The Gift of Quiet Strength

The Gift of Quiet Strength

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Do you ever hear someone talk about peace and then look at their life and think, Well yeah, it’s easy for you to be content! Look at how perfect and easy your life is! Meanwhile, peace in your own life feels crowded out by trial after trial, struggle after struggle. How can you be content when the basement floods, the baby won’t sleep through the night, the teenager won’t obey curfew, the budget’s too tight, loneliness is a constant companion, and you hurt your hip in your sleep? (Is it just me?)

It’s easy to associate peace and contentment with pleasant circumstances. Surely that’s the message our culture preaches. Just buy that new skincare product, organize your closet, put your kid in that program, throw the perfect party, read the self-help book, and earn that promotion. Ta-da! Then you will be content with your life. And yet … I don’t know anyone who has done all the things and didn’t wind up just creating another list of must-haves and must-dos.

Even if we’re not swayed by material things, we do this with spiritual matters. Just help with that ministry and attend that retreat, check off your quiet time box, make your donation, and pray before every meal. Surely those good things will lead to the peace we long for, right?

Looking for contentment by doing good things for Jesus won’t replace the peace found in Jesus.

The apostle Paul writes, “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” Too often Christians apply this verse to mean “I can do anything I want by the power of God.” While it’s true that God does empower His people to do a multitude of things, in the context of Philippians 4, Paul isn’t talking about things like running a marathon, starting a business, or even serving the poor. He’s talking about how to live from a posture of contentment. How to find inner stability, serenity, and satisfaction that doesn’t hinge on our present situation.

Whether he had a full belly or felt hunger pangs, as a free man or in prison chains, Paul learned that peace isn’t found in the presence of abundance or the absence of hardship.

Peace is the quiet strength provided by Jesus.

Paul was beaten, abandoned, and imprisoned. He battled sickness and loneliness. He begged God to remove a “thorn in the flesh,” which God refused to do: “Each time he said, ‘My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.’ So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me” (2 Corinthians 12:9 NLT).

This is the way Paul learned to be content in every situation. This is the way we can learn to be content in every situation. Paul’s source of peace wasn’t in his own accolades but in the atoning forgiveness of Jesus. His peace wasn’t in his own efforts but in the effective grace of Jesus. Paul no longer identified himself by his pedigree and prestige because his true identity was in Jesus.

“I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”
Philippians 4:12–13 (NIV)

Paul took on a posture of contentment, which enabled him to experience the life-changing peace of Jesus. Our circumstances don’t have to be extreme for us to need God’s peace.

On a regular Tuesday when you run out of laundry detergent. On a Saturday night when you get a phone call that makes your heart sink. When you’re treated unfairly, when you get overlooked, when your security net falls through, when a door slams in your face — every moment of every day you have a choice to make:

Are you going to look for happiness in what’s happening around you? Or are you going to look for strength and peace from the one who is in you?

Choose well today, friend.

Written by Becky Keife from the Create in Me a Heart of Peace Bible Study 

In His Hands, I Am Held and I Am Home

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For eighteen years, my life made sense.

I lived in the same small town, the same split-level house, went to the same Baptist church, had the same friends. I went to the local elementary school, then the middle school right beside it. I went to Sunday school on Sundays and youth group on Wednesday nights. I played sports, made good grades, won games, won awards.

I would eat Little Caesar’s pizza on Friday nights and go to the local college football games on Saturdays. I would meet my friends to play basketball on Sunday afternoons and, in the winter when it snowed, I would play football with them in the snow.  I took the piano lessons and played in the recitals.  I dated one boy in high school and was named “Most Likely to Succeed.”

That was my neat, “tidy” life, and it made sense. Until it didn’t.

I always knew that I would leave home for college — it was never really a question. So, I went one state over and enrolled in the same college as my boyfriend and my two best friends . . . except, in time, he was no longer my boyfriend. And, turns out, my best friends roomed together . . . without me.  Suddenly, what I had always known became that which I didn’t know anymore. I had never been totally thrust into something new and, while there certainly were parts that were exciting, all the unknowns were overwhelming because the safety I’d always known was gone.

Then, after college, I married my husband (a pastor) and we moved again and again and again and again and again. I went from living in one small town to living in thirteen different houses in seven different cities in five different states. Just as I scrambled to find my footing in each new place — grasping to recreate the safety and comfort I had once known — it seemed hope would slip through my fingers right as we set out for the next new place.

This wasn’t the life I had planned. I found myself asking if this was really a life at all?  Why couldn’t I have what I most wanted — stability, a place to be known, a place to call home? Was it my fault somehow? Was I being punished for having such a secure, stable childhood? I hadn’t experienced an environment that required me to develop resilience, to learn how to navigate change. Instead of walking confidently into the next season, I found myself floundering, stuck in survival mode.

Did anyone see me? Would anyone save me?  Did anybody even care?

Sitting on my back porch sobbing one night, I got an image of a well and my tears were filling it up to the point of overflow. I didn’t know it then but that image would be one of many that would let me know that I wasn’t alone. That, my haphazard life wasn’t a waste and that there was Someone who was keeping account of it all. Those tears I cried weren’t falling into some abyss; they were being caught and collected.

My weeping well was being transformed into a well of wisdom and my tears weren’t wasted; they were being used to water the soil of my heart by my good Gardener. 

One day, I looked up and I simply knew the sorrow wouldn’t last. I knew that the wandering wasn’t directionless, and the journey — though treacherous at times — wasn’t over.  All the times when I felt that life had no purpose, no destination, that my strivings were pointless and my contributions were meaningless. All the times I felt alone, misunderstood, and angry at the world. Every time I pushed away my friends, my family, my husband, my kids. Every time I felt less-than, not able to adjust or keep up, I was being held — held in the hands of the One who created me for something good, created me for a hope and a future.

In His hands, I was being molded, stretched, and pruned — but I was never abandoned; I was never let go.

I was held. I am held. And, because I am held, I am home.

Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.
Isaiah 41:10 (NLT)

. . .I, your God, have a firm grip on you and I’m not letting go. . .
Isaiah 41:13 (MSG)

In the Middle Is Where the Miracle Happens

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I recently spoke at a conference where the theme was, “There is more to your story.” What great news! We don’t have to settle with how our life is right now…  forever. There is something more. But even if you agree there is more, do you ever wonder, “How do I get there?” 

Have you noticed how no one likes being in the middle of a challenge? We all want to skip to the end—where the struggle is over and the prayers are answered. This is especially true when the middle is hard. We long for the happy ending without the difficult journey to get there. When I think of happy endings in the Bible, Ruth’s story comes to mind. Her ending is like a fairy tale: after a season of deep struggle, she marries Boaz — a wealthy, kind, God-loving man.

In my Bible, there’s a big, bold heading that says, Ruth Marries Boaz! This is where we’re all trying to get in life, to the giant heading that declares whatever we were going through is now over. But for there to be an ending, there has to be a beginning and a middle.

