Your Name Is Not a Mistake

Your Name Is Not a Mistake

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I’ve never liked my birth name – Ligia.

No matter how hard I looked, I could never find my name on personalized pencils or toothbrushes. Ms. Molly from Romper Room always kept me waiting, never calling my name while looking into that silly mirror. My name also sounded much like my father’s, which felt like a punishment. The sound of my name has triggered so many painful memories and hurtful feelings. There was only one tone in which I ever heard it said: loud and demeaning.

My name was also too complicated to pronounce. Correcting people’s mispronunciations is uncomfortable for me. As a Latina, I was raised to believe that children should be seen and not heard, so correcting anyone, especially those older than myself, was never an option.

Over the years, I have experimented with different names, hoping to find one that would suit me — one that would help me fit in while still highlighting aspects of myself that I was hesitant to celebrate. After much searching, and at the suggestion of a resume workshop facilitator who advised me that my last name was “Hispanic enough” but my first name was too complicated for potential employers, I decided to adopt the name Leah. The facilitator made a valid point: people might avoid calling me for interviews because, as she put it, “Who wants to sound stupid on the phone?” So Leah stuck!

I have read verses like John 10:3 (CSB): “The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.”

I have also come across Isaiah 43:1:

“Now this is what the Lord says—
the one who created you, Jacob,
and the one who formed you, Israel—
‘Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name; you are mine.’“

But I questioned whether I truly believe that God cares enough about something as seemingly insignificant as a name. After all, there are likely more important matters to Him in the grand scheme of life, right?

On a podcast, I was once asked if I knew the meaning of my name, Ligia. It struck me that I had never looked it up before. The question caught me off guard, so I quickly turned to Google to find the meaning. As I read, tears began streaming down my face. Emotion overwhelmed me. 

All I could utter was, “He knows me; He knows me by name.” 

The name I had long avoided embracing unveiled the truth about who God created me to be.

Ligia means “clear-voiced” or “sweet loudness.”

The gifts and talents He placed within me, along with the vibrant tone of my voice, were never insignificant. And though those entrusted to love and care for me may have overlooked or spoken against my worth, my heavenly Father never missed a beat.

He always knew me.

I had often associated my name with negativity, but at that moment on the podcast, I realized it had a purpose, starting from the moment I drew my first breath. Despite my hurts, sins, failures, and shortcomings, God chose me. And He chooses you, too, friend!

While the enemy may call us by our sins, God calls us by our names — not just our earthly names, but names that He has given us: Chosen, Loved, Seen, Forgiven, Whole, and many more. He created us in His likeness, redeemed us, and called us by name as His children.

I’m not sure what names or labels you may have carried throughout your life — perhaps not a replacement name like Leah, but terms such as rejected, broken, abandoned, alone, unloved, or lost. These are just some of the identities the enemy would have us believe are better alternatives to the one God has already given us: daughter.

I pray that you will embrace and live out your God-given name today and walk in authority as His daughter.

Regardless of what the world calls you, remember that you are His.

Trusting God’s Peace When Life Feels Heavy

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If I say, “My foot is slipping,”
your faithful love will support me, Lord.
When I am filled with cares,
your comfort brings me joy.
Psalm 94:18–19 CSB

If there’s a drum we should never get tired of beating, it’s this: it’s not about us. Clap it out with me: It’s. Not. About. Us.

Peace isn’t something you attain by striving. Peace is an outpouring of God’s goodness.

Whatever you’re going through today, whatever pain you’re enduring, grief you’re bearing, or load you’re carrying, Jesus understands your suffering. That’s what makes His life, death, and resurrection so miraculous, so complete. Because Jesus experienced every bit of what it means to be human — birth from a mother, betrayal from a friend, thirst, hunger, love, anger, joy, temptation, and agonizing death — we can trust that He understands what we’re going through. We can trust that His peace isn’t trite or superficial. It’s the peace of one who knows what it’s like to be knotted up and knocked down.

His peace lifts us up; it’s Jesus who carries us.

