” These words are an invitation to experience God’s glory with all of our senses. We are to taste and see His goodness all around us. And true blessing from the Lord abounds — not just through food, but also through the feast of His presence. As Ruth experienced, God is our refuge and redeemer in all circumstances.

Whether you are headed to your favorite restaurant today, grabbing a snack at work, or sitting down at the table with your family and friends, savor this opportunity to thank God for His generosity and provision in your life. 

What is the most amazing meal you have ever savored? How did that meal give you a taste of God’s abundant provision?

The story of Ruth is usually viewed through a Hallmark-tinted lens: girl suffers hardship, girl overcomes hardship, boy meets girl, they fall in love, and then everyone lives happily ever after.

But there’s so much more to Ruth’s story!

In her new six-week Bible study, Redeemer: God’s Lovingkindness in the Book of Ruth, (in)courage contributor Dorina Lazo Gilmore-Young invites us to view the book of Ruth through a different lens—one that helps us recognize how this story proclaims God’s heart for the vulnerable, including widows, orphans, immigrants, refugees, and the poor. As Ruth’s story unfolds, we discover that God is the main character and that he is the true Redeemer, for Ruth and for us today.

Pick up your copy today, join Dorina for her beautiful video teachings, and enter to WIN a copy right here! We’re so excited to give away FIVE copies of this new study. Just leave a comment answering Dorina’s question above about the most amazing meal you’ve ever savored, and you’ll be entered to win*.

Then be sure to tune into the (in)courage podcast this weekend for a conversation with Dorina and Becky! Trust us, you do not want to miss this episode!

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm central on 2/27/25.

 

What to Do When You Don’t Understand Why

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I can’t say with a hundred percent certainty, but I’m pretty sure my middle son’s first word was “Why?!” And certainly, if it wasn’t Elias’s very first word, it has been his most common.

Since he was a rosy-cheeked toddler, this child of mine has had an incessant need to know why. Why does that tree grow so tall and why is that rock so hard? Why do I have to go to bed, why are dinosaurs extinct, and why does that tool fix that thing? Why is broccoli good for me? Why do dogs run that way? Why are people homeless? Why is there war and drugs? Why did you say no and why won’t you answer all of my whys?

I can’t quantify the hours or energy I’ve spent over the last 14 years trying to satisfy his insatiable desire to understand the reasoning and working behind all the things. While curiosity is a wonderful thing to be nurtured and a very human instinct, there are many times I’ve also told my son, “I’m not going to explain the full why right now. You just need to trust that what I’m telling you or showing you or how I’m guiding you is enough for today.”

This is not what inquisitive toddlers or teenagers want to hear.

There are times I’ve squashed my kid’s questions because I’m just flat-out exhausted and I lost my patience somewhere between Costco, 87 emails, refereeing siblings, and my kitchen sink.

But many times, my redirecting comes from a place of care. As a loving parent, I recognize when it’s not appropriate or necessary for my son to know “why.” Sometimes the why is too complicated for his level of understanding. Sometimes it would be too heavy a burden to bear. Sometimes he needs to grow in patience or needs to be willing to wrestle in searching for the answer himself. Sometimes he’s a child who simply needs to trust that his parent is working for his ultimate safety, development, and wellbeing.

Oh, how like Elias we can be. Am I right?

We can come to our Heavenly Father and beg to know why. Why are You allowing this? Why do I have to wait for so long? Why don’t I see you working? Sometimes we call out from a place of joyful expectancy or innocent curiosity; other times we demand with impatient entitlement or because we’re desperate for control.

Lately, I’ve wanted to know why a teenage boy I know has cancer. Why a family member has to continually suffer. Why God’s rescue seems to tarry in a friend’s broken marriage. Why it feels like we’re all constantly taking two steps forward only for the floor to fall out under us, like we’re in my childhood game of Chutes and Ladders and suddenly we’re farther back than where we started.

I bet you have your own set of whys these days, too.

The thing that has made the biggest difference in my life is shifting from asking why to asking what. Instead of, “God, why is this happening?” I ask, “God, what do You want me to know about this?”

God is not obligated to explain His reasoning and strategy to His children, but in His kindness, He will always communicate His love and care for us.

So I ask: God, what do You want me to know about this unsettling situation?

God answers: I go before you and will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. (Deuteronomy 31:8)

I ask: God, what do You want me to know about the heaviness I feel?

God answers: I am close to the brokenhearted and I save those who are crushed in spirit. (Psalm 34:18)

I ask: God, what do you want me to know today about who You are? About who I am?

God answers: I am the Good Shepherd. You are my sheep. I call my sheep by name and they know my voice. I carry you close to my heart. (John 10:11, Ezekiel 34:31, John 10:3-4, Isaiah 40:11)

Asking God why can create a wedge of disappointment and confusion. Asking God what will always lead you closer to His heart.

As my son grows in maturity, he is learning to trust that his dad and I can see a bigger picture that is beyond his current understanding. He’s learning to trust that we’re guiding him for his good. We always welcome his questions and desire to have honest conversations together, but that doesn’t mean he’ll get the answer he wants to every why.

It’s a happy day when my children receive what I’m telling them, trust my heart, and follow my instructions.

Daily we have to remember that this is a picture of exactly how God feels about us.

We may not understand the whys or ways of God, but we can always trust His heart. Ask God what He wants you to know today. Then listen. Receive. Respond. Surely He is working for your good.

 

Listen to Becky’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts.

Instead of Getting Angry and Defensive, Do This…

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“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid.”
Isaiah 12:2 NIV

My son and I fight a lot. It’s not easy to admit, but we see the world so differently. He is strong. I am not. He is outspoken. I am not. He is opinionated. I am opinionated. Since he came screaming out of me sixteen years ago, he’s been a fighter. After all this time, I’m weary.

In my weariness, I get defensive. I get angry. I want to demand my voice be heard. I want to make him see my point of view and why it’s right.

I tend to force things. I can be stubborn. I want what I want. I’ve spent a lot of my life “forcing” things. I’ve done this with jobs I wanted. I push and push and push because I’m afraid of not getting what I want. I’ve done this with things, opportunities, and people.

When I’m afraid, I force my way forward.

I’m reminded of so many figures in the Bible who forced things too. Sarah was afraid of not conceiving and forced her husband to sleep with her servant, Hagar. Moses used force, Judah used force, and Peter used force — all when they were faced with a fearful situation. But, when I react to my fear by forcing my way forward, I usually end up hurting myself or others.

Life doesn’t have to be a battle. We don’t have to fight to get ahead or fear falling behind. Instead, we can surrender. We can let go of life on our terms. As fear rises, we can refuse to put on our boxing gloves and instead lean on Jesus.

I usually deal with my fear by using my own strength. When I sense my soul tensing up for a fight, I’ve learned to listen to the invitation to relax. I can enter my fear with Jesus. Like a litany, I live these words: soul, be still.