The beginning is the cause of whatever happens (or doesn’t happen) that makes us think our story is over, or it will never change. For Ruth, her father-in-law, brother-in-law, and husband died, and she was about to lose her mother-in-law, Naomi, too. Ruth faced a heartwrenching decision: stay in her homeland with all she’s ever known, or leave everything behind to follow Naomi back to Judah. 

Through an emotional exchange, Ruth chose to go with Naomi. She declared:

“Don’t ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.  Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord punish me severely if I allow anything but death to separate us!”
Ruth 1:16-17 NLT

Ruth’s faith and steadfastness are admirable. She was in the middle of her story, which is where all of the good stuff happens — though it doesn’t usually feel good at the time. It didn’t feel good to Ruth either. It was hard. She certainly mourned all she had lost and wrestled with the uncertainty of how to move forward. Yet, in the middle is where the miracle happens.

It’s easy to focus on the ending of Ruth’s story, where everything worked out! But there was so much more. 

Ruth lived out what James would later write about: “Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing” (James 1:2-4 NLT).

In the middle is where her faith was being tested. I can’t imagine losing my husband, saying goodbye to my family forever, and moving away to a place I’d never known without any guarantee of provision or security. But Ruth did just that. She journeyed to a land of complete strangers in a new culture with a different language, values, and laws. 

Every step of her story could have been filled with defeated what-ifs. She could have asked herself, What if things get worse? What if I never get married? What if I’m lonely forever? 

Instead, Ruth decided ahead of time she was going to trust God. 

Years ago I did a Bible study on our thought life. I read verses that told me not to worry about anything, cast down vain imaginations, and think about things that were good, lovely, pure, and of a good rapport. During that study, the Lord challenged me to change my what-ifs from negative to positive. Instead of thinking, “What if my child gets in a wreck?”, I think, “what if my child is safe all of the days of their life?”

We could say things like:

What if my marriage flourishes?
What if I get that promotion?
What if this sickness/disease goes away?
What if things turn out well?

In the middle of her story, Ruth had to redirect her what-ifs — and she did. She was a delight to be around. People talked about her in positive ways. In Ruth 2:11, Boaz mentions the good things he’s heard about her. Even in her hardship, her reputation for goodness went before her. What does our reputation say about us in the middle of our struggles?

The middle may seem hard but all of the good things in the Bible happened in the middle. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were in the middle of a fire when the fourth man showed up. Moses was in the middle of escaping slavery and being pursued by an army when the Lord parted the sea.  Ruth was in the middle of sorrow and uncertainty when she met her Boaz.

When we trust in God He’ll bring us through too. 

We see the middle; God sees the miracle. There is a reason James says to count it all joy! James understands the progression of how our middle hardships lead to our ultimate growth and good. 

We have to have faith in the middle. Faith to leave our country and everything we know. Faith to not bow to the image and be thrown in the furnace. Faith to raise our staff and tell two million people to walk through the water. 

Get excited in your middle. God already sees your miracle. Trust Him. Your bold letter heading is coming.

What the Eggplant Teaches Us About Stepping into Our Callings

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Most days I’m operating in my true gifting. I have the spiritual gift of killing plants. I am infatuated with the idea of gardening. My foodie heart swoons over the prospect of plucking plump produce and harvesting herbs from my own garden to use in cooking creations.

However, I’ve discovered gardening requires commitment. There’s weeding and watering, pruning and picking to do on the regular. For many years, gardening remained on my to-don’t list because I was raising babies and writing books and pulled in a thousand other directions. House plants didn’t have a chance in my home, and gardening was not a high priority.

Finally, I decided to try again. In Central California where I live, gardening is somewhat challenging because of our extreme heat in the summer. Temperatures soar into the triple-digits for weeks with little reprieve. A few years ago, everything in my garden got fried over a weekend under the scorching rays of the hot sun. 

Last year, I tried to plant a garden, but started too late. My plants sprung up quickly but then shriveled back after several nights of cold before any real fruit could develop. 

This summer I enlisted my dad’s help to cultivate my vegetable garden. My 82-year-old daddy has time on his hands and loves to tinker. He turned the soil and helped me weed. Then we pushed seeds into the earth and watered diligently. 

I was excited to watch the cucumber plants grow next to the basil, peppers, and tomatoes. I let myself start dreaming of Tomato Basil Bisque and tender layers of Eggplant Parmigiana with my Italian tomato ragù and melted mozzarella cheese on top. I actually got a good little crop of veggies over the weeks that followed. 

Everything was producing — except for the eggplant. The plant itself shot up and pale purple flowers bloomed on the sturdy-looking branches. But weeks and weeks went by with no eggplants, just pretty flowers. No fruit was to be found even though the plant climbed upwards and outwards in my backyard planter box.

Finally, I did the thing any amateur gardener would do. I asked Dr. Google for advice. Scrolling through different gardening sites, I discovered eggplants are primarily wind-pollinated, so very hot or still days can prevent them from bearing fruit. Sometimes the plants go into survival mode and won’t produce fruit at all when it’s too hot to save their nutrients.

Then I read a “hot internet tip” that I could gently shake the stems of the plants to help instigate pollination. Apparently, shaking the plant can help pollen fall from the anthers to the pistils. I went outside several mornings in a row and shook the stems of those plants. It seemed a little far-fetched but I had nothing to lose. And maybe this would get me one step closer to that Eggplant Parmigiana I dreamed of making.

Do you know what happened? 

The following week I went out to see how the eggplants were doing and there were three plump, shiny-royal purple eggplants ready for picking.

Sometimes God’s creation preaches the most surprising sermons. Even though I’m a novice gardener, the metaphor was not lost on me. Sometimes we need a little shaking up to prompt us to flourish in the calling God has for us. 

If we go digging in the garden of the book of Esther, we see that’s true in her life too. In Esther 4, Mordecai shakes Esther from her sheltered palace life with news about an edict to exterminate the Jews. Queen Esther probably didn’t know about the plot produced by the evil Haman. He was ultimately irritated by her cousin Mordecai because he wouldn’t bow down to Haman. Then Haman allows his anger to escalate into punishing all of the Jews.

Mordecai, who was like a father figure to the orphaned Esther, challenges her to leverage her position and stand up for her people: 

“Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”
Esther 4:13-14 NIV 

Esther sends these weighty words to Mordecai in return: 

“Then I will go to the king though it is against the law, and if I perish, I perish.”
Esther 4:16 NIV

In these words, we see Queen Esther rise up with agency to step into her calling. Prior to this, Mordecai had always guided her, but now the queen begins to lead in her own way. She even urges Mordecai to gather the Jews in Susa to fast for three days as she considers her next move. The hidden hand of God is working in Esther and in these circumstances to rescue His people. 