I don’t know about you, but when I’m in the throes of anxiety or dealing with a crisis or just bogged down by the slog of everyday life, I can start to believe things will always be this way. My current feelings will always overwhelm me, my current predicament will always be impossible to overcome. But Scripture tells us that we’re like grass that withers and flowers that fade. Does this mean that our lives are inconsequential? No! This means that our troubles won’t last forever — but God’s Word and His goodness will remain.

Paul, a man well acquainted with hardship, described it like this: “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (2 Corinthians 4:17 NIV). When Paul was being flogged or freezing in prison, I can’t imagine those things felt either light or momentary. So was Paul downplaying his pain? Was he telling believers to slap on fake positivity? No. Paul was preaching from an eternal perspective. He was saying that no matter what you’re dealing with today — a cough that’s keeping you awake at night, a family member who isn’t emotionally available, a dream that’s been shattered — God is with you, working through you, and preparing something that is so much better for you.

God is working on our behalf, and the hard things we’re facing today will have lasting value. This doesn’t mean that God causes our hardships. God isn’t the source of cancer or layoffs, verbally abusive parents or broken marriages. But God is able to redeem our pain. If that’s difficult for you to believe right now, I get it. Paul writes,

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”
Romans 5:1–5 NIV

There is purpose in what you’re going through today. And it’s possible that the very thing that feels like a barrier to your peace is actually what God is using to guide you to Him.

God’s peace through Jesus and God’s love through the Holy Spirit are what encircle us in our suffering. Remember how it’s not about us? God is the one who makes possible the journey from suffering to hope.

It’s okay if you feel like your foot is slipping. It’s okay if you’ve fallen down and cannot stand. Jesus, like the good shepherd He is, will gather you close to His heart and carry you. His peace is yours right where you are.

A PRAYER FOR TODAY

GOOD FATHER, my Shepherd Jesus, faithful Holy Spirit, thank You for being the ultimate source of my comfort and peace. I acknowledge that I don’t have power to overcome today’s challenges or secure tomorrow’s future apart from You. I need You. Oh, how I need You. Thank You for promising to steady me when I slip and carry me when I can’t go on. I love You. Amen.

by Becky Keife from Create in Me a Heart of Peace

 

We hope you’ve enjoyed this Sunday series from our Create in Me a Heart of Peace Bible Study by Becky Keife.

Go deeper this season with the Prince of Peace and receive the fullness of peace God has for you. Create in Me a Heart of Peace is perfect to do with women from your church, a couple of close friends, or on your own. Available on DaySpring.com or wherever books are sold.

Join us for special Advent devotions every Sunday in December!

He Welcomes Us Wholly + a Thanksgiving Recipe

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Lately, my soundtrack has been this playlist I created of autumn piano tunes. They’re soft, they’re contemplative, and they’re a wee bit melancholy.

All things I could say of myself.

It’s taken me over forty years to be okay with identifying as a joyful melancholic, but that is exactly what I am. I love a moody song. Grey days and the early sunsets of late fall and winter are my jam. I incline in the direction of Eeyore in my sighing and slight pessimism. I’m particularly gifted in dreaming up worst-case scenarios. My humor bends towards wry. I’m a writer, and melancholy spurs my inspiration.

I’m also an Enneagram four, and it’s said that we’re made of melancholic stuff. So really, I’m right on track.

All that is true. But there is still joy in my heart and sparkle in my soul. The love of Jesus lights me up, especially when I’m talking about the love He has for His daughters. I’m not a sad or downtrodden personality. I smile far more often than I frown. In high school, my nickname was Smiley.

I rock the grey space that stands between the black and white of joy and moody. Because of that, November is my month.

The days are cloudy and grey, the skies dark by 5 pm. We’ve started hunkering in at home, giving into the dipping temperatures and pull of the couch and a good book. We’re cooking comfort food; the slow cookers are unearthed and the ceramic stockpots are back in rotation. It’s soup season. Root vegetables are appearing on countertops, and twinkle lights are strung. We’re thinking about dipping our toes into the holidays, maybe wrapping a gift or two here and there.