Don’t force the doors of opportunity to open. Don’t force people to relate in ways that only work for you. Don’t push to get your way. Trust that the Lord is always present and will always lead you to love and be loved.

by Anjuli Paschall, as published in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle

Our book, 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle, will take you on a journey of learning to see God clearer and to know Him deeper in the middle of your struggles. As you experience pain, move through daily challenges, or get bogged down by anxieties big or small, you’ll learn to find Him right in the middle of it, ready to strengthen you and give you rest. 

Stop Entertaining the Doubt and Step Out in Faith

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Shutting the car door with my foot, I threw my laundry bag over one shoulder and my computer bag over the other. I placed my makeup bag on top of the pizza box and headed towards my apartment building. Here are two words you could not use to describe me at this moment: wise and graceful.

I felt like a penguin waddling through the cold suburbs of Chicago. As I approached my apartment building, I passed an older woman who was carrying a box that was four times the size of her.

Relatable, I thought.

She said hello and trailed behind me as we both walked to the entrance. I held the door open and turned to let her pass through when I realized my mistake. She was piling all of her boxes on a bench next to the door, but wasn’t entering the building yet.

“Oh, thank you,” she smiled. “I should be getting the door for you.”

“No worries!” We both laughed and went our separate ways.

As I began walking up the stairs, my laundry bag slid down my arm. Just then, an urgent thought stole my attention. Go back and help her. Even still, I kept walking and moving away from the woman. The pizza box I was carrying tilted and I sucked in a deep breath as I tried to rebalance. Felicia, go back. My stomach growled with hunger. Help her. I stopped. I knew it was God. But I had more important things to do. Like eating BBQ chicken pizza and watching Netflix. Not to mention, putting all of this stuff down.

A picture flashed through my mind: I was standing in a kitchen — the roof had been ripped off and a heavy rain struck my face. The foundation was sinking. I cried out for help before a flood ripped through the doors and overtook me.

Then it clicked.

You know the story in the Bible about the wise and foolish builders? The one where a wise man builds his house with a foundation on rock. While the other man builds his house on the ground without a foundation? When a flood roars through the land, the house built on rock is not shaken, but the other house collapses. Right before Jesus shares this imagery, he says, “Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say? As for everyone who comes to me and hears my words and puts them into practice, I will show you what they are like” (Luke 6:46-47 NIV).

Will I choose to obey? Will I listen to the Holy Spirit? Will I sacrifice my own conveniences in order to show the love of God to someone else? My pizza will still taste good if I eat it when it’s cold, right? Convicted, I turned around and wobbled downstairs.

“Hey!” I gave my friendliest smile, as the woman walked my way with more boxes. “Do you want help carrying those?”

 “Oh! That’s so kind. That’s so kind of you,” she repeated, like she couldn’t believe it.

“I’m happy to help,” I offered.

“These boxes are actually filled with things that I haven’t been able to sell. I’m leaving them here for now because I need to drive back to my condo to pick up a few more things. It’s just down the street. But I should be fine on my own. Thank you so much.”

“Of course! Are you just moving in?”

Tears welled up in her eyes. A brief moment of silence fell over the conversation. Then, she bravely lifted her head and told me, a complete stranger, “I’m getting a divorce.”

My heart broke for her.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “Grief is a weird thing. Some days are harder than others. And today was really hard.”

I looked at this stranger and felt so much compassion for her. I wanted to tell her how loved she is. How brave she is for being vulnerable. How safe it is to break down, to hurt, and to not hold it all together. How strong she is for still standing. How her story is still being written and how, oftentimes, the deepest beauty unfolds from our deepest pain.

“I’m so sorry. I just want to give you a hug. Is that okay?” I asked. 

She laughed and nodded. We embraced and I gave her the warmest hug I could.  

I remembered the urgent thought that had popped into my head earlier: Go back and help her. She didn’t need help carrying boxes. She needed help carrying the weight of her pain. She needed to feel the love of God.

We pulled apart from each other, exchanged names, and continued to chat. I smiled, thinking about how the Holy Spirit prompted me to act in faith. But it wasn’t about me. The world doesn’t need more kind people. I mean, sure, it would help. But what the world really needs is to know the kindness of God.

Next time you hear that small whisper from the Holy Spirit to act in obedience, move. Stop entertaining the doubt and step out in faith. I promise — witnessing God’s love settle over someone is a million times better than warm BBQ chicken pizza.

Even Here, There Will Be New Life

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I have an embarrassing confession to make. Today I discovered that I am, apparently, someone who will cry over a potted plant.

Last summer, I bought a plant. That’s a very normal sentence… unless you know me, and then it becomes a very strange sentence. Grocery store bouquets thrive in my apartment, but I’ve never had a green thumb for a garden, or even a single houseplant. There were a few on sale right next to the sunflowers and carnations though, and I decided to try my hand once again. It’ll probably end up like the last one, I told myself as I walked through the checkout line, but I’ll try my very best. Even if it only makes it for a month, I reasoned, it’s worth the cost to have a little more life in an empty, quiet space.

Days turned into weeks that became months, and in mid-October, I decided it was time to give the still-alive plant a name. For no reason other than absolute delight, I quickly landed on Shelly.

Have you ever heard of a plant named Shelly? No? Exactly.

Oh, it’s ridiculous. I know this. But every time I walk into the living room and say “Good morning, Shelly” or “Hi, Shelly, you’re looking great. Time for some water” there’s an instant increase in joy — and so Shelly it is.

Shelly has seen some things, though. She has leaves that are split in half and one that is cut straight through, like someone took a pair of scissors to the already-broken places. A couple of the leaves are bruised and a few have holes, perhaps the sign of pests that enjoyed a summer snack. I only noticed one or two broken leaves while in the store, but Saturday by Saturday I gently pulled the leaves back, discovered another bruise or cut, slowly poured water onto the soil, and wondered if the not-perfect places led to being placed in a weekday sale.

Time has ticked on and months have passed since the impromptu grocery store purchase. Tree leaves have burned bright and fallen down, only to be crunched beneath boots or blanketed by snow. Seasons have shifted outside the window, but Shelly seemed to be frozen in time. I don’t know when it happened, but eventually I stopped anticipating any change — positive or negative. She’s still here, bruised leaves and all, and considering my previous history of keeping plants alive, that was more than enough for me.

That is, until I burst into very real tears and immediately dropped onto the floor today, stunned by the unexpected sight of four brand-new baby leaves. Suddenly, after all this time, new life is poking through. There are tiny pistachio green shoots growing next to bruised and broken olive green leaves, and side by side they tell a story of struggle and survival that brought me to my knees.

