Set Down Your Expectations

Set Down Your Expectations

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We live in a time and culture where you can get just about anything you want right when you want it. The other day, I didn’t have time to run to the store for filters for my air purifier but, with a few clicks, it was at my doorstep the next morning. When it comes to social media, my algorithm is completely different from my neighbors’ which is completely different than their own spouses’. Everything seems to be tailored to us and provides instant gratification.

But when it comes to church participation and building friendships? We sometimes expect things to be just as instant. But the truth is that this outlook is transactional and even objectifying.

Our culture has taught us to see one another as objects. In dating, maybe you have a list in your head of what would make the perfect spouse. What qualities do they have? What are your preferences? And that’s all good and well – we should have standards for a healthy partner. But have you considered that you don’t actually want what’s just on a list but a human being to be in partnership with? 

Have you considered that this person will have flaws and they’ll change over time? 

Or maybe those things that you think you can change aren’t going anywhere?

I know a whole lot of people who say that if they’d met their spouse in another context, they might have passed right by because they weren’t the “idea” of the person that was in their head.

Do we have an idea of what the perfect church or friend is? Do we long for an ideal place full of people who always do exactly what we want them to do? Or do we deeply love the church for what it actually is – flaws and all? 

I have to admit that I often want relationships with people who reach out to me first. I hope that I’ll never have to be the one to initiate getting together. But I have to ask: am I willing to reach out more than once or twice to connect with someone? Do I long for the good of others so much that I can get out of my own way and love them without needing something from them?

A.A. Milne, the author of Winnie-the-Pooh, writes, “You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.”

As a single woman who lives alone, I am learning to treat my church like a true home and the people inside it like a true family.  And part of that is recognizing the fact that I’m going to let them down and they’re going to let me down. There are going to be moments when we disagree and there are certainly going to be moments when our calendars do not line up and one or both of us will believe that the other just doesn’t care. When we remember that we are committed to one another, it allows us to start seeing our friendships in the church like we see our family — commitment that transcends seasons and schedules. 

But just like a family, a church is made up of people who carry sin and all kinds of baggage. So as much as I believe the church is a home for us, I also carry that in tension with the fact that there is hurt and nuance to relationships because we’re all broken in some way. Jesus is making us new, yes, but we’re not going to be perfect on this side of eternity.

This thing that we’re doing? Coming to church and choosing to be with one another? It’s not always easy because home is not always an easy place to exist.

Luckily, we have many examples in Scripture of how to relate to one another.

Jesus does not call us only friends. Or only followers. Or only co-laborers. No, He also calls us family.

On the Cross, when Jesus is dying, He sees His mother, Mary. As the eldest son he knows that she needs to be cared for, so He turns to John. John 19:26-27 (ESV) records, “When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, ‘Woman, here is your son,’ and then he said to the disciple, ‘Behold your Mother!’”

Jesus is always reminding us that we belong to one another.

By the grace of God, we are given the gift of imperfect friendships. When we set down our desires for perfection, we find people who are actually present in daily life. When we set aside our assumptions and demands, we can encounter — in the most unexpected ways — people who are trying to figure out how to live like Jesus. 

When we fix our eyes on Him, we can be planted on steady ground. 

Our hope is not in the relationships we find in the church, but our shared hope gives us everything in common, even if we would otherwise be strangers.

So we have to start with the start. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by making friends at church, begin by asking someone to lunch or inviting them to meet you for ice cream. Listen to their story. You might be surprised at how fun people are when you see them for who they are and not just who you expect them to be.

 

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

God’s Word Is Infinitely Better Than the GPS in My Car

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The night was dark and rainy. I was working in an unfamiliar city, depending on Google Maps to tell me how to get back to my hotel. As I looked for a landmark I recognized, an arrow on my dashboard directed me to turn left, and the oh-so-familiar voice of Google’s assistant confirmed the command.

I turned into oncoming traffic on a four-lane divided highway that had businesses obscuring the median. When I saw headlights coming straight toward me at 55 miles per hour, I thought, “That’s a crazy driver.” When a second person laid on their horn and swerved out of my path, it dawned on me: I was that crazy driver.

Oftentimes, the loudest voice is the one in my head. But, that voice isn’t always telling me the truth. Though the words are never spoken, I hear them clearly. The voice of comparison whispers things like You’re not as pretty as that girl. You’re not as talented as that woman. You’re not as good as that lady. You’re not as loved as she is. You’re not as smart or as strong as her.