November is the perfect in-between month. A time to prepare and putter in the kitchen. A time to gather in and come together. A time of expectation of what’s yet to come and thankfulness for what has been.

The calendar says November, and my heart says holiday season.

Now, when I say holiday season, I mean the entirety of the holidays which, for me, start in September with back-to-school and go through January 1st. So, as far as I’m concerned, we are smack dab in the middle of holidays right now. In our home, we celebrate the holidays in a big way. We don’t mix them up or clump them together — there are no two-fers here! But sometimes the Christmas tree is up before Thanksgiving. Sometimes the pumpkins come out in August. Maybe it’s because I worked at a Hallmark store throughout high school and college (and I still work for Hallmark as a DaySpring employee!), but I don’t mind Christmas in July. Or October. Or November. Or February. I just don’t feel like there needs to be a defined season of joy, a timestamp on peace, or a cutoff on cheer.

Jesus didn’t arrive with a “Do Not Open Before 12/25” tag. He came for us all, all the time. In the grey days of November. In the summer heat of August. In the slushiness of March and the blossoms of May. When we’re looking for Him and when we’re running from Him. When our hearts are soft and open, and when they’re hard and closed.

In all seasons of the year and of our lives, Jesus comes for us.

Whether your month includes gathering for Thanksgiving with family and friends, mundane days at the office, a kid who has come down with the flu, or decorating for Christmas, you can celebrate everyday grace, the kind that delivers no matter what. We can celebrate everyday gratitude, no matter our circumstances. We can celebrate our God, who was both born holy and grew up experiencing the everyday that we live. A paradox in and of Himself — the Holy of Holies wearing everyday flesh — what an amazing God.

As we welcome the holiday season, it’s okay to be our whole selves — melancholy, joyful, or a mix of both. He welcomes us wholly at any time, in any space, in all of our seasons.

p.s. If you want to put your tree up, listen to a Christmas song, or use peppermint mocha creamer in your coffee, go for it. You’re in good company.

Article by Anna E. Rendell from the (in)courage archives.

 

And now a new fall recipe for you!

The most wonderful time of the year is on the horizon, which means the holiday season is on our minds. We are making our menus to celebrate Thanksgiving here in the United States, and we’ve got a great side dish for you to add. This classic seasonal corn casserole from Nancy C. is just the ticket for stepping further into fall, celebrating Thanksgiving, and even tiptoeing into welcoming winter and Christmas. Scroll down for the recipe and to download a FREE printable recipe card!

Corn Casserole

Download the FREE recipe card here!

Prep Time: 10 minutes
Bake Time: 45-50 minutes
Makes 6-8 servings.

INGREDIENTS:

  • 1 (15-oz) can whole kernel corn, drained
  • 1 (14.75-oz) can cream-style corn
  • 1 (8.5-oz) box corn muffin mix (like Jiffy®)
  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, melted
  • 1 cup (8 oz) sour cream or plain Greek yogurt
  • 2 large eggs, lightly beaten

INSTRUCTIONS:

  1. Preheat oven to 350˚F. Lightly grease an 8×8” or 9×9” baking pan or casserole dish with butter or cooking spray; set aside.
  2. In large bowl, combine the corn and cream-style corn with the cornbread muffin mix, then add the melted butter and sour cream (or Greek yogurt). Add in the eggs, mixing everything well. Pour into prepared baking pan.
  3. Bake at 350˚F for 45 to 50 minutes, or until casserole is set and middle is firm.
  4. Remove from oven and serve while warm.

To create the beautiful look that Nancy created here, set the dish on one of these Tea Towels, bake the casserole in the Simply Elegant Baking Dish, and place silverware in the Enjoy Today Caddy. Then serve to family on chili night, as a side dish at Thanksgiving, or bring to a potluck gathering with friends! Find these serving pieces and more in the full Mary & Martha collection — now available at DaySpring.com.

And tell us – how do you tiptoe into the holidays?

Present Suffering, Future Glory

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I bought flowers for myself yesterday.