There are several things in my life that have died over the last few years, and I’m sure you’d say the same. People, relationships, dreams, jobs, homes, health… the list can go on and on. We are a people who have walked through significant loss, both collectively and individually. It’s not only tempting to think “this is how it’ll always be,” but it’s understandable. I’m stretching the metaphor, but like Shelly, we’ve seen some things.

But then there she is on a winter morning, a visual several months in the making, serving as a gentle reminder from the God who is also a Gardener:

Even in the places where we feel broken and bruised, even when we feel cut open and like something is missing where it shouldn’t be, there is still room for new life. In those very places, hope can grow again.

Today, it feels like a glimpse of Isaiah 43. The promise of “See, I am doing a new thing!” in verse 18 is a comfort and a relief, but to me, the deeper hope is found in the stunning honesty of verse 19.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

God doesn’t wipe out the wilderness or the wasteland. Instead, He promises to wipe away all our tears (Revelation 21:4) and fill the barren places with new life. It’s not just good; it’s the impossible come true.

Hope doesn’t erase what was or minimize what happened. The fingerprints of loss might linger long, and the reality of a new normal may carry over from one season to the next for the rest of our days. But it’s there, like a promise slowly poking up through the soil, an unhurried whisper inviting us to lean in and take another look, a declaration buried deep and forever holding true: time takes time, but new life is always on the way.

If you’re navigating the wilderness, desperate for any sign of new life, pick up a copy of Kaitlyn’s book. Even If Not will help you shift from the suspicion that God isn’t kind or present to the truth found in Scripture: on every single page of the story, He is with us and working all things for good. Hope may feel risky right now, but He will walk us all the way Home.

Listen to today’s devotion here or on your fave podcast app!

How to Fix Your Eyes on Jesus When You Find Your Gaze Adrift

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I’ve worn glasses as far back as I can remember.

I don’t know if I can think of a time when I didn’t have glasses. Class photos place this life milestone around second grade. Unfortunately, my introduction to corrective lenses wasn’t a pleasant one. In the 80s, it was — in my humble opinion — very uncool to wear glasses. Adding insult to injury, my glasses were neither sleek nor fashionable nor an acceptable color.

My glasses were a brownish, polycarbonate plastic something-or-other that mimicked owl eyes. In addition to those frames, my eyesight was so poor that the lenses were, at minimum, the thickness of the bottom of a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. Imagine my poor little seven-year-old self, just trying to make sense of her culture and environment, having to navigate this additional “burden.” It felt like I was swimming in the deep end without a floatie. 

I made up many excuses and tried all the tricks to not wear my glasses. Naively, I begged my parents to let biology do its thing without intervention. I asked to be moved to the front of the class to see the board better. I sat closer to the TV; I even tried to compensate for my unclear vision by filling in the gaps and guessing letters and words that danced in front of my eyes while reading. Despite these challenges, the fact remained I needed these glasses. I needed them to learn, to make sense of my surroundings, to see — to live. Without them, life was a blur, and I could not focus on anything that was more than a few inches from my face. This presented a serious safety and quality-of-life issue that only corrective lenses could fix, regardless of my feelings about them or what childish taunts accompanied them.  

In Hebrews 12:2, we are encouraged to “fix our eyes” on Jesus, the “author and perfecter of our faith.” As someone who struggles (and I mean struggle with a capital S) with seeing things clearly without glasses, the beginning of this verse speaks to both little me with the owl-framed lenses and the woman sitting with you as you read today. Wearing glasses is critical for me to focus and fix my eyes on the things necessary to live a full and abundant life. In like manner, we focus and fix our eyes on Jesus so we can see as we should and live a full, abiding life in Him. Since we are truth-telling here, I confess that sometimes it can feel very uncomfortable to fix our eyes on Jesus when other things are vying for our attention.

Can I also share how often I can become the queen of excuses when I know I should focus fully on Jesus? Can anyone else relate?

I have learned the importance of intentionally fixing our eyes on Christ regardless of what we may be tempted to view around us. When our gaze drifts from Him, our vision is blurry and distorted. Hello, spiritual astigmatism! We become troubled and transfixed on the things around us rather than on Him. As our focus wanes, so does our trust in the One who is the author and perfecter of our faith. Having sight but not being able to see Jesus and His work in our lives would be a tragedy more daunting than we can even imagine. 

As an adult, I have had years to accept the necessity of wearing glasses. I have even had the option of using contacts to help me sojourn my world and experience life with clarity. What started as the correction of my physical sight allowed me to gain spiritual insight. I pray that you will also find this to be true in your life. I challenge you to put on your spiritual glasses (no matter what they look like), use those spiritual corrective lenses, and fix your eyes on Jesus so that you gain the vision He has for you . . . and much more.

May we see life through the lenses of His love, mercy, and grace — and may we live undistracted by the things around us. As we fix our eyes on Jesus, we will find our sight restored and our faith renewed, day by day.

Listen to Quantrilla’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts!

4 Life Lessons Brooklyn’s Best Pizza Taught Me About Faith in God

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On November 8, 2013, I got engaged in New York City with dream-come-true views of the Manhattan skyline and Brooklyn Bridge.

Before basking in the beautiful, breathtaking sights, I had to survive a full day of surprises. Delightfully, the first surprise involved pizza — my favorite food. We started the day in Midwood Brooklyn, stepping into Di Fara Pizza, an unassuming corner pizzeria with fluorescent lights and outdated floors. Crowded in the longest line, when we finally got to the counter, the cashier pulled out a pen and pad to take down our order.

This was the point we realized we were in for an experience. . .

Legend has it, Domenico “Dom” DeMarco, founder of Di Fara Pizza, has made pizza the same way since he emigrated from Provincia di Caserta in Italy to Brooklyn, New York and opened the pizzeria in 1965. When I say Di Fara Pizza is Brooklyn’s best pizza, it’s not sentimentality or a stretch of the imagination. Truly, as declared by New York Magazine, Di Fara Pizza is, “The holy grail of classic New York–style pizza,” while the New York Times says, “Domenico Demarco defined the New York slice.”

Still, Di Fara Pizza is Brooklyn’s best pizza not just because of how the pizza tastes, but because of how it’s made.

That day, as my then fiancé (now husband) and I stood there waiting for our order, we watched Dom unhurriedly spread slow-cooked sauce on the pizza pies, unhurriedly sprinkle mozzarella di bufala (mozzarella made from buffalo milk), and unhurriedly scatter snipped basil and hand-sliced pepperoni atop each pie. I say “unhurriedly” because Dom prepared each pie at a speed countercultural to the fast-paced mode of most New Yorkers.

To give an idea of just how unhurriedly Dom worked — we waited well over an hour for a total of three slices of pizza.

By the time we got our three slices, I was hungry and hangry. We ate our pizza on-the-go because the unexpected long wait made us late for the next scheduled surprise. I grabbed a slice from the box, folded it in half, and took a bite as grease gathered in the nooks and crannies of crust and melted cheese. My goodness, that slice of pizza was, indeed, the best we’d ever had. We felt bad that we’d complained about the wait and were kicking ourselves for only ordering three slices to split between the two of us.