Friend, I wonder if there’s something in your life that God is shaking or shining a light on today. Is there something He is calling you to do or say, or someone He is prompting you to reach out to or serve? Take some time to pray, bring your fears and hesitations to Him, and step up with courage “for such a time as this.”

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

Go Deep and Soar High

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When we raised our daughters, my husband and I wanted to give them two things: roots and wings.

First, they needed roots to ground themselves in God’s love. This rooting happened in obvious ways – praying with them, opening the Scriptures to them, and introducing them to the fellowship of believers. It also happened in the private moments of heartbreak, grief, and sickness that we all face – even as children.

Second, we knew our daughters needed wings. With wings, they could soar in their faith and fulfill their God-given potential, wherever He might lead. That meant opening their eyes to a world that existed outside of our farm, introducing them to other cultures, places, and people who didn’t look like us. It meant infusing them with courage to try new things, even if they feared failure.

Our daughters have matured into women, and it’s our great joy to see that their roots held and wings sprouted. Praise the Lord, it happened despite our imperfect parenting.

Our older daughter, Lydia, is studying for her master’s at Cambridge in England. Our younger daughter, Anna, is finishing up her final year at Iowa State University with plans to enter the mission field in southeast Asia, where she’ll share Jesus with unreached people. Anna will live, literally, on the other side of the world. If you would have told me a few years ago that those wings would take our girls so far away, I would have panicked! Yet we find ourselves here, knowing God has His own ideas about how wings work.

Lately, when I ponder our roots-and-wings philosophy as parents, I am reminded that this is how God parents us, too. God wants to give us roots and wings – so we can grow deep into His love and soar high into His call.

Let’s talk first about those roots. Reading the Bible, you can see that God has a soft spot for metaphor, especially metaphors involving nature – trees, vines, fruit, and yes, even roots.

For most of our lives, people tell us to “grow up.” But God mostly wants us to grow down – down into Him with deep roots. He desires for us to be “… rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught …” (Colossians 2:7 NIV, emphasis added).

We are parented by God toward rootedness in the same way that parents work to root their children in Christ – through worship, prayer, and His word. We need strong roots when inevitable storms come, to keep us steady when the winds of life blow.

Then, God parents us toward using our wings, reminding us that when we place our hope in Him, we will “soar on wings like eagles, … run and not grow weary, … walk and not be faint” (Isaiah 40:3 NIV, emphasis added).

And when we use those wings to fly, we can be assured that God goes with us.

“If I flew on morning’s wings
     to the far western horizon,
You’d find me in a minute—
you’re already there waiting!”
Psalm 139:7-12 The Message
(emphasis added)

God wants us to stay open to the unexpected ways (and places!) He might take us – even if it’s uncomfortable at first.

Take a moment to think about how God parents you toward rootedness. How has He helped you put roots down to hold you strong in the storms of life? If you feel unrooted today, ask God to give you strength.

Then, take a moment to think about how God parents you toward using those beautiful wings of yours. Maybe He’ll wing you around the world — or maybe around the block. If you feel like your wings are a bit battered, ask for God’s help. The world says, “Stay safe, and keep your feet on the ground.” But God says, “I got you, girl. Now spread your wings and fly.”

Today, may you sense God tending both your roots and your wings – so that you can go deep and soar high, for His glory and His name’s sake.

A Message from God I Didn’t Expect

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I stand at the kitchen stove and stir butter around in a warm pan with a spoon. My mind feels mixed up too. I close my eyes and whisper the prayer I’m learning to cling to in these moments: “God, what do You want to say to my heart today?”

Usually, a Scripture comes to mind. Sometimes I remember encouraging words from a wise friend. But this time a new phrase comes instantly: I love you anyway.

Tears fill my eyes because it’s exactly what I need to hear. My struggles sometimes make it seem as though God must be upset and far away. But He is still right there with me. And He is still for me.

When we battle depression, God loves us anyway.

When we fight anxiety, God loves us anyway.

When we mess up, God loves us anyway.

When we face doubts, God loves us anyway.

When we forget who we really are, God loves us anyway.

When we’re weary, God loves us anyway.

Whatever we’re struggling with today, God loves us anyway.

Do you ever have thoughts like, If people really knew all of me or what I’m going through, they might not love me the same? Me too — it’s such a human thing to do. But thankfully, it isn’t true.

For years I tried to prove I was enough. Perfect enough. Good enough. Experienced enough. Smart enough. Pretty enough. But it’s only when we come to the place where we can finally say, “I’m not enough but Jesus is” that our hearts get free.

The reality is, we will fall short of the expectations of others and ourselves. But it doesn’t matter because our extraordinary God, our gracious Savior, declares we are beloved and chosen and empowered anyway.

The world tells us we need to have self-esteem, but what we really need is holy confidence.

Self-esteem says we can do anything we want.

Holy confidence says we can do all things through Christ.

Self-esteem says we can belong in the right crowd.

Holy confidence says we belong to the Creator of the universe.

Self-esteem says our worth comes from what’s external.

Holy confidence says our worth comes from what’s eternal.

The Apostle Paul said we can live, “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6 NIV). Our confidence comes not from what we do but what God is doing in us. He has promised that all He has for us will be finished. We already know the ending of our story; it’s not one of shame but glory.

We are daughters of God created in His image. We are chosen to be part of His plan. We are promised that we will have everything we need for all He has called us to do. We have been forgiven and set free. This is the source of our hope. This is our security. This is why, in spite of our weaknesses and failures, we can walk in holy confidence today.

All of us forget the truth about who we are sometimes. That’s part of living in an imperfect world. But God is willing to remind us each day. He is with us, for us, and working in us beyond what we can see.

I carry my plate to the table and whisper, “God, help me truly believe I’m loved by You right now just as I am.” My prayer is the same for you. May we be confident we’re loved anyway. May we be certain we’re loved always, especially today.

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This post was inspired by our friend Holley Gerth’s new devotional book, 365 Truths for Every Woman’s Heart.

What truth does your heart need to hear today? Maybe you long to know that you’re loved, you have a purpose, or your future is secure no matter what happens. 365 Truths for Every Woman’s Heart is an invitation to spend time with the God who cares for you and draw closer to him.

In only about five minutes a day, you can strengthen your heart, deepen your faith, and remind yourself of what matters most. This book will encourage you each day, and it’s a wonderful Christmas gift for the women in your life too! For a limited time, when you purchase a copy, you’ll also receive the audiobook for free! Find out more at HolleyGerth.com/365… and leave a comment on this article to be entered to WIN a copy!

Then tune in to the (in)courage podcast this weekend for a conversation with Becky Keife and Holley. You do not want to miss their chat!