The grocery store had a sale. $6.99 for a dozen roses. White, yellow, hot pink. Long stems with full buds that I knew would soon burst into a glorious multi-petal display. For now, they hovered between sleep and wakefulness. Thus the price tag. But the hints of vibrant color spoke of a future glory, and I couldn’t resist.

So I bought a dozen. Shelled out the seven bucks and change. Drove home, carried them inside, through the living room, and into the kitchen. I found a crystal clear glass vase, filled it with lukewarm water. Then, I pulled the roses out of their packaging, trimmed each of the twelve stems to different lengths, and slid one stem at a time into the water, carefully arranging each to display their collective beauty.

Satisfied, I carried the vase to my office and set it on my bookshelf, directly across from my desk. Then I sat in my office chair and admired my roses. This is where I spend most of my days — in my office, writing, praying, learning, and collaborating. This is where I do the ordinary lackluster tasks of life and work. But now, every time I need a shot of beauty and hope, I turn and look at my roses. And something within me settles, exhales.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 NIV

It’s been a challenging week. Actually, it’s been a long stretch of multiple challenging weeks, one right after another. This happens sometimes; it’s part of life. There are good days and not-so-good days. I’ve lived long enough to know this is how it works.

I know you know something about this, too. You have your difficult days and weeks. Like me, you probably have days when the bad seems to far outweigh the good. Like a furious storm that blurs the landscape outside your window, all you can see is bad weather. When will it end?

When, Lord, when? 

This is why I bought myself a dozen roses yesterday. I knew I needed to stop looking at the rain and instead fix my eyes on future glory. I needed to remind myself that my story — your story — is yet unfolding. In the timeline of eternity, we hover between sleep and wakefulness, unable to grasp how it will all work out in the end. Goodness, what a mess it all seems! Who could possibly unravel the impossible knot that is this human existence?!

When, Lord, when? 

Though God may appear absent or indifferent, that can’t be further from the truth. He’s here, and He’s already put everything in place for a glorious unfolding. Like a rosebud hovering between sleep and wakefulness, resurrection is just around the corner. New life, better life, in glorious display, full of vibrant color that will take our breath away. And a beauty that will make us forget all about the rain.

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

Yes, Lord. Make it so. 

 

‘Yes Girl, Me Too’ Gratitude

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It was my turn to speak and my throat burned with emotion. We had each taken time to share updates about our lives before we jumped into board meeting business the next day. I sat among women who were different from me in many ways but got me in a way that few did. This small group represented decades upon decades spent away from their passport countries. They were acutely aware of the strange tension I sat in. Their stories that held echoes of mine had undone me. So when it was my turn to share, my initial coherent words crumbled into sobs that burst from my core.

Have you ever related to something so deeply that as soon as you hear it you’re like, “Yesss, yes, that is me”? Maybe your response isn’t melting into a puddle of tears like I did that weekend. Perhaps you react with a simple but exuberant exclamation of gratitude in your “Yes girl, me too!”

We don’t need an algorithm or a list of societal trends to let us know that there are circumstances that just hit us differently. There are areas we relate to in each other because although our lives vary, there are similarities in our experiences. I can’t say how many times I’ve sat in a group of women and our initial discussion on makeup turns into revealing all the places we stash tweezers in order to be ready to catch those stray hairs that seem to pop up when we least expect it. You know, when the sun hits just right.

Those moments with others hit us just right. They trigger familiarity and solidarity and perhaps remind us in seasons of tension that we are not so alone or unalike after all. There is fun and belonging in all the sometimes hilarious ways our aging bodies make our humanity known. Our quirks and personalities shine and flow within the context of these types of settings. Our knowing looks mingle with our laughter and rolled eyes and groans. The collective sounds of “Yes, me too” form the backdrop to deepening relationships — authentic connection.

Years ago when I worked full-time in youth ministry, I tried to be intentional to ease the initial nervousness in my cabin each summer at camp. I would gather the girls into the living room and with a huge grin on my face, dive straight into potentially awkward situations. I encouraged them not to be embarrassed when they had to take care of certain issues in the restroom. Yes, I went there with them because I wanted to name every unspoken fear they might have about being away from home for a week and rooming with girls they may not know. I reassured them that I had packed smell-good sprays and supplies — we were going to be in this together. Their collective laughs of “whew, you too” inevitably filled the room and set a more inviting atmosphere for them to lean into Jesus.