Fast forward to November 2024, just months after our ten-year anniversary, my husband and I made our way back to Brooklyn. During our visit, we placed an order for pick up, this time a whole pie. With just one bite, we sat in the car (yes, again) astonished that — even after the passing of Dom in March 2022 — Di Fara Pizza hadn’t changed.

Surprisingly, reflecting on Di Fara Pizza and Dom’s legacy inspired me to ponder my faith in God in some deep and delightful ways. Here are a few things I learned that I hope will encourage you, too.

God stays the same. I’m amazed that Di Fara Pizza tasted exactly the same as it did over a decade ago. But my life is so very different… My body has changed due to health issues (I’m now gluten- and dairy-free, but I gave myself this one exception). My marriage, in simplest terms, is well beyond the honeymoon stage. And yet, as I contemplate how much my life has changed, I ponder the consistency of God — how God is the same today, yesterday, and forevermore. There’s a kind of reliable comfort in that, like coming back home to your favorite food.

God is intimately involved. Part of what makes Di Fara Pizza so treasured is the legacy of Dom’s approach to making pizza. It’s been said he believed that only one person should make the pies. He didn’t hand off the tedious work of spreading the sauce or turning the pizza by hand in the hot oven. He did the work himself, each day showing up to make pies, up to 150 pies a day. It reminds me of how God is intimately involved with each of us, deeply dedicated to even the seemingly trivial details of our lives.

God’s plan is always worth the wait. I still kick myself for complaining all those years ago. While Di Fara Pizza continues to be family-owned and operated, I’ll never get the chance to have a pie made by Dom himself. Sometimes in my life (okay, most times), I still feel like newly-engaged Rachel, huffing and puffing at the pizza counter, wanting the line to move faster and the pizza to come quicker. One lesson that I’m working on learning this year is to trust God’s plan (and timing), even when it feels foggy, frustrating, and slow.

God’s goodness is too good not to share. Currently, Di Fara Pizza has 53K followers on Instagram, 4.2K reviews on Google, and 4.1K reviews (with 2.5K photos posted) on Yelp. Di Fara Pizza has been featured in a variety of YouTube videos and articles. Many pizza makers in New York City name Dom, and his signature style, as inspiration for their pizzerias. Affectionately cherished, it goes to show — when something, or Someone, is proven tried and true, others will unapologetically share the good news.

Amen and amen, may we always, unapologetically, share the Good News. . .

Friends — which of these life lessons are you currently learning? Comment below and share a little bit about what God is showing you — I’d love to hear your story!

Listen to Rachel’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts!

Finding Hope When the World Feels Heavy

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Sometimes, it feels like evil wins. We labor in faith, striving to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God, but we do not always see the fruit. I’d be lying if I said there haven’t been moments when the world feels heavy on my shoulders, and my heart can barely take the pain pressing in from every side as I wonder where God is in the mess of it all.

Throughout Scripture, God calls us to care for the suffering, the downcast, the poor. We’re called to speak up for the marginalized and care for the hurting.

A group of women from across the country invited me to their group to lead an online prayer session. They were faithful advocates, working to create change for some of the most vulnerable in our communities. They believed in bipartisan solutions and had tirelessly pursued conversations to bring hope and practical action. But before our scheduled time of prayer, they experienced significant setbacks. What had looked like promising conversations quickly turned into closed doors. The effort had been met with resistance, and they were left discouraged, questioning whether their work mattered, wondering what would happen to those who would remain hurting and unhelped.

I was discouraged, too, carrying my own doubts and frustrations. But I showed up anyway.

Some of us wiped away silent tears, and others sat with our hands folded tightly in our laps. We had come together to pray, listen, and lament — but honestly, I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to pray. I didn’t want to sit in silence, waiting for God to show up.

God felt distant.

And I felt alone.

Looking back, I can see that prayer was exactly what we needed. On that digital call, something began to shift as we slowly turned to spiritual practices. We practiced Lectio Divina, a way of reading Scripture prayerfully, allowing the words to speak into our weary hearts. We engaged in the Examen, reflecting on where we had seen God at work, even in our discouragement. We wrote small liturgies — simple prayers to name our sorrows before God. Little by little, the tightness in my chest eased. 

Our time together did not change circumstances, but by the grace of God — the Loving Parent who holds us even when we struggle to hold on — it changed me.

As I look around, it’s easy to feel like sorrow and struggle are unique to our times. But after spending time in the Psalms, I’m reminded that humanity’s ache is nothing new. This push-pull of who we are and who we could be has always been history — but the mercy of God has always been our hope, too.

Lament is part of walking with God. The psalmists cried out. Jesus Himself wept. When we let ourselves feel the pain of our weary world and the ache in our hearts, we step into sacred sorrow, something Jesus knew intimately. 

Just because we cannot always see the tree growing and bearing fruit does not mean the work we did to plant the seeds was in vain.

So much of our modern lives are focused on avoidance. We scroll, we busy ourselves, we try to distract ourselves from the ache — anything to keep us from feeling too deeply. But the way of Jesus is not avoidance. It is incarnation — presence, embodiment, and action.

As we read in James, faith without works is dead. But the inverse is also true: action without God will falter. On my own, my work will flounder. It will taper off in the face of adversity. It will burn out in exhaustion or despair. If left to me, I will give up.

Only the Spirit of the Living God keeps me going.

I wrestle with the silent doubts I don’t want to name. The ones that creep in during the waiting. The ones that whisper: What if this is all for nothing? What if I misheard God?

I find comfort in knowing that God is not afraid of my doubts, my silence, or my noise. God absorbs my screams as readily as my refusal to pray at all. There are moments when I do not want to invite God into my pain. I want to wallow, to rage, to sit in the dust and despair. I want to let my hot takes and anger fester. I don’t want to enter into prayer.

But in the presence of those women, as we sought hope together, I was reminded that though darkness lingers and injustice remains, hate does not have the final say. Communal prayer invites us into active participation in our world, propelled by the nourishing comfort and righteous power of the One who gives us breath.

By the power of the Spirit, we can take the next step. We can listen for the still, small voice of God. We can draw near to those who suffer, grieve with the grieving, speak truth in power, and embody love in action.

If you find yourself in a place of lament today, know this: You don’t have to do it alone. And you don’t have to hide your pain, frustration, anger, or discouragement from God. You do not have to pray beautifully scripted prayers, and you do not have to have all the answers.

You are held.

You are not alone.

May this simple prayer carry you:

God of Gentleness, You care for me.

 

Listen to Kayla’s devotion here or on your fave podcast app!

When the Answer to Prayer Doesn’t Last

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“This feels like such an answer to prayer.”