This voice misdirects me, and I crash into a pileup of jealousy, insecurity, strife, sadness, and fear. That’s when I most need to hear the voice of my Father, telling me that I am His marvelous workmanship, knit together in my mother’s womb. I most need to hear my Father telling me that I am delicately formed and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:13-14).

Yet, even knowing this, when I look in the mirror, I can still doubt myself. I see my flaws as if they’re under a spotlight and then I falter. I want to see myself as my Creator sees me, to hear His voice above my own inner voice. I want to believe everything that my Heavenly Father says I am and can become. I want to fulfill my purpose and live abundantly fulfilled (John 10:10). But more times than I’d like to admit, I listen to the lies instead and turn away from His love and His truth.

Recently, I used Google Maps again when driving to a friend’s house for the first time. She lived on a lake, so the roads were narrow and twisted as they wound around the water. In no time at all, I was lost — and, yet, the voice of Google Maps told me, “You have arrived.” The home in front of me looked nothing like the picture my friend had sent me of her home. Now I was lost and running late and wanted to yell, “What? This isn’t where I need to be!?”

If I’m honest, this also happens to me spiritually — a discrepancy between what others see and what I see. Especially during times when I feel disconnected from God, I look critically at myself, my family, and my house. On the outside it might appear that “I’ve arrived” at a measure of success or happiness . . . yet I feel discontent.

My current location doesn’t look like I envisioned. I want to be further ahead with my goals and feel more confident. I want to look different or, at least, look at myself differently. That’s when I most need a Savior because I need to be saved from myself. I need His Spirit — my Comforter, my Counselor, my Helper, and my Friend.

God’s Word is infinitely better than the GPS in my car. In fact, I think of it as the best kind of GPS: God’s Powerful Spirit. As Christians, when we need direction, you and I can be assured and pray Psalm 119:105-107 (MSG): “By your words I can see where I’m going; they throw a beam of light on my dark path. I’ve committed myself and I’ll never turn back from living by your righteous order. Everything’s falling apart on me, God;  put me together again with your Word.”

While Google Maps and technology are forever changing with system errors and imperfect updates, God is unchanging — and His ways are perfect. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. I’m so grateful for God’s Word that directs me, and the Holy Spirit who grants me discernment and peace concerning my path.

When we don’t know which way to turn, we know we can turn to God by opening our Bible, praying, and listening for His perfect voice. His Spirit is always available to direct you and me.

If You’re Worried About Being Too Needy for God

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“Mom, can I connect to your hotspot?”

“Mom, do we have any snacks left?”

“Mom, can you please add this game to my iPad?”

“Mom, can you get granola and bagel chips when you order groceries?”

“But why can’t I have a phone if everyone else has one?”

“But why can’t you just trust me? I said I wouldn’t mess up again!”

“Mom, I need to connect to the wifi!”

“Mom, my math teacher said I need this really fancy calculator.”

“Mom, did you sign the permission slip?”

All summer long, my kids have pushed on every single boundary I’ve created for them. They’ve also pushed on every single nerve I have left, asking and demanding and requesting and begging for all the many things they want and think they need.

As a human, I grew exhausted by all this real fast. And it wasn’t long before my weariness turned to irritation, and my ability to respond gently deteriorated with every new question. I even resorted to saying out loud, “Can you just give me ONE DAY without asking me for something?”

One day. It’s all I asked for – and it never happened. They had questions and requests and arguments and needs-that-aren’t-really-needs Every. Single. Day. The whole summer.

Like a rookie, I thought perhaps it would get better when they went back to school. As if I’d never had kids in school before! Because as any seasoned parent knows, the demands of the school year might be different than those of summer . . . but they are still there. They are still demanding.

In an unfortunate bit of bad timing, my family traveled out of town right after my girls’ school year began. We made it through school supply shopping, back-to-school night, and the return of early morning alarms – and then we packed our suitcases and climbed into a rental car for five days of forced family fun.

At one point, after many hours in a minivan and one request for wifi too many, I put in my earbuds and pretended to be asleep.

I’m not proud of this mom move (and don’t worry, I wasn’t the only adult in the car!). But in that blessed break from being bombarded by my kids and their road trip needs, I felt God nudge me.

While I didn’t hear an audible voice, I imagined God bemused, saying in that moment, “You’re refusing all requests now? You’re telling your children to stop coming to you with their needs? I would never!”

It also occurred to me that while it’s legitimately annoying to be asked for something in such a nonstop manner, I am also grateful my kids feel safe asking me for what they want and need, whenever they want and need it. I’m grateful they trust that I will provide for them and that, even if I get grumpy, I want to hear from them about big and little things, about their thoughts and feelings, desires and needs. I don’t really want them to give me even one day of silence. (Though I would take an hour!)