On Imposter Syndrome and Finding Our Identity in God

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Have you ever walked into a room and something inside told you that you didn’t belong there? Perhaps it wasn’t a whisper of not belonging, but a shout. If I’m being honest, that shout rings out more than I care to admit. Often, I try to bypass this shout by ignoring it. But just when I think it’s gone, there it comes, rising up again.

Recently, my amazing friend Abbey hosted a gathering for a group of professional women, founded by her business coach Leslie. I would classify Leslie as the poster child for what a professional businesswoman looks like, sounds like, and acts like. When I look at or define myself, “professional’ is never the word that comes to mind.

I’ve always worked a job, never a career. I’ve lived at the will of an employer by accomplishing their task list and punching a clock on their time. Over the many years I’ve walked with the Lord, He’s given me dreams and a vision of owning my own businesses, leading my own ministries, and even building a team to accomplish His purposes. Most of those dreams and ideas are still just that, dreams and ideas. I’m grateful that the Lord has opened some doors of opportunity in those areas, but it hasn’t looked like I imagined.

The morning after the gathering, Leslie hosted a workshop for casting vision and goal setting. I hadn’t planned on attending, but Abbey insisted that I needed to be there. So, I showed up, feeling extremely inadequate and, even more, underqualified. I sat in a room filled with women who were rock stars in business, leadership, and entrepreneurship. They had big visions and big creativity. They were brilliant and dynamic. They were shattering boxes and stereotypes and glass ceilings. Have I mentioned that I felt inadequate and underqualified?

Leslie went on to share her incredible insight, knowledge, and experience with all of us. I knew from the moment I met her that there was some purpose in us connecting. I wasn’t sure what it was. Then, she began to take us on a journey of diving deep into our identities. She began to speak of our inner SHEs and our inner HERs.

Our HERs are who we really are and who we are at our best. Our SHEs are everything else. They encompass our doubts and fears and insecurities. Leslie taught us that our HERs should eventually outnumber our SHEs. I sat back and took everything in. I took pages of notes. It was helpful to hear examples of how those inner voices played out in another woman’s life. In some instances, the SHEs were louder and in others, the HERs won out. Leslie spoke of how her thoughts and beliefs had changed over the years. Her mind had been renewed. I listened to women in the room, with tears in their eyes, wrestle with those same inner voices in their own lives.

The workshop ended and I thanked Leslie for the incredible gift she had been. The purpose for my being in this workshop had become plain. At some point that morning the Lord began to give me revelation on Leslie’s SHE vs. HER conversation. God said that HER is who He’s called us to be and that SHE is the voice of the enemy.

Those two days surrounded by these spectacular women were probably the clearest case of Imposter Syndrome that I had ever experienced. In that space, I could pretend it didn’t exist. God wanted me to confront some false identities I had taken on. False identities can be lies the enemy has spoken over us, lies others have spoken over us, or lies we’ve told ourselves. All of those lies are strongholds meant to distract us, keep us from the purposes of God, and prevent us from becoming conformed to the image of Christ.

We all have this battle in our minds over our identities. We need only to look at the world around us to confirm this reality. All the voices around us are constantly fighting for our attention — but so is the voice of God. 

I thank God for His Word. It is our sure foundation. His words speak life and ring true, just as His nature does — He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He is not a man that should lie. So when God defines us, it is immutable.

Ephesians 1: 1-14 reminds us exactly who we are in Christ. We are blessed with every spiritual blessing. We are chosen. We are holy and blameless. We are loved by the Father as Jesus is loved by Him. We are adopted into the family of God. We are accepted in the Beloved. Our inheritance is redemption through Christ’s blood. We are forgiven of our sins. We are saved by grace and sealed with His Holy Spirit.

If that isn’t enough, Scripture goes on to say that we are redeemed, delivered, and set free. We are righteous and made in His image. We are new creations who now have a friendship with God. We are no longer bound by shame. We have peace, joy, and hope in Him. He has good plans for us. We are no longer condemned. We have eternal life.

The choice is always ours. Who will we listen to? Who will we believe?

If you are struggling to believe your identity in God, I’d love to pray for you!

 

The Peace We Crave: How the Holy Spirit Transforms Our Turmoil

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Our souls desperately crave peace because without it — without Jesus — we’re in perpetual turmoil. Sin and self entangle us.

Without Jesus, unemployment and comparison can make us spiral into a cycle of just-try-harder. Without Jesus, broken relationships, battered reputations, and hidden addictions can turn up the dial of doubt and anxiety.

We need the Spirit to convict, save, and empower us! We need the peace of Jesus.

“When God our Savior revealed his kindness and love, he saved us, not because of the righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He washed away our sins, giving us a new birth and new life through the Holy Spirit. He generously poured out the Spirit upon us through Jesus Christ our Savior. Because of his grace he made us right in his sight and gave us confidence that we will inherit eternal life.”
Titus 3:4–7 NLT

Generously poured out the Spirit upon us. Do you see the gift? God didn’t give us barely enough of Himself so we could just scrape by on righteousness. He didn’t reserve the Holy Spirit as part of a bonus structure for “super Christians.” No, He offered the Spirit lavishly — and that Spirit produces fruit in our lives that includes the peace we crave.

The power of peace is abundantly available to you today. First, for the forgiveness of your sins. Then, as the overflow of your fellowship and partnership with the Holy Spirit.

Following his famous list of spiritual fruit in Galatians 5:22–23, Paul gives this encouragement: “If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit” (v. 25 NIV). When we stay mindful of and surrendered to the Holy Spirit, peace will be the result. We don’t have to strive for it. We don’t have to make finding fruit of the Spirit another item on our to- do list. We just get to walk in step with Him. That is, we get to let God’s Word and Spirit guide us moment by moment, day by day, one step at a time.

A PRAYER FOR TODAY

GOD, thank You that I don’t have to conjure up peace on my own. And thank You that I don’t have to navigate this rocky life alone. Holy Spirit, I recognize Your presence and Your power. What a gift You are! I’m so grateful that You chose to take up residence in my heart and that You promise to help me and teach me. Oh, how I need all the counsel You offer. Please continue to mold my heart with Your peace, convict me of unconfessed or hidden sin, and help me to walk in cadence with You. Amen.

Written by Becky Keife, from the (in)courage Bible Study, Create in Me a Heart of Peace. 

 

God Hears Simple Prayers Like “Help Me”

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The end of the day and the end of my rope occurred simultaneously. Under the nighttime sky, I curled up in a chair, wrapped a blanket around me, and cried a desperate prayer during a desperate time. Help me. Nothing else to pray; nothing left to say.

Another fight with my husband left me empty, tired, hurt, and angry. He spoke ugly things and I retaliated. A volley of nasty remarks and finger-pointing accusations. Help me.

When the verbal barrage ended, we retreated to separate spaces. I sought refuge under the stars while my husband found sanctuary in front of the television. In the darkness, I felt sick and sad deep in my soul. Hard questions with no easy answers flooded my mind.