I thought of this recently when a friend sent me a funny video clip about how women in biblical times were separated from others during their monthly cycles. Growing up, I had always thought of it as some kind of punishment, but the older I got, the more I realized the provision in that process.

Can you picture that time away? And if monthly cycles matched, you would potentially be away with other women who got you, echoes of yes, me too, filling that sacred tent. Perhaps the conversations of our biblical sisters weren’t always rippled with peals of laughter. I’m sure the circumstances produced hormonal rawness and emotional vulnerability that wasn’t always pretty. But that’s the point, isn’t it?

Connection isn’t always clean and curated. Connection is lamenting and laughter over bodily rhythms. Solidarity can be understanding and uniqueness over ages, stages, and seasons. Similarities can be found whether we hold space in marriage or singleness. And those moments still relate to current and future generations like you and me.

Maybe we don’t have specific spaces for monthly separation set aside like our biblical sisters did, but we have living rooms, break rooms, kitchens, small groups, online communities, nursing mother rooms, dressing rooms, and more than we may realize.

And yes, even here, there is room to remember that though we are different, we are connected. You may not have access to the sisterhood you long for but aren’t you thankful for what we get to cultivate here? Here in this place too, our brokenness can be mended and burdens lifted by the words of our sisters echoing out the truth of Yes, me too, therefore girl, I see you.

 

Explore these themes of connection, belonging,g and more in Jenny’s faith-filled novel, Her Part to Play.

From Decades of Pain to a Thanksgiving Miracle

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There was a time in my life when my parents couldn’t be in the same room with each other. As a kid, I learned to wait on the wicker loveseat and stare impatiently out the large picture window. (Yes, it was the early nineties and we had wicker furniture in the living room.) As soon as I saw my dad’s black sedan pull into the driveway, I would yell to my sisters that it was time to go and we would race out the front door. Was I that excited to see my dad? Honestly, not really. I was just that eager to avoid him coming up to the house and igniting a possible confrontation with my mom.

In middle school, I remember standing up for my trumpet solo and quickly scanning the crowded gymnasium in search of supportive faces. I spotted my mom in the left set of bleachers and my dad in the farthest possible section to the right. In high school, when I got the lead in Oklahoma, my parents came to different shows, careful not to cross paths lest a community theater become a battleground.

There were a thousand spoken and unspoken hurts between my parents that spilled over into my heart. The way my dad wouldn’t help pay for my sister’s dance classes to make life harder for my mom. The way my mom didn’t hide her disdain for the summer vacations my dad took us girls on, which made me feel like my excitement was a betrayal. Fifteen years of marriage in and as many years of bitterness out. I never knew if their divorce was the right choice, the only choice. As a kid I never longed for them to get back together — I just wanted things to be different. I just wanted to escape the shrapnel of their pain.

At my college graduation, my dad pretended not to hear me when I asked him to stand next to me for a picture with our whole family — the original five. When I was getting married, my mom didn’t want to sit beside my dad and his new wife; my dad didn’t want to sit in the row behind my mom. Several verbal blowups and low blows left me gutted. Three days before my big day, I looked at my wedding dress hanging on the closet door and wondered if my dad would even show up to walk me down the aisle.

I share all this not as a catalog of grievances against my parents but to set the stage for the miracle I never expected.

Fast-forward several years to when my dad was in a difficult place in his life — well, difficult is an understatement. His second marriage had failed, as had his business and his health. Thanksgiving was approaching. Holidays are always extra complicated for kids of divorce. My sisters and I were all married at this point and had to juggle time with our in-laws and separate gatherings for our mom and dad. Now that my dad was single and struggling, the responsibility to host a celebration with him fell to one of us girls — an added stress when our individual lives were already maxed and being with Dad didn’t feel especially celebratory.