God is the same – but not quite, because He’s so much better.

I am a fallible human parent, while God is a perfect heavenly Father. I am tired all the time; He is tireless and timeless. I am easily irritated and quick to snap, while He is endlessly patient and quick to listen and to care.

The Old Testament is full of conversations between a listening God and His children, full of stories that show how deeply God cares for His people. In the New Testament, Jesus calls people to Himself again and again. And He continually reminds us that God is a good, good father who has good, good gifts for us.

“You parents — if your children ask for a loaf of bread, do you give them a stone instead? Or if they ask for a fish, do you give them a snake? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him.”
(Matthew 7:9-11 NLT)

As the past couple of years have been long and difficult to endure, I’ve grown reluctant to pray, wondering if God is tired of hearing the same questions, the same demands, the same laments. In my desperate attempts to cling to hope and joy, I’ve counted every small and smaller gift – and then wondered if maybe that’s all I can expect, all He has for me.

But God says no! He promises to work all things together for good and to be with us, no matter how obnoxious we get. (That last part, of course, is a paraphrase but I don’t think it’s wrong.)

So if you’re worried that you’ve worn out God’s patience with your requests, let me put your mind at ease. He is the best Father we could ever imagine (better, even!) and will never roll His eyes or pretend to be asleep when we need Him. He’ll never tire of our needs or our neediness. He loves us more than we love even our own children. His love is greater than our mess and confusion and desperation, and beyond comprehension.

Take your needs to God, big or small, old or new, first time or millionth time. Ask and ask again. He will listen, and He will provide.

 

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

How to Simply Receive the Rest of Jesus

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The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
    He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
     he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
    for his name’s sake.
 Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
    for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.
Psalm 23:1-4 NIV

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the dresser—no, through the dresser. My eyes are glazed over; I’m not really looking at anything. My shoulders sag, and my whole body feels as though I’m a wilting plant in need of sun and water.  

I’m exhausted.  

I’ve been saying yes to all the things that I can’t say no to — family obligations, mommy duties, household upkeep, and work deadlines. And then there are the yeses I say for my own well-being — therapy, life-giving friendships, time alone, church, mentoring. Throw in a celebration for someone’s birthday, a coffee date with a friend I haven’t seen in a while, or a visiting family member, and the calendar seems to explode at the seams, with no wiggle room even to breathe.  

And running in the back of my mind is the low-humming anxiety that I’ll drop the ball somewhere and won’t realize it until it’s too late. I can almost sense failure lurking around the corner, waiting for that ball to drop.  

I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. The slow, deliberate breathing wills my body and mind to settle down. I want to curl up like a baby and be carried away to somewhere quiet so I can rest, and closing my eyes, I imagine God doing this for me. I don’t have to hold or control everything so tightly when I’m held in His arms. I can relax. I can truly rest.  

I lie on my bed, where I hold my palms open to my sides and close my eyes again. By habit, these verses come to mind — the words embedded into the deepest parts of me since my childhood days of memorizing Bible verses for Sunday school: “He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul” (Psalm 23:2–3). 

Imagining the water, the green, it feels like the space I’m in expands. I don’t have to be controlled by my to-do list. I don’t have to do all the things or meet with all the people, even if all those things would have been good or beneficial for me.  

I still need to do the things I need to do, but I look at the calendar with fresh eyes. I cancel meetings where I can. I choose only the absolutely necessary things to get done for the week. I talk with my husband about all the responsibilities I carry, and we hash out how we can better share the mental and physical loads.  

In small but decisive ways, I simplify my life. And more than that, I find rest for my soul in the sliver of the day where I pause to breathe, to imagine, and to say yes to God’s invitation to come and receive His rest.  

Devotion by Grace P. Cho as published in Courageous Simplicity: Abide in the Simple Abundance of Jesus

By trusting the Good Shepherd, we can experience the radical simplicity of peace, contentment, and courage. As the apostle Peter encourages us, “Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you” (1 Peter 5:7 NLT).

This is the kind of encouragement you’ll find in our (in)courage Bible Study, Courageous Simplicity. It’s on sale for only $10 for the month of September only on DaySpring.com. Check out all the monthly markdowns and grab more (in)courage Bible Studies at this amazing price!

 

A Prayer for Teachers + a Recipe for Crumb Coffee Cake

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“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
Philippians 1:3 NIV

As far back as I can remember, teachers have played a significant role in my life.