A friend congratulated me on a job I felt ready for at a company I believed in. The last year was full of lots of uncertainty and budget cuts and the role I was leaving had been shaky at best. This new work would be with a familiar organization whose vision and mission I aligned with. I had friends there and when I announced I’d be joining the team, I got texts and well-wishes and messages of welcome. It felt like I was in the right place at the right time.

And then, a few months later, I was told that while I was a hard worker and talented in many ways, it wasn’t the right fit. They were kind, but in the end, we went our separate ways.

I thought this was an answer to prayer?

And shouldn’t that kind of thing last longer than four months? Shouldn’t I have been able to settle in like coming home? I felt a sense of discouragement, shame, and disbelief. Did I read the situation wrong? Was exhaling a sigh of relief misplaced? Was there some red flag I’d ignored?

It’s hard to be 35, experienced, and searching for a job all over again — especially after eyeing the door of a job for so long and then thinking you were walking through the right one.

Sometimes, when a play takes a sudden turn or a dream dies or a relationship ends, we decide that our time was wasted. And believe me, I’ve told myself over and over that very thing. If I’d just landed in the right place to begin with, I’d be so much better off! If I’d just made the right call or said the right thing or taken the right route, I wouldn’t be in pain now.

One night, as I processed this news, I whispered to a friend, “Well, at least it was four months of provision.”

As the words came out of my mouth, I wondered if perhaps they were an invitation to shift my perspective. Instead of seeing these months as wasted, perhaps there were gifts that were buried deep under the confusion. Perhaps this moment was one to lean into my heartache and ask different questions.

Instead of, “What was the point of that?” I can ask, “Lord, what are you making new in me as a result of this?”

If we’re promised in Scripture that God uses all things for the good of those who love Him, that means that while some things aren’t inherently good, they are being used for good.

Here are some of the invaluable lessons God taught me through this job, even as it was taken away:

1. Make your workspace your own and care for it well. If you’re spending 8 hours at a desk, it should be beautiful.

2. The most confident people are dealing with a whole lot of doubt and insecurity — you should check in on them.

3. When a colleague is overwhelmed, ask if you can take something off their plate.

4. Get up and take a walk between tasks, even just for a minute or two. Your brain will thank you.

5. Sometimes, work days are long and plans change. Don’t overthink it.

6. Sometimes, work days are smooth sailing. Don’t overthink it.

7. Before opening your computer or beginning your shift, ask God for patience, focus, and opportunities to see others.

8. Be generous. Collaborate more than you compete with others.

9. You will not regret going the extra mile to make someone laugh.

10. Disappointments and closed doors are opportunities to surrender to Jesus all over again and walk alongside Him closer as I take the next shaky steps toward what’s next.

I wonder what would happen if we focused less on what we’re missing and more on what we’re gaining or how we’re growing. Not to cover up the pain — I’m still super embarrassed every time someone says, “How’s the new job?” — but to remember that God moves in every season and every moment. To remember that who I am now is not who I was four months ago. And to remember that God is staying the same.

Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever. In a world that seems to shift every other hour, sometimes minute by minute, it’s good to pause and look up. To always see Him sitting there, making eye contact, not in a hurry.

If you’re in a place of unexpected loss, I want you to know this, sister: you’ve still got so much to gain in patience and hope and compassion. You will become someone new each day in small ways, and your community will be richer as a result.

Take time to write a note.
Take time to say a prayer.
Take time to crack a joke.

Live fully into whatever this season brings because it might just be the season that you need.

 

Listen to Melissa’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts.

How Can We Pray for You Today?

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“Be assured that from the first day we heard of you, we haven’t stopped praying for you, asking God to give you wise minds and spirits attuned to his will, and so acquire a thorough understanding of the ways in which God works.

We pray that you’ll live well for the Master, making him proud of you as you work hard in his orchard. As you learn more and more how God works, you will learn how to do your work.

We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us.”
Colossians 1:9-12 The Message

One of our greatest joys at (in)courage is joining together as sisters in Christ through the power of prayer. Today, we’re wrapping you in the beautiful truth of Colossians 1:9-12. This passage reminds us of the incredible richness of God’s wisdom, strength, and joy available to us. Take a moment to read it slowly, savoring the abundant goodness and promises it holds.

We would be honored to pray for you personally. What’s on your heart today? In what area of your life are you longing to reflect Jesus more? Where do you need His strength, patience, or joy to carry you through?

Please share your request in the comments. And as you do, take a moment to bless another sister by praying for the person who commented before you.

Let’s create a ripple of encouragement and faith as we lift each other up in prayer. Together, we can stand strong, filled with His glorious power and overflowing with thankfulness.

 

This Is a Reminder That God Goes Before You

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The phone screen lit up. I got a notification.

My flight for tomorrow was rescheduled because of the snowstorm. The message that followed contained the new flight itinerary. After looking at the flight details, my heart began pounding. The travel disruption could lead to a missed medical appointment, and I waited for this appointment for a long time.

For the past few years, I have been struggling with severe spinal stenosis, a narrowing of the spine that causes pressure on the spinal cord. My life has changed drastically. My back starts to hurt after my body stays in the same position for a long time. I cannot do most of the activities I once enjoyed, including hiking, walking, and working out.

I tried to print out my boarding pass several times at the airport the following day. After a few failed attempts, I asked for help at the check-in counter.

“If you want to leave early, I can get you on another flight. We had a last-minute cancellation,” the airline representative said, looking at the monitor. 

“That would be wonderful,” I replied.  

It felt like God had gone before me, because getting on that flight meant I would arrive with enough time to rest before my medical appointment. I didn’t go looking to ask the airline representative to put me on another flight. I was just trying to resolve the problem with the boarding pass not printing.

After finishing check-in, the representative informed me that the wheelchair was on the way. Someone on staff at the airport brought me to the gate. Though the flight departed on time, I had no idea that my travel plans were about to change . . . again.

After landing at the stopover airport, I discovered that all the flights heading in the direction I needed to go were canceled because of another snowstorm. I couldn’t leave until the following day, and this left me feeling disheartened. Once again, the possibility of missing my medical appointment became a reality. After four canceled flights, I was exhausted. My pain became worse, and I felt overwhelmed.

The next morning, I was at the airport checking in for my flight. While the flight wasn’t delayed, there was still a possibility of not arriving on time because of the potential snowstorm. Yet, after the takeoff, a strong relief came over me. The view from an airplane window was breathtaking and just what I needed in the midst of uncertainty, because seeing God’s glory through the airplane window reminded me of His faithfulness.

Even though my flight arrived later than expected, I was still on time and didn’t miss my medical appointment. It felt like God went before me and surprised me with a miracle when I least expected it. Once again, I was reminded that the same God who created the universe is the same God who goes before His people. Furthermore, God didn’t just promise to go before His people; He also promised to be with them.    