The details of what happened next have become a bit fuzzy through the fog of years. The question might have come through an email or group text thread, or maybe we were talking on the phone while I nursed a baby. Either way, I’ll never forget my mom’s words: “How would you feel if I invited your dad to join us for Thanksgiving?”

As I sat there speechless, my mom went on to explain how she understood what a burden it was to navigate three family get-togethers and how the busyness could take away from the joy of the holiday. She said she wasn’t sure if Dad would accept an invitation from her, but she felt like the Lord was asking her to extend it.

Honestly? My first thought was No way! I pictured the awkwardness of being in the same house all together. I thought about how I would take the chaos of bouncing from one Thanksgiving dinner to the next to the next over the tension of sitting at the same table with my parents for an extended meal. The family chasm caused by their divorce was way too wide to bridge with some mashed potatoes and gravy. Years and years of conflict and failed resolutions proved that reconciliation was impossible, right? So why even try?

Given our family history, this knee-jerk reaction was understandable — but it was also rooted in fear. I’m grateful to tell you that my initial response didn’t win out.

The first miracle was my mom asking my dad to Thanksgiving dinner. The second miracle was the doorbell ringing and my dad showing up in his classic corduroy slacks and argyle sweater and handing my mom a bottle of Martinelli’s. The miracles after that were too many to count.

As little ones threw corn kernels from high chairs and unspoken words passed in sideways glances between sisters, we made it through that first Thanksgiving dinner. My dad thanked my mom for inviting him and complimented her cooking. My mom thanked my dad for coming and gave him another piece of homemade pie to go. It felt a bit like I was living someone else’s life.

It was hard and uncomfortable and so very worth it. I left that dinner with a belly full of turkey and a heart full of praise. What I thought was surely impossible turned out not to be. 

From our pain God produced a miracle — and I’m still giving thanks.

That Thanksgiving dinner was the first of many times my mom and dad would sit together at the same holiday table. After that, there was a standing invitation for my dad to join our family celebrations. And I never want to get over the miracle of it. I never want to lose sight of the fact that what took place over plates of green beans and baskets of bread was the work of the Holy Spirit — and a bunch of messed-up people willing to surrender to the gift of His leading.

Think about it: My mom could have ignored the Spirit’s stirring. Pain and resentment could have blocked her from extending an offering of peace and compassion. My dad could have rejected the invitation. Pride and bitterness could have been barriers to reconciliation and connection.

My sisters and I could have dismissed the hope of family harmony. Anger and unforgiveness for the turmoil caused by our parents’ fractured marriage could have prevented the miracle God wanted to do in our family. I could have said the pain of the past was already too much to bear, so why open myself to the possibility of more?

There are a dozen or more reasons why that first family dinner should never have happened following fifteen years of brutal divorce aftermath. But God . . . (Oh, those two small and mighty words.)

But God was working for the good of those who love Him. And that’s the wild thing about what His Word promises! “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28 NIV).

Did you catch that? All things. God doesn’t just use the moments of our lives that we deem worthy of an Instagram highlight reel. He doesn’t reserve His work only for the times when we get things right, when we walk without stumbling, when we run without being wounded by the pain of our own making. He works all things together for our good. The only qualifier is that we love Him.

I showed up to that unexpected Thanksgiving dinner still carrying old wounds crusted over with the scab of time. I came with my guard partly up and plenty of skepticism stuffed in my back pocket. But I came to the table. And so did my mother, my father, and my sisters. Sometimes just showing up is the beginning to building new bridges of connection. Showing up with a hefty dose of humility helps.

Humility says I’m willing to give the other person the benefit of the doubt.

Humility says being right or even being heard is not the most important thing.

Humility says I’m going to do my best to love well regardless of how someone else chooses to respond.

I didn’t hear those exact words come out of anyone’s mouth that November night, but each person’s actions spoke volumes. And God’s voice in our midst was the loudest. I’m not sure who else heard Him, but I couldn’t ignore the tender, relentless assurance of the Spirit saying, See Me. See how I’m doing the impossible. See how I’m answering prayers you didn’t even know to pray. See how I’m infusing hope and life and healing into your family in ways you never could have imagined.