After years of marriage, why was communicating so hard?

Why were we constantly wounding each other with our words?

Why did we give Satan a foothold in our marriage through that ugly exchange?

I searched the sky for a rescue plan as the list of questions grew. The moon as my witness, maybe God would perform a marriage miracle. Maybe a shooting star would grant me a changed spouse. Maybe my husband would seek me out, tell me he was sorry, and declare his love. But none of those happened. There were no cosmic interventions. Help me.

Time on my deck provided an opportunity to replay the heated battle. As my tears fell, I hung my head in shame but no one was around to notice. Heartache stirred up a reminder from God’s marriage guide and I was guilty on all accounts. I had violated what God outlined in His love chapter, 1 Corinthians 13:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (NIV)

Love is patient instead of flying off the handle.

Love intentionally chooses kindness instead of being mean and snarky.

Love doesn’t boast by yelling louder than your spouse.

Love isn’t easily angered even when your hot button gets pushed.

Love keeps no record of wrongs, so destroy the notebook of your spouses’ missteps.

Conviction poked my heart; a gentle nudging from the Holy Spirit. My head knew to ask forgiveness for my displeasing part but my heart still hurt. I didn’t want to face him and possibly risk another confrontation. So, I ignored the Holy Spirit and plodded off to bed alone. I needed more time and space and sleep brought both. Battle-weary, I buried my heart and sadness under the blankets and hoped my dreams would reveal this was just a crazy nightmare. Help me.

The next morning, my husband was up early and gone before I woke. On the kitchen counter, I found a note with no apology. He wished me a good day and signed it, A and F.

Always and Forever.

Those two words sounded like hope; they felt like love. He chose to take a baby love-step to close the gap that we ripped open in our marriage. A small gesture, but I held that piece of paper like a precious olive branch extended in peace. It sparked a tiny flame of encouragement to keep on keeping on.

Always and Forever meant he was still in the marriage and we would figure out the rest. Yes, the sting was still there and the wounds still fresh. But, he was staying in the game and I resolved to do the same. No-one was skipping out, because . . . love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.

God hears simple, desperate prayers like help me. Our Heavenly Father meets us in our dark, lonely places and loves us when we feel unloved and unlovable. His precious blood covers all our marital messiness . . . and more. If we hide His Word in our hearts, when we cry out in desperate times, He will whisper Holy reminders.

Our marriage is a work in progress — hard work and God will show us the way. We are two believers and two sinners living, working, and loving in a fallen world. Like many marriages, there may not be a fairy tale ending nor a happily ever after but small steps in the direction of each other instead of the door.

Help me grew into Help us.

And God will.

What If You’re Not Actually Missing Out?

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My 15-year-old got in the car after another late soccer practice. Under the glow of the parking lot lights, I could see his red cheeks and sweat dripping down the back of his neck. Carting my sons around to various practices and sporting events can feel like a Groundhog Day-esque experience — same drill, different day — but something about this night landed differently.

I looked at my firstborn and was undone with awe at the remarkable person he has become. So very handsome and smart and strong. Hardworking, respectful, and fun. I love the way he jokes with me and also shows affection. (Teenagers who hug their mamas are a treasure!) I could say the same thing about my other two boys.

Turning on the main boulevard toward home, I started to cry.

Tears flooded my cheeks, not just at the wonder of being a mom and watching babies grow into young men who I love (and also really like); I cried because my dad never got to see it.

It was my father’s birthday, the fourteenth he’s celebrated in heaven instead of having lemon meringue pie at Marie Calendar’s or garlic bread and extra meat sauce at Vince’s Spaghetti. I thought about my dad all day. Missed him. Wished I could see him. But after many years, the once intense grief now felt more like a gentle longing — until Noah got in the car.

Suddenly a new dimension of loss erupted like a long-dormant volcano.

It wasn’t just that my dad had missed out on more than a decade of holidays and baseball games, graduations, milestone birthdays, and competitive card games. I was keenly aware of how he’d missed out on knowing us.

And isn’t that our deepest longing? To be known?

My two oldest boys have grown in stature since their grandfather’s passing, from babes in diapers to muscular bodies that tower over me. (My youngest wasn’t even born yet.) But they’ve also grown leaps and bounds in personhood. Jude with his witty sense of humor and tender heart for Jesus. Elias with his endless words and entrepreneurial spirit. Noah with his quiet grit and excellence in all he does. And their Grandpa Ralph has missed all of it.

Then the ache went deeper. Not only are my sons growing and changing day by day, but so am I. I’m a different person than I was fourteen years ago. If only I could relate to my dad from the place of healing and groundedness in Jesus that I now live in. If only my dad could see how 28-year-old Becky was just a shadow of who 42-year-old Becky would become. If only we hadn’t missed out on so much time together…

I poured out all my sorrow to Jesus. Then He said to my spirit, You’re not missing out. You’re just waiting.

With that, peace and joy flooded my heart — not erasing my grief but coloring it with fresh hope for the family reunion awaiting me. A time when all the tension and turmoil that clouded my relationship with my dad will be replaced by wholeness and perfect love. A time when grandsons and grandpa will know and appreciate the fullness of who God created them each to be. A time when hours and months and years will never feel lost or wasted, only enjoyed and redeemed.

Heaven is not a fairytale ending that only exists in storybooks or a man-made silver lining. Heaven is real. Fixing our hope on the restoration to come completely changes our experience in the waiting.

Paul writes, “For we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and your love for all of God’s people, which come from your confident hope of what God has reserved for you in heaven” (Colossians 1:4-5 NLT).

Do you have confident hope for what God is storing up for you in heaven?

Later in his letter, Paul affirms the importance of keeping the truth of heaven in the forefront of our minds:

“Since you have been raised to new life with Christ, set your sights on the realities of heaven, where Christ sits in the place of honor at God’s right hand. Think about the things of heaven, not the things of earth. For you died to this life, and your real life is hidden with Christ in God.”
Colossians 3:1-3

Our real life is not the one here on earth, marred by loss and brokenness. Our real life is the one to come!

What grief weighs heavy on your heart today? What do you feel like you’re missing out on? What has your soul groaning, “It’s not supposed to be this way?” Tell Jesus about it. Tell Him everything that makes you sad and achy and wish it would be different. Then open your heart to receive what He wants you to know about it.

When we think about the things of heaven, our waiting is weighted with joyful expectancy.

One day my family will be reunited and restored. One day we will truly know and be known by my dad.

Thankfully we don’t have to wait for that to be true with our Heavenly Father. He already sees my children, pursues time with them, and delights in who they are becoming. The Father already knows me fully, loves me perfectly, and works all things together for my good.

We never have to wait for that to be true.

 

I Have a Love-Hate Relationship with the Holidays. You, Too?