While holding onto the truth that the Lord goes before us, we need not be scared and disheartened. For, God goes before us no matter where we are, how we are feeling, or what we are facing. He knows which way we are going and what lies ahead of us. God fights on our behalf, and He knows the outcome of our story before we do. Whatever surprises we encounter aren’t surprises for the Lord.

No matter what circumstances we are in, may we always remember this: God is always the same. He is not a distant observer; and He will never leave nor forsake us.

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

Looking for the Ten-Second Miracles

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A couple years ago, my husband and I ran into one of our favorite coffee shops for a caffeine fix. I expected to leave with a vanilla latte in hand. I did not expect to be reminded that God does miracles in His time, in His space.

I really did not expect to find this reminder on a package of coffee. And I especially did not expect this illustration to come from a play in a football game.

See, while we were waiting at the counter for our drinks to be made, I spied a package of “Skol Vikings Blend” coffee near the counter.

We live in Minnesota, where the Vikings are our hometown football team, and that coffee shop chain had created a special blend in their honor. We are a football family. We watch games every week without fail, because my son absolutely loves the game – loves it – and the Vikings are his team. He used his own money to join the Vikings Kids Club, roots for his beloved Vikes no matter what the scoreboard says, dresses in jerseys and eyeblack whenever possible, and plans to be a Viking when he grows up. He’s brought his sisters into loving the game and has big plans for teaching his little brother how to play when he’s a little bigger.

My boy has turned me into a fan too — especially of the family time watching the game brings. All that in mind as I stood at the coffee shop counter, I thought it would be fun to bring home some “football coffee,” so we bought the bag of beans along with our lattes and headed back to the car to complete our errands.

Then right there in the passenger seat of our minivan, I teared up as I read the description on the side of the package:

Just like a good cup of coffee, the Vikings have a special way of bringing us Minnesotans together. As we cheer on the team to rock ’em, sock ’em, and fight fight fight each week, we learn that when us Northerners come together as one, there’s not much we can’t accomplish. And that ten seconds is plenty of time for a miracle.

That last sentence, right on the back of the bag of coffee beans, stopped me right in my tracks.

In 2017, during a game — the final ten seconds of the game, to be exact — Minnesota Vikings player Stefon Diggs caught a twenty-seven-yard pass and ran it to the end zone for a touchdown as the clock ran out. The announcer went absolutely wild (as did the stadium), and he excitedly hollered that it was “a Minneapolis miracle.” The title and clip of the play went viral — you can see the “miraculous” play here. I vividly remember this game, mostly because my husband whooped so loud that our football-loving son got out of bed and came downstairs, and then we let him stay up and watch the replay.

Ten seconds is all it took for this play to make record books, to get millions of hits on the internet, to be called a miracle, to change history for a few folks.

And isn’t that so reminiscent of the true miracles of God?

How long did it take for Jesus to do His miraculous form of multiplication with a few loaves and some fish? How about when He swapped water for wine? With crowds gathered in both of those locations, hungry and thirsty, I can’t imagine that Jesus took a long time to make these miracles happen. People were waiting.

Sometimes God keeps us waiting. Other times, all He needs is ten seconds.

Okay, so I’m not actually comparing the “Minneapolis miracle” to those listed in Scripture, but it did remind me to take pause and remember how many times the miracles in life have taken very little time — when the car stops just in time to avoid being hit by an oncoming car, when I catch my toddlers’ hand just before the van door closes on it, when the diagnosis comes in and they say it was caught in the nick of time, when the phone call is made minutes before the decision comes through and the conversation changes the final decision. You know what I mean? How many times have we cut it too close for comfort and whispered, “Oh, thank you God!”?

And that’s just the protection kind of miracle.

When I raise my eyes from this computer, I see my four children who are absolutely miraculous in their own right, especially considering the years of infertility and miscarriages that came before and alongside them. All people, really, are total miracles. So very many things have to happen correctly in order to fully develop a human being, with all neurons firing, bodies forming, hearts beating. Each person is a miracle, right there in plain sight.

And then to look outside my window and see the blue sky, the frosted trees, the wonder of snowflakes — each one entirely unique. To hear music pouring from my speakers, artists gifted with both word and voice. To enjoy the transformation coffee goes through as the beans are ground and hot water is poured through. To watch the way ingredients come together, changing from eggs and flour and butter into warm cookies (anyone else think of that scene/quote from Friends? “Ten minutes ago this was all just ingredients!”) To hold a loved one’s hand.

There are more miracles in plain sight, beckoning to be seen.

So today, I raise my mug to you. Here’s to the ten-second miracles all around us. May we see them for ourselves. May we be them for one another.

Originally published on February 11, 2022.

 

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

From Overwhelmed to Free: Embrace the Gift of Simplifying

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“Mom, I love you, but this is why I am a minimalist.”

I opened the upstairs closet in a last-ditch effort to find my missing box. Objects tumbled out. I’d stacked and shoved. Shoved and stacked. With raised eyebrows, my daughter looked at me and chuckled. She had a point.

During various seasons, physical clutter has claimed too much territory in my life. One junk drawer crept into two. Organized pantry shelves now overtook space on the floor. And while I’ve created a cozy, welcoming environment for guests downstairs, my hidden spaces hold baggage I’ve held onto for far too long.

Time after time, I’ve declared “THIS WILL BE THE YEAR!! There’s a time to keep and a time to throw away.” I’ve celebrated significant progress and then allowed discouragement to derail me when the year ended as cluttered as it began. And while I’ve made intentional choices to simplify my life in many areas, my extra “stuff” carries a heavy physical and mental load.

The irony is that I have the knowledge to write a compelling book on home organization; I understand the systems necessary to declutter my life — but nothing changed until it was forced to.

In 2023, my husband and I celebrated thirty years of marriage. Our kids marked this covenant day with precious words and an announcement. “Since you’ve waited decades to replace your old upstairs carpeting, we’ll split the cost of the new flooring.”

What a kind, thoughtful gesture. They sensed a need, but couldn’t fathom the amount of work necessary for me to receive this gift. (Just pretend you’re packing to move without the benefit of a new house.)

For months, I couldn’t prioritize this overwhelming task. My friend Barbara reminded me that “Clutter is postponed decisions.” That’ll preach because I procrastinated until I received this text: “Mom, we budgeted for flooring last year. If you’re not going to use it, you’ll lose it.”

Our kids know me so well. The frugal saver in me created this mess, but she’s also the same saver who won’t pass on a free gift.

To move forward required brutal honesty. Not just with myself, but a heart evaluation before the Lord. So I prayed, “Search me, O God and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts” (Psalm 139: 23 NIV).

And He did.

While I desired to halt the habits that were sabotaging my progress, I hadn’t been willing to do the hard work necessary to clear out the cluttered spaces in my heart and home.