Perhaps that’s what the Holy Spirit is whispering to you today too.

Written by Becky Keife

Today’s devotion is an excerpt from Becky Keife’s chapter, “What If Pain Is the Stage for Miracles?” in our (in)courage book, Come Sit with Me.

Being human is hard. Being in relationships with other humans is even harder. People are complex and relationships are messy but loving one another well is possible. Whether navigating political or religious differences, dealing with toxic people or our own unforgiveness, this book tackles the struggles no one really wants to talk about. But there is hope! We can actually grow closer to God and others through the circumstances we’d rather run from. Come Sit with Me will show you how. 

How has God worked out the impossible in your life? Or where do you need Him to reframe your pain as the future stage for a miracle? We’d love to hear.

Four Fun Little Ways to Focus on Faith, Family, and Gratitude This Year

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Years ago, I managed a parent’s morning out program at church, and my role included curriculum and craft planning. Oh, how I loved fall’s inspiration. I didn’t have to look beyond my front yard and calendar for ideas – leaves changing color always put on a spectacular show, and the Thanksgiving holiday built an easy theme of “thankfulness” for our toddlers.

As a mom of three, I always loved whatever crafts my kids brought home. Is there anything cuter than a turkey created from a little one’s hand or an excessively embellished construction paper maple leaf? (Though glitter might just be a teacher’s sparkly payback to parents for a classroom full of rambunctious children.)

I’m one of those people who genuinely appreciates “the reason for the season” when it comes to holidays, and at the heart of Thanksgiving is gratitude. Maybe it’s hokey, but I truly love hearing what people are thankful for as we circle around the table, drawn together by family tradition.

Turkey, dressing, and all the fixings are a fine feast for the body, but conversation and connection among people you love is a life-giving feast for the soul.

Old Testament to New, the Bible has a lot to say about thankfulness; in the ESV translation, there are 162 mentions of some form of the word “thanks.” That tells me it’s important to God. And, what’s important to God, should be important to you and me.

Proverbs 22:6 (ESV) says, “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old, he will not depart from it.” In a world that seems to be increasingly, well, rude, it is more essential than ever to instill gratitude and godliness in our children. True, children are most captive to a parent’s authority while living at home, but we can still influence adult kids whenever we’re together. When we model godly attributes, it continues to reinforce what they learned when they were young.

It’s equally important to remember that your influence isn’t limited to children in your life. Everyone we encounter can be impacted by how we live and how we treat them.

Even if you’re in the midst of a really hard season – especially if you’re in the midst of a really hard season – it’s important to look for reasons to be thankful and to express your gratitude to God.

So, with the Thanksgiving holiday nearing, regardless of who you’ll be celebrating with, why not be intentional about encouraging a thankful heart?

Here are a few fun ideas that will engage family and friends of all ages:

Make a Thankful Box. Over the years, submissions to our Thankful Box were “required” before eating Thanksgiving dinner. Paper, pens, and any old box will do. Multiple submissions are encouraged. Over dessert, while everyone is still seated at the table, it is so much fun to pull slips from the box and read what everyone contributes. We did it anonymously, and there’s an added measure of fun to guess who submitted the more creative entries.

Create a Thankful Banner. Tape a poster board or large sheet of craft paper in a spot where everyone gathers, making sure it’s at a reachable height for all. Have colorful markers nearby. Write “I am thankful for…” in the center of the banner, and direct everyone to add their own ideas. We did this for the first time last year, and I left it up for months after Thanksgiving. (Our children all live out of town and this was a sweet little way to keep their presence near – bless my mama’s heart!) What I didn’t expect were the comments from friends who saw the banner long after Thanksgiving was over. They said things like, “We need to do something like that!” and “What a great idea!” It showed me how you can guide others to focus on something meaningful and gently point them to Jesus through the answers you write on the banner.

Sprinkle your table with “thankful” Bible verses. As I mentioned, the ESV translation lists 162 Bible verses about thanksgiving. A simple way to focus on gratitude is to print out your favorite verses and place them around your table. You could also ask friends and family ahead of time to think about their favorite “thankful” verse and then share them during your Thanksgiving meal.