In second grade, Mrs. Barber invited me to an after-school poetry club, instilling a love of alliteration and rhyme in my eight-year-old soul. In fifth grade, Mrs. Ball could tell something was wrong when I normally got straight A’s but flunked a history test. She kept me in at recess and hugged me as the stress of my parent’s divorce leaked out in weighty tears.

In middle school, Mrs. Lunsford encouraged my imagination and said yes every time I proposed a new way of doing an assignment, like making up a song about the thirteen colonies. In high school, Mr. Allison modeled a true passion for literature and deep care for his students. He wrote in my yearbook that I could be the next Hemingway or Fitzgerald or whoever I wanted to be. And in graduate school, Dr. Bentz came alongside me on my journey as an aspiring author, generously sharing both knowledge and encouragement as I began my publishing journey.

Each of these teachers saw me. And I thank God for each one.

Now, as a mom of three kids, my gratitude for kind, enthusiastic, passionate, and skilled teachers has continued to grow. I’m grateful for Mrs. Halbert who saw my son’s reading challenges and provided the extra support we needed. I think of Mr. Vigil who celebrated my other son’s out-of-the-box thinking — making space for his wiggles and quirks instead of trying to stuff them in a hard chair. I’m thankful for Mrs. Cliffe who loved each student as if they were her own, and was intentional to call out the strengths in my other son — strengths I hadn’t yet seen.

Those are just a few highlights of my life in the classroom as both a student and parent. Highlights that don’t begin to acknowledge the long hours and endless creativity teachers pour out. Highlights that don’t speak to the lows of discipline issues and budget cuts, hard mornings and grueling afternoons and nights spent grading papers and planning lessons at the cost of time with their own families.

Teachers are amazing, imperfect, profoundly important people — who need our prayers.

Whether you send your kids to public school or private school, or you choose to educate them at home in an organized schoolroom or messy living room, make a commitment to pray for your child’s teacher…even if that’s you! And if you don’t have kids, your prayers are still needed! Think back to the teacher who made an impact on your life, or perhaps the kind of teacher you needed but never had. Join me in praying for them:

Dear God,

Thank you for teachers. Thank you for the individuals who spend their lives nurturing and investing in the next generation. As teachers’ days begin again to be marked by bell schedules and lesson plans, would you mark their hearts with love, patience, and enthusiasm for their students?

Bless each teacher with the ability to see the good — the best — in each child. Enable them to encourage and equip every student to reach their full potential. Help teachers inspire a love for learning and instill confidence in each child in their capacity to grow.

Prepare each teacher for the challenges they will face. Lord, empower them to be emotional counselors, conflict diffusers, hope givers, and prayer warriors.

As teachers pour themselves out each day over essays and equations, ABCs and 123s, pour Yourself into them. Give them an abundance of hope, courage, wisdom, and joy. Gift them with parents and helpers, colleagues and administrators who champion their efforts and encourage their calling.

As teachers go back to school, Lord, grant them lavish grace for the tasks at hand. Beyond district benchmarks or state standards, help our teachers to work diligently and love their students well as unto You.

Bless this school year and bless each person who wears the beautiful and noble badge of Teacher.

Amen.

by Becky Keife, as published in 2022.

We’re whispering ‘welcome’ to fall, and all things autumn are sneaking into our days as a chill sneaks into the evening air. This coffee cake is perfect to make for a hardworking teacher! Add a thank you card or note to let them know you appreciate them, and share this delicious treat with a deserving teacher to tell them that they make a difference and you’re praying for them.

Scroll down for the recipe (courtesy of our friend Nancy) and download a FREE printable recipe card!

Crumb Coffee Cake

Download the FREE recipe card here!

Prep Time: 15 minutes
Bake Time: 25 minutes
Makes 10 servings.

INGREDIENTS:

  • 2 ½ cups baking mix
  • 1 ½ tsp. cinnamon
  • ¾ cup milk
  • 1/3 cup sour cream
  • 3 Tbsp. sugar
  • 1 large egg

CRUMB TOPPING:

  • 1/3 cup baking mix
  • 1/3 cup packed brown sugar
  • ½ tsp. cinnamon
  • 1/3 cup chopped pecans
  • 2 Tbsp. butter, melted

INSTRUCTIONS:

  1. Preheat oven to 350 ̊F. Grease or line a 9” round pan with parchment paper; set aside.
  2. In small bowl, combine the ingredients for the Crumb Topping: baking mix, brown sugar, cinnamon, and chopped pecans. Then pour in the melted butter and mix everything with a fork until crumbly; set aside.
  3. In medium-size bowl, add the baking mix, cinnamon, milk, sour cream, sugar, and egg, mixing well.
  4. Pour batter into prepared baking pan and sprinkle evenly with the Crumb Topping.
  5. Bake at 350 ̊F for 25 minutes, or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Let cool in pan completely.