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In the attic of my mind, where dusty cobwebs sit tangled and untouched, I keep vivid snapshots of past Christmases, the ones celebrated with tinsel on trees and stockings stuffed with small surprises.

In my heart, I hold a home where I collect memories of Thanksgiving gatherings, all of us seated in a sacred circle around Grandma’s kitchen table.

Holding these memories feels like holding a snow globe. At first, they’re beautiful—perfect and pristine. But when you shake the globe, that small world becomes blurred and obscured in a storm of synthetic snow.

Three weeks from today, our calendars will call upon us, ringing with alarms to remind us that Thanksgiving has come . . . that, Thanksgiving is here. I will wake and roll to my bedside, fumble into my house slippers, and drag my two aching feet across the cold floor, until I reach the darkened room where I light my candles, my little corner of the world where I cast all my cares upon the only One who can carry them. I will sit slouched in the same chair that I’ve sat and slouched in for the last three months, and I will ponder what I should pray, asking the holy One how a human like me might hold all the tension of a day like Thanksgiving, a day painted thick with both the pain of the past and all the promise of the present.

I am a mixed woman and in my skin, I carry the stories of diverse descent — I am ever discovering facts about my family history, ever naming the nuanced narratives of Thanksgiving and what it means for my people, and ever juggling nostalgic traditions along with the sorrow that surrounds this holiday’s formation.

I am a seeking woman, ever in search of the truth about Christmas. I love the carols and the greeting cards that carry tidings of comfort, but I hate the promotional Christmas-themed content and commercials that have already inundated our social media and stores. I love the gesture of giving gifts, but not when consumerism comes at the expense of our planet, one of God’s greatest gifts to us.

I am not a grinch; I’m just a girl seeking out ways to honor these holy days.

I am not a scrooge; I’m just a woman wanting to truly see the sacred in this season.

I’m just a believer wishing it was all written out in the Bible, or spelled out in the sand, or whispered loud in the wind. I’m not content with making guesses; I just want God to tell me how to do all of this right. What does God think about Thanksgiving? What does God say about Christmas?

Do our Christmas pageants and homemade pies bring God pleasure? Are we breaking God’s heart when our plastic presents pile up on this here planet? How do we honor holidays that hold histories of harm while making space for how they stir up stories of hope? How do we celebrate with joy when grief feels greater? How do we move forward in festivities when we’ve often lost loved ones along the way? How do we slow down and savor this season though it always seems to slip right through our hands? How do we hold our traditions in tandem with truth? How do we believe that God, our Emmanuel, is near and not bound between the books of the Bible?

I have a love-hate relationship with the holidays, and I bet you do, too. I bet you feel as much jaded as you do joyful. Though we are filled with gratitude for all God has done, we are also filled with grief for the weariness of this world. Though we believe in the miracles, we are also baffled by the mystery. Though we long to celebrate, we also long for certainty and to know if we’re doing any of this right.

Every year about this time, when the trees shake naked and the wind blows cold, I begin my annual oscillation, shifting back and forth between belief and doubt, wonder and fear, asking God to show me how to hold the days ahead. And while this year feels no different, and though I cannot claim to have all the answers, here is what I sense the Spirit saying to me:

The holidays are simply holy days.

As with any ordinary day, God is the One who makes holy the messy, the mundane, the magical, and the mystery. The only right way to go about the holidays is the same way we go about any other ordinary day — we invite God into our every moment. As with any other ordinary day, we make a humble home for God in the messy, mundane manger of our hearts. In our rising and our falling, in our coming and our going, in our laughing and our weeping, in our celebrating and our seeking, we focus on God, forever.

No matter the tensions you carry about the holidays ahead, may you hear the whisper of God inviting you to see the holy in all of your days.

—

Friends, I’d love to hold space for any tensions you may be carrying or facing as we enter the holidays. Comment below and share a little bit about what you’re going through — I’d love to encourage you.

The Election May Be Over, But May Our Important Relationships Move Ever Onward

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I’m gonna shoot straight with you: Today, the day after our presidential election in the United States, is one of my least favorite days — no matter who wins.

On this day every four years, I’m on social media minimally because, as one with friends and family who fall on all points of the political spectrum, half the people I know are despondent or mad-as-you-know-what while everyone else is throwing an absolute party.

In reality, I know there’s a large number of folks who aren’t “all in” with their candidate; they’re not so much voting for someone as against someone else. But still, as an enneagram 2 who absorbs tension like my hair absorbs humidity, the dichotomy between the more passionate people fills me with anxiety. I want to curl up in a ball, hide under my bed, and not come out for six months or so.

But because I’m an actual grownup with actual responsibilities, including the luck-of-the-draw that is having an article up today, there will be no such hiding!

If I don’t enjoy being around tension, as I’ve already said, you’ll be 0% surprised that I don’t want to add to it, either. In particular, I don’t want the important relationships in my life to suffer because I sit on the opposite side of the proverbial fence with a loved one or ten.

As a gal who’s not afraid to feel my feelings, I admit there have been times I’ve felt triggered because of another person’s strong views that opposed my own, especially if those views concerned a topic I care deeply about. But the older I get, the more my bandwidth for engaging with potentially contentious people shrinks. I won’t do it over social media, period, because too much is lost in translation through that incomplete way of communicating.

In person, I’ll only do so with those I trust to engage with me respectfully and productively — whether we think alike or not. Otherwise, no thank you.

But not everyone feels the same way.

So herein lies my question: How do you maintain a relationship with your loved one when you don’t share the same views—and their views keep coming up in the conversation? And therefore your relationship?

If you’re both levelheaded, perhaps you can discuss your differences calmly and reasonably. Thankfully, I have several friends with whom this is possible. But if someone gets bent out of shape because of an opposing viewpoint, the tension can take off faster than a prairie fire with a tailwind. ⁠

In light of that, here are three principles and practices that help me avoid letting opposing viewpoints come between me and my friends or family members:

Badgering the cat is a choice. Ivy is our kitty cat, and her mere existence just sticks in the craw of our dog, Rafa. Rafa simply refuses to rest when Ivy is in his vicinity. He stares at her. He follows her. He gets all up in her business. Eventually, he gets close enough to Ivy that she hisses or swipes at him, and then he dramatically shrinks back with offense.

As all of this unfolds, I say things like, “Rafa, leave Ivy alone. Rafa, mind your own business. RAFA, YOU CAN CHOOSE NOT TO BADGER THE CAT.” Every time, Rafa chooses to badger the cat.

But with wisdom and maturity, we can choose differently. If we take offense over a friend’s position, we don’t have to act on that offense. When we realize that keeping our opinions to ourselves doesn’t invalidate those opinions, we can relax rather than react.

Keep a few “tension-diffusing” phrases in your back pocket. My sister taught me my favorite phrase: “You may be right about that.” I love that because it conveys to the other person that you’re listening and hearing what they’ve said. It’s respectful yet non-committal. So, if someone badgers you or you just feel riled up, you can respond with, “You may be right about that!”