Include a poetry slam. Prior to your Thanksgiving celebration, invite guests to write a gratitude-focused poem. Now before you dismiss this idea, I can tell you from experience your guests might surprise you. While I’ve never done this for Thanksgiving, I’ve thrown out the challenge to our missional community (small group), and they far exceeded my expectations. I suggested writing haikus because they’re only three lines, but everyone was free to do whatever they wanted. The creativity of those both old and young was impressive. Try this, and you’ll be delighted by the response.

What are your traditions or practices that cultivate gratitude among your family and friends?

It pleases God when we express our gratitude for what He has done for us through the life, death, and resurrection of His Son. When we understand the gospel’s good news, how can we not be thankful?

So, this year as we gather around tables, when many of us are fighting hard battles, let’s find fun ways to focus on faith, family, and gratitude. The impact may linger long after the table is cleared and the dishes are washed.

The Broken Made Whole

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Last year I had a huge crack in my windshield from a rock that flew up and hit my car on the highway. Luckily, I had insurance to cover the cost of replacing it. But then a month or so later, it happened again. I was very upset because I knew I would have to wait a whole year to get insurance to cover another replacement. The good thing about this crack, though, was that it was super small and ran along the very top of the windshield on the passenger side. It actually wouldn’t be a problem at all. In fact, I forgot all about it.

Out of sight, out of mind… until it wasn’t.

Now it has almost been a year, and that tiny crack has slowly made its way directly into my visual field. There is no ignoring it anymore. I see it clearly every day and it distorts my view. I have to look over and under it. It has been so annoying that I talk about it with my husband at least once a week.

I think this is how most cracks happen in our lives. Something hard, painful, or traumatic happened in our childhood or early adulthood creating a fracture in our identity or relationships. But we can keep living life until one day that little crack becomes something we can no longer ignore. We feel the discomfort it brings up. We see it in our stories. It is distorting the way we see ourselves, our world, and even how we see God. It is impacting our relationships and influencing our decisions. This wound feels too big for all the bandaids we’ve placed on it. It requires real and deep healing that we can’t handle alone.

In John 4, we meet the Samaritan woman with fractured relationships and broken self-worth.

Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come here.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you now have is not your husband.”
John 4:16-18 ESV

We are not told in the text the exact event that first created the crack in her life, but we can tell by this glimpse into this woman’s story that she is wounded. As we read about her encounter with Jesus, it’s clear she has a distorted view of life.

She is isolated. Whether an intentional decision to avoid people or because others have rejected her, she came to the well alone at the hottest part of the day, which is an uncommon practice.

She is insecure. Her immediate response to Jesus asking for water is to point out the racial and gender difference that makes her less than Him.

She is defensive. She tries to push Jesus away. “Are you greater than our Father Jacob who gave us this well?” As Jesus digs deeper into her personal life, she avoids the topic and shifts to blaming the Jews for telling Samaritans where they ought to worship.

Her brokenness was visible to her, to her community, and to Jesus. And while everyone else chose to ignore it, Jesus went out of His way to travel through Samaria and visit at a well to make her whole. Jesus chose this broken woman — with all her trauma and cracks — to be the first person to know that He is the Messiah. Not His disciples or His family, but her. And she becomes the first evangelist.

So the woman left her water jar and went away into town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?” They went out of the town and were coming to him.
John 4: 28-30 ESV

Shame had silenced her and caused her to hide. Rejection had told her that she was beyond repair. But after meeting Jesus, she ran to the very people who rejected her and joyfully proclaimed her encounter with the Messiah! The story that once caused her shame became her ministry platform to point people to Jesus.

Friend, we all have these cracks. God can use the pain you’ve endured for a purpose, but living in the brokenness is not your purpose. You are meant to have abundant life and wholeness. So will you allow Jesus to expose those wounds so He can heal you from the inside out?

Jesus will not allow shame to steal your identity nor rejection to steal your purpose. He is waiting for you.

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.

—

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.