It’s an often painful process to allow the Holy Spirit’s gentle care to convict our soul, isn’t it? The intimate nearness He offers and the freedom of wholeness are available right now, but it involves a submission to the transformative process of renewing our mind. I had run from discipline too often. If I wanted to experience newfound peace, I needed to acknowledge the work involved.

“No discipline is pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”
Hebrews 12:11 NIV

If you’re a “Place for everything, Everything in its place” kind of girl, you may not understand the struggle of stuffed spaces. But when we reframe “clutter” as anything that gets in the way of living fully alive for God’s glory, then we realize we’ve all experienced the impact of clutter. Doesn’t wisdom suggest that if something isn’t drawing us closer to God’s goodness or His calling for us, we should let it go?

That’s my struggle. We can hold on to anything we want, but we must be willing to pay the price — in space, time, energy, and money. Because no matter how much we shove, shift, and hide our clutter, the cost takes its toll.

What might decluttering look like for you in 2025?

Could it be emotional or digital clutter that prevents peace within your home?
Financial clutter where debt hinders generosity?
Relational clutter created by a frazzled “to-do” list that limits your margin for others?
Or maybe spiritual clutter where bitterness, idolatry, or pride create barriers to a right relationship with the Lord?

It’s been a year since that “use it or lose it” text from our kids. My brother and I ended up installing the floors ourselves. Part of being honest meant acknowledging that I didn’t get here overnight and I wouldn’t get out from under it overnight either. (Plus I needed tough love to make progress.)

In the decision-making process, I’ve started asking, “Does this help me accomplish my work, enjoy my life, encourage others, or draw me closer to the Lord?” If not, it’s clutter. Full disclosure, I invited my minimalist daughter to speak the truth and hold me accountable. (I’ll let you know how that goes.)

Clearing the clutter of our hearts and homes is a journey and not a one-time destination, but a continual journey. While I witness the fruit of discipline that comes in the day-to-day as I choose to lay my preferences aside, it’s not only hard work, it’s transformative.

It allows room for my soul to breathe and I’m so proud of myself. I’m amazed at the peace it brings.

Do you desire that too? To declutter your heart and soul?

What’s one thing that you need to let go of that no longer serves you or Him well?

Join me in the comments as we reflect and imagine how our lives would feel if we decluttered that one aspect.

 

Listen to Jen’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts.

When January Feels Like Groundhog Day

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My youngest daughter has recently been watching a TV show where two of the characters have visions of the future. It never fails, though, that their visions only show part of the picture and their interpretation of what’s happening (and what they should do to prevent it) is wrong. Every time! While discussing the show, my daughter said, “I still like it, but it’s kind of the same thing over and over. You’d think they would figure out that they always get it wrong!”

I laughed and agreed with her about the premise of the show. But then I paused and said, “Isn’t that kind of how we all are, though? Making the same mistakes over and over again?”

We’re just past the beginning of another year, another stretch of days debating the concept of “New Year, New Me,” another opportunity to look back and evaluate, and look forward and plan. In other words, it’s January.

And nothing sends me spiraling into self-doubt disguised as reflection like January.

I woke up on January 1, 2025, the same person I was on January 1, 2024 — and every year before that. And I do love that person (or at least I’m trying to), but I sure thought she’d have figured some more things out by now. Sure, I’ve grown and learned and changed in some ways throughout my life, but the things that I struggle with never seem to leave me entirely.

I don’t have visions of the future like those TV characters, but I seem to get the same things wrong year after year.

Have you ever felt that way? Have you reached a milestone or significant date and felt panic begin to creep in at the thought of everything you haven’t started or stopped or accomplished or experienced? Have you ever found yourself wondering if you’ll ever reach that goal, ever learn, ever move past that thing, ever get it right?

I feel that too, deeply—but I’m going to stop us both right there. Because, friend, we cannot start another year or season or week at the bottom of that pit! These feelings of discouragement are understandable when we struggle to see growth or progress — but, much as I’m tempted to wrap myself up in self-criticism and self-doubt and convince myself I might as well give up, that’s not who I want to be or how I believe God wants me to live. And the same goes for you.

So, how do we climb out of this broken resolution-shaped hole?

Let’s start by remembering that we’re human, a condition God is fully aware of and not offended by. And then we’re going to turn to God’s Word. One of the most human, most relatable passages in the Bible is found in Romans, where Paul confesses that he also cannot get it right:

“I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway.”
Romans 7:15, 19 NLT

Same, Paul, same.

But here’s the thing we can’t miss: Just a few verses later in Romans 8:1, Paul says there is no condemnation for those of us who belong to God. And later in that chapter, as he reassures the reader of the absolute and all-encompassing power and strength of God’s love, he says (in Romans 8:33-34, paraphrase mine):

Who dares accuse us? No one.
Who then will condemn us? No one.

No one! No one has the right to accuse a child of God. No one has the authority to condemn us for the sin God promises to wash clean. No one can convince God to give up on us or judge us or leave us to our own devices. No one.

And while we can find verses in other parts of the New Testament where Paul shares his successes and all the ways Jesus has transformed him, these verses in Romans 8 come right after he admitted that he struggles to do the right thing. This context matters! Romans 8:1 begins with “therefore,” connecting Paul’s lamentations of his sinful nature directly to God’s pure love and forgiveness for all the ways we continue to be so very human.

Our transformation into the person God created us to be may be slow. We may relapse into old habits or lack the strength to start new, healthy ones. Some years may contain so much chaos or difficulty that the best we can do is survive.

And absolutely none of that will keep God from loving us just as we are.

God’s love isn’t hinged on our ability to get everything right. Our struggles might feel like reruns, but His grace is relentless.

So let’s be kind to ourselves, just as Colossians 3:12-13 urges us to be, clothing ourselves with tenderhearted mercy and patience — even toward our own hearts. When we stumble, instead of harsh criticism, let’s extend the same compassion we’d offer a dear friend. God’s mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23), and that includes mercy for ourselves. (Mic drop because I seriously need all the mercy I can get. Same?)

So, take a breath, friend. This year isn’t about fixing everything; it’s about trusting God with each step, leaning into His love, and allowing His grace to transform us—slowly, steadily, beautifully.

Let’s approach this day and the rest of the year knowing we are loved right where we are, imperfections and all.

 

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

Where Your Feet Are: Embracing the Spiritual Practice of Presence

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When Jesus was walking to heal Jairus’s daughter, something remarkable happened. In the midst of an urgent mission, surrounded by a pressing crowd, He suddenly stopped and asked, “Who touched my clothes?” (Mark 5:30). His disciples were baffled; people were touching Him from every direction. But Jesus remained still, fully present in that moment, aware that someone had reached out to Him in faith. He discovered that it was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years. And in the middle of Jesus’s rush to heal a little girl, He stopped to heal this woman whose health had been suffering for over a decade.