Keep a big-picture view. Jesus didn’t beat around the bush when he said, “As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13: 34-35 NIV). Sharing your perspective that another may disagree with can certainly be done in a loving way. On the other hand, prioritizing being “right” over maintaining a good relationship with someone is usually not a loving approach. Our motive makes the difference.

If, like me, you’re plumb haggard by all the election talk, that means you’re probably in community with folks carrying various points of view too. If so, you’re in good company. Jesus’s disciples included folks on opposite sides of the political spectrum, such as Matthew and Simon. Pastor Scott Sauls writes in his book Jesus Outside the Lines:

“Included in the Twelve are Simon, a Zealot, and Matthew, a tax collector. This is significant because Zealots worked against the government, while tax collectors worked for the government. . ..Despite their opposing viewpoints, Matthew and Simon were friends. . .”

The big picture view says that at the end of the day, loving people well can look like accepting that you don’t have to agree with them to love them.

This election may be over, but may our important relationships move ever onward.

For more practices and principles from Kristen on how to be a good friend to those you disagree with, visit here.

Comparison Is a Sign of Distrust

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“Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.”
Luke 12:27 NIV

“How old is your daughter again?” I asked.

“Fourteen months!” she responded.

Yup, just as I thought, her daughter was only a month older than my youngest, and yet my daughter was sitting in the stroller instead of playing. Why? Because she couldn’t keep up with the other kids as they ran, jumped, and climbed. My daughter was born with Down syndrome, which physically includes lower muscle tone than the typical child. This means that her timeline to do what typical kids her age are doing takes longer. Almost immediately, my mood plummeted.

We’ve all read the saying, “Comparison is the thief of joy,” right? Oof, I can attest to that. I wish it were as easy as saying, “Well, just don’t compare!” But sometimes, telling ourselves to stop comparing means we hinder breaking down why we compare in the first place, which is necessary to stop comparing.

Why was I comparing? Because I felt like she was left out, I was impatient, and most of all, I didn’t trust God’s timeline and provision for her. But as Scripture tells us, the wildflowers don’t toil and labor, and yet they grow exactly the way God intends.

Why did I let comparison steal my joy and amplify my doubts about my beautiful wildflower? So what if it takes her a little longer to do the things that kids her age are doing? So what if she never does something they do? She has her deliberate timeline, and my role as her mom isn’t to rush or push her but to guide and support her. I don’t need to toil and labor and worry! I need to trust.

The next time I saw this mom friend, I combated any initial comparative thoughts with one of openhanded trust. Over time, that surrender has meant greater joy in playdates and trust in God’s plan for my daughter.

Dear Lord, I say that I trust You, but I keep parts of me hidden. Help me open my hands and release my grip. I don’t want comparison or worry to take any more time. Amen.

Reflect: Where are you when it comes to comparing in your life? Do you see how it steals your joy? Where is your distrust louder than your trust?

—

Life is full of ups and downs. We have an idea of what’s good for us — but it doesn’t always match God’s plans for us. How do we learn to trust God’s timing, provision, plans, and perspective when we’re dealing with the unexpected?

Author Shruthi Parker has some words to say about that! Her new book, Living Open-Handed: Devotions for Surrendering Control and Finding Joy in the Unexpected, invites readers to surrender control to God’s all-sustaining power and His very good will as they discover how to appreciate the ins and outs and ups and downs that life brings. Through selected verses, devotions, prayers, and reflection prompts, this 90-day devotional will leave readers with a growing sense of faith — and maybe even an unexplainable joy — in the curveballs life throws at them.

Shruthi says, “I did not write this book from a place of being an expert but rather from a place of weakness. Repeatedly, challenging life circumstances kept me craving the balm of Scripture and truth every day, and the one little flame that kept my heart hopeful in the chaos was knowing God was good. I needed to hear it continually while also learning to surrender in all things, and this book was born. When I discovered my daughter was deaf, when my husband had cancer, when, when, when . . . God showed me I didn’t need a situation to have a neat ending to have joy. I just needed Him. And oh, the joy there is! If out-of-control situations make you feel like you can’t catch your breath, or fear feels too familiar day in and day out, this book is for you.”

Isn’t that so good??

Order your copy today. . . AND also, enter to WIN one of five copies that we’re giving away*! Leave a comment on this article and be entered to win.

Then be SURE to tune in to the (in)courage podcast this weekend for a raw and passionate conversation with Becky Keife and Shruthi. Listen on your favorite podcast app!

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and will close at 11:59 pm central on 11/13/24.

 

 

Remember This When Tension Rises and Anxiety Soars

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I cried in class last month, blinking furiously, not out of embarrassment but because I couldn’t see the page full of notes in front of me, and I didn’t want to miss a word.

Nearly ten years ago, I applied to seminary. My phone’s camera roll still holds the moment forever frozen in time: an acceptance letter held in trembling hands, glassy eyes, and my smile a mile wide.

The dream was paused before it officially began due to finances. But every Tuesday I drive across town to the divinity school on my old college campus, walk through a maze of hallways I still know by heart, and take copious notes in one of the Lay Academy classes. Although there’s no credit given toward a degree, it’s a wonderful opportunity to learn.

This year, when I read the fall course options, I knew I’d move my entire workweek around if necessary so that I could return to the classroom again. For two hours every Tuesday, two dozen men and women scribble notes, ask questions, and occasionally struggle to see through tears as we learn about Women in the Ancient Church, specifically the 2nd-5th centuries.

This might be the nerdiest sentence of my life, but I teared up when I grabbed a fresh notebook and new highlighters for the first day of class. My throat was tight with emotion as I walked across the campus that is forever near and dear to my heart, a place that has changed so much this last decade and yet will always, in some ways, be home.

But I wiped actual tears in room N101 as we read the prison diaries of Christian women who were martyred.

Every entry was descriptive and clear – the women knew exactly what was coming their way in a matter of days – but each one included the word hope and each was written with joy. I was both sobered and strengthened by their words centuries later.

I had never heard their names before, but they were there – the women were there – and their legacy of faith and belief points to one Name alone.

The following week, I stood with six other women, all of us spanning several generations, as we read from a transcript of second-century court proceedings. A decade has passed since I held a seminary acceptance letter in shaking hands, but the paper now in my hands trembled as we gave voice to the testimonies of seven Christian women on trial together. It was, in a way, an acceptance letter passed through the centuries, as one by one we declared the words of the women who went before us, each one refusing to deny the Name of Jesus Christ.

The air was thick, our eyes wide, and the room completely quiet except for a whispered “wow” that slipped into the silence as we returned to our seats. In the weeks since, with tension rising and anxiety soaring as we near Election Day in the United States, I’ve unexpectedly found myself returning to the words of the early Christians. Surely, in their humanity, they felt worry and anxiety over what the coming days would hold. And yet their words drip with peace, gratitude, hope, and deep joy.