OPTIONAL: To add a simple glaze on top, mix together ½ cup confectioners’ sugar and 1 to 1½ Tbsp. milk. Drizzle over the top of the cake after it has cooled and let set. Then slice and serve.

To enjoy a look similar to what Nancy created here, use the Constant Love Coffee Table Tray, the Grace & Gratitude Cream and Sugar Set, and Bless This Mess Paper Towel Holder. You’ll be ready for a lovely little brunch in no time! Find these brand new pieces and more in the full Mary & Martha collection — now available at DaySpring.com!

And we would love to know about a teacher who is important to you! Tell us in the comments about a teacher who impacted you!

 

Finding Jesus in the Cracked Skin on My Feet

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I wake up most nights at 3 am, my perimenopause alarm clock working on cue while the rest of my body seems to be going haywire. Sometimes I toss and turn while my mind rolls through all the things I’m anxious about – the dark and quiet of this time of night turn the volume up on my thoughts until they almost seem audible. I look over to see if they are loud enough to wake my husband.

Some nights, I wake and lie there and fall back asleep – a grace. On others, I lie there until I can’t anymore, and roll to the side of the bed to pray or make my way downstairs to journal out my prayers on the family room couch – hoping the release will wear me out so that I can go back to sleep sooner rather than later.

Despite the inevitable grogginess to come, I feel welcomed by the quiet and a fresh glass of water. I always feel like I don’t know where to begin, but once I start — Jesus — the worries come out in the form of words and sentences. I write so quickly that they blend together here and there – I’ll never have to worry about anyone reading my prayer journals because they are practically illegible.

Jesus, I need you. Jesus, I’m weary. Jesus, up again. Jesus, there’s so much weighing on me.

I write, then pause, drink water, and pick at the dry skin on my feet. I used to scold my mom, with the best intentions, and tell her to leave her feet alone; but now I think of her back then, and I get it. Pulling at a piece of rough skin – something that cries out to be smoothed – feels like an easy fix when so many things in my life are looming overhead, too big and too complicated to fix.

We often become fixated on the little things we think we can control when there are so many things that feel the opposite.

I think about Jesus with me and my picked-at feet. I remember how He washed the disciples’ feet and wonder what each of those feet felt like. I imagine Jesus getting up from the Passover table, belly full, surrounded by conversation, perhaps laughter or arguing. Wasn’t He worried about all that was to come and about how many things still felt undone? Did He think about how much His friends still didn’t understand or the depth of pain He was going to feel?

Maybe some of the disciples were trying to prove themselves to one another, or to Jesus. Maybe they wondered if they were spiritual enough, strong enough, smart enough. Maybe some of them struggled to understand why others were in the room. Maybe one of them was known to take too much of the food. Maybe Peter dominated the conversation. Did anyone notice Jesus removing His robe, picking up a towel, and putting it around His waist?

I try to imagine what Peter’s face must’ve looked like when he realized what Jesus was doing and considered his own feet as Jesus bent down before them. Did he stand up? Were his eyebrows raised? I wonder how Peter could miss the point as often as he does. I wonder how I can keep trying to pick away my anxiety and try to cover it up again as much as I do.

Peter protested Jesus washing his feet, and Jesus responded, “Unless I wash you, you won’t belong to me.”

I imagine Jesus sitting on the floor of my family room with our shaggy rug under His legs, in the middle of the night, while the rest of my family sleeps. Would I try to hide my feet under the couch cushions? Would He hold my feet gently, and wipe them clean?

“Unless I wash you, you won’t belong to me.”

Unless you stop trying to prove yourself as useful and right, with all things under control, you won’t wake to your need for Me.

Unless I spend time with your worries, the things you’d rather keep hidden from view — each dry patch, scab, and crack — you will not know Me and receive the depth of My love as much as you could.

Unless I wash you, and welcome you in as you are, you won’t be able to welcome anyone else into My love and mean it.

I wonder how many cracks Jesus found on the feet and in the faith of His disciples that night. Were there doubts of worthiness and their own belovedness? Did any of them try to help Him, instead of sitting still and waiting to receive? What dust and dirt, filth and germs, pain and power, questions and insecurity, did