This story has always fascinated me because it illustrates something profound about presence. Here was Jesus, on His way to perform a miracle, yet He was so present in the moment that He could feel one precious touch among many. He didn’t brush it off or keep moving toward His “more important” destination. Instead, He stopped, noticed, and engaged fully with the woman before Him.

Today, this kind of presence feels nearly impossible. Our minds constantly race between yesterday’s “What did I do?”  and tomorrow’s “What do I need to do?” We check our phones during conversations, plan our responses while others are speaking, and often find ourselves physically in one place while our minds are somewhere else completely.

And friend—this is the person I naturally am—a born multitasker giving 27 percent attention to three different tasks all at the same time.

Yet Scripture repeatedly invites us into the sacred. The Psalmist reminds us, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10 NIV).

Moses encountered God’s presence in the ordinary moment of tending sheep. Martha’s sister, Mary, chose the “better part” by sitting attentively at Jesus’s feet. These weren’t just moments of physical stillness. They were moments of holy attention, being fully present where their feet were planted.

But what does this kind of presence look like today? How do we practice being where our feet are planted when our world seems designed to pull our attention in a thousand different directions?

I believe it starts with recognizing that presence is a practice, not a destination. Just as Jesus walked at what we might call “the speed of love” — taking time to notice, to engage, to be fully present with those around Him, we too can learn to slow down and notice God’s movement in our ordinary moments.

This presence isn’t just about paying attention. It’s about recognizing the sacred in the ordinary moments of our days. Think about Moses’s encounter with God in Exodus 3:5 (NIV). “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” The ground hadn’t changed; Moses’s awareness had changed. And with a God who never changes, I want to be the one who is willing to let my awareness of Him change.

Here are some practical ways to cultivate this kind of presence:

1. Begin your day with “sacred stillness.” Before reaching for your phone or jumping into tasks, pause to acknowledge God’s presence. Most mornings when I wake up, I will take one fresh, deep breath and breathe in God’s presence. Let your first thoughts be directed toward Him rather than your to-do list. Because that to-do list? Won’t stay silent for long …

2. Practice “threshold moments.” Every time you cross a threshold — entering a new room, starting a new task, beginning a conversation — take a breath and silently ask, “Lord, where are You in this moment?” And if you feel like this is a hard practice, do what I did and start with a post-it note on your doorframe to remind you. Eventually, you won’t need the reminder anymore.

3. Choose one daily activity to be your “presence practice.” Maybe it’s washing dishes, driving to work, or preparing meals. During this activity, intentionally notice the details, the sensations, the presence of God in that ordinary moment.

4. Develop what I call “holy attention” in your relationships. When someone is speaking, practice listening without planning what you’re going to say next. Notice their expressions, their emotions, the way God might be moving in their lives. People are so desperate to be heard. You could be the one to make them feel seen today.

This isn’t about maintaining a constant state of mental prayer. Who could do that? It’s about developing an awareness of God’s presence in every moment, in every circumstance.

This practice of presence isn’t about perfection. Each day we have the opportunity to practice connection or disconnection. Yes, I still mindlessly scroll on Instagram when I’m having a hard day, but more often I find myself content with my own company in the presence of God. For someone who has always sought distraction, what a gift being present can be.

If you’re looking for a way to practice God’s presence (while taking care of your future self with some delicious recipes), order Kathi’s new cookbook, Sabbath Soup: Weekly Menus and Rhythms to Make Space for a Day of Rest.

 

Listen to Kathi’s devotion here on wherever your stream podcasts!

The Weight of Expectations

by

Expectations can be tricky. Admittedly, I’ve made some of my worst parenting and personal decisions based on societal pressure or what I thought was expected of me. (Sorry, kids!) I’ve allowed what I demand of myself or what I believe others want from me to mess with my head.

Did I properly celebrate a child or a friend’s birthday?

Do I give my kids what they want for Christmas?

Is my house clean enough or just embarrassingly dirty?

Will I ever manage those DIY gifts I’ve meant to make for years?

Do I talk to my children and extended family enough? Do they know how much I love them and what they mean to me?

Will twice-a-week occupational therapy appointments enable me to regain full use and mobility of my right arm after falling and having major surgery last summer?

Once I polish the manuscript of my first novel, will I get an agent and a publishing contract (my 2025 goal)?

In some circumstances, recent physical challenges have slowed me down. In others, they’ve taken my options off the table. I planned to finish my manuscript by October, but major surgery, brain fog from pain, and relearning to type with both hands and use my arm again delayed things. Life has felt upside down and all my expectations sideways. At one point I even forgot about my physical limitations and checked the calendar to see if I could work a shift with my church at the Operation Christmas Child warehouse in December — only to be disappointed in remembering my bum shoulder prevented me from that kind of service.

Lately, I’m frustrated, overwhelmed, and worried about disappointing people even more than usual. I emphasized lowered expectations so much at Christmas that it shocked my children when I handed them their traditional Christmas Eve pajamas. I’ve set the bar pretty low.

I don’t like to fail or to let people down, even myself. Who does?

Jesus understands what it’s like to bear the weight of expectations; it’s yet another way He can relate to us.

The Jews expected the Messiah to come as a military leader and fight their Roman invaders, liberating them and establishing an earthly kingdom. But Jesus focused on spiritual teachings, and on compassion, not might.

Others thought the Messiah would arrive as a prophet, like Moses. Surely, the Pharisees never imagined Jesus would challenge their teachings and traditions or undermine their authority. They continued to question Him, assuming they could trick Jesus into contradicting or breaking the law, or saying something that could be used against Him.

And what about the expectations of Jesus’ earthly family? He astonished Mary and Joseph by staying behind in Jerusalem as his family returned home after the Passover feast; they returned to find him among the teachers at the temple. (Luke 2:41-52) His family assumed Jesus would always attend to their needs first, but that wasn’t the case. (Matthew 12:46-49) His brothers and sisters must have believed their perfect big brother would eventually mess up like everyone else, right? (Wrong.)

Jesus taught that all life has value. He confused the disciples when He refused to ignore the Canaanite woman, whom the Jews would have considered a heathen. (Matthew 15:22-23)

I’ve been guilty of presuming Jesus will fix my problems like a genie in a bottle. Sometimes it takes years before I see the full picture, to understand that if God had granted my requests—though they seemed like a good idea (to me) at the time — they would have actually harmed me.

Jesus shattered the expectations of those around Him. He still does. Although He disappointed men, Jesus always remained true to what God the Father expected of Him.

If expectations run high and overwhelm you — especially at the start of a new year — extend grace to yourself and remember that Jesus understands. Follow Christ’s example by remaining true to God the Father, and you’ll never go wrong.

“Many are the plans in the mind of a man,
but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.”
Proverbs 19:21 ESV

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