The outcome of tomorrow’s election results will have a significant impact, affecting flesh and blood lives for generations, and I do not in any way mean to minimize this truth. But there is another truth running deeper, echoing from words spoken centuries ago: the Kingdom will not be shaken.

There have been difficult days before and there will be others ahead, no matter what tomorrow holds (or the next day, or the next, or the next). Jesus told us this would be the case, but He left a promise for us among the pain:

“I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have [perfect] peace. In the world you have tribulation and distress and suffering, but be courageous [be confident, be undaunted, be filled with joy]; I have overcome the world.”
John 16:33 AMP

The story is still being written, but we already know the end.

We the people are fractured and divided, but we the children of the Kingdom are forever secure.

Presidents and policies will pass away, but there is a Kingdom that remains, and so we have every reason to be filled with hope. Not a flimsy hope that comes and goes, but one that holds because we are forever held by the One who, even now, is seated on the throne.

May we rest in that truth and may we seek the flourishing of the place where we live (Jeremiah 29:7). In the words of Dr. Lucretia Carter Berry, “May we be people of peace, with voices of hope, doing the hard work of love.”

Our actions matter. Our words in both conversations and comment boxes will leave a legacy. After all, here we are in 2024 and the Christian women of the second century are still speaking, a truth that holds through the ages: the Kingdom will not be shaken.

May we listen with kindness, love well, and live with hope and deep joy. May we remember: The story is still being written, but we already know the end.

For more hope-filled encouragement, free lock screens for your phone, and book recommendations from Kaitlyn, follow her on Instagram!

A Prayer of Surrender

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“Let love and faithfulness never leave you;
bind them around your neck,
write them on the tablet of your heart.
Then you will win favor and a good name
in the sight of God and man.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to him,
and he will make your paths straight.
Do not be wise in your own eyes;
fear the Lord and shun evil.
This will bring health to your body
and nourishment to your bones.”
 Proverbs 3:3-8 NIV

Even though we wish we could see all that is to come, let’s open our hands and trust God with the unknown. His goodness and love continue to be true. Always. It’s who God is. His faithfulness endures through every generation. Our path is made straight by Him.

Lord, there is so much ahead of us that we can’t predict or understand, so much we wish we could control but can’t. We hold all the questions, desires, and longings out to You. We want to trust You, but we acknowledge that we need help with that sometimes. Help us. We believe, help our unbelief. Thank You that we are anchored in faith when we are tethered to You. We surrender our plans and our anxiety and open our hands to receive your wisdom and direction. In Jesus’s name we pray, amen. 

How can we pray for you?

On the first Sunday of every month, it’s our joy to hold space to pray for one another. Leave a prayer request in the comments and pray for the person who commented before you.

This Is a Reminder That God Is Holding Your Hand

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It was 1:00 a.m. and I’d been awake for seventeen hours.

Three days past my first baby’s due date, I didn’t know what to expect. When my water broke at 8:30 p.m. the evening before, my husband and I switched into fast gear. Gathering our “go” bags and rushing to the car distracted me from my contractions. As we drove forty-five minutes to our hospital I made phone calls, telling our loved ones, “This is it!” and “She’s coming!”

By the time we reached the delivery room, I was ready for relief. I changed into an oh-so-comfortable paper gown, and we buckled up for the ride. A few hours later, all was quiet. The nurses had adjusted the lighting, surrounding us in shadows. Across the room, my husband draped diagonally across a chair, asleep. He’d been up since 6:00 a.m. the morning before, working hard all day and then rushing here. I thought about how that upright wooden chair must’ve made an uncomfortable bed.

Another contraction hit and panic engulfed me. Until then, nurses had been in and out. But now my room was conspicuously empty. I can’t handle this, I thought. The contractions hurt too much and we had a long way to go. I struggled through the pain, my body tensing and fighting progress. 

Then, I sensed the Holy Spirit whisper: Rachel, pray through each contraction.

Why hadn’t that occurred to me before? Far too often, prayer comes to be my last thought in a crisis rather than the very inhale and exhale of my life.

A machine print-out unraveled beside me, tracing a wiggly line of peaks and valleys. I set my heart on talking to God and depending on Him for each mountain of pain. Instead of waking my husband, as I normally would have, I threw myself upon my Creator to carry me. 

And a wonderful thing happened — a verse came, as vibrant and personal as a love note: “Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will also help you, I will also uphold you with My righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10 NASB). 

The comfort was so real, and I outstretched my hand on my bed as though it was being held. I could feel the warmth of God’s hand — the One who recorded my days before one of them came to be, the One who knit together this baby within me. He was holding me and the life of my precious daughter.  

Twelve hours later, along with an epidural-induced nap and many shed tears, we seemed no closer to the finish line. My baby wasn’t descending, my body wasn’t responding to the signals my uterus was sending, and labor’s drumming was taking its toll on me. Carefully monitoring the baby’s heartbeat, the on-call doctor made a decision. Locking her eyes with mine, she spoke calmly but firmly: “We need to do a C-section. The baby is showing signs of distress.”

The next half hour was a blur. Within minutes, they wheeled me out the door and down the hall. My husband was barely in his surgical suit and booties before they began the incision. I lay exhausted, strapped down, bleeding, and shaking. Fear thrummed through me, as I waited to hear if everything was okay. The room became a whirlwind, finally crescendoing with the sound of a newborn’s fluid-choked cry — perhaps the most welcome sound in all the world. My husband briefly held her, then she was whisked away to receive oxygen. Soon I was settled in a recovery room.  

We made it through! The epic delivery we awaited for forty weeks, my water breaking, the long labor, the pain that loomed insurmountable, the middle-of-the-night hand-holding with my Almighty God, and the emergency that placed me under a scalpel — it all culminated in this moment. Before heading home, my delivery nurse stopped in to say, “Rachel, I want you to know you have a God watching out for you.” She told me that when the doctors opened me up, they realized my placenta was rupturing. “We could have lost you both,” she said. “You have a God watching out for you.”  

There are few moments when the shroud of earthly fog parts, we glimpse the eternal, and we see behind the scenes. This was one of those times. My God sat next to me, held my hand and reminded me not to fear. He upheld me and my baby, steading my doctor’s hand and saving my daughter just in time. And, in case I missed the realization, He sent my nurse to remind me of His grace in my life that day.

When I see it . . . and even when I don’t . . . He holds my life in His hands, carrying me through the hardest mountains. And if I have a God watching out for me, I know you have a God watching out for you, too. He is holding you, even through the heaviest and hardest of moments. Come what may, know and believe that He is carrying you through every heartbreak and every birth, every valley and every peak, every dark night and every bright day.

May you feel the warmth of His hand, just like I did that day, and may you sense Him reminding you not to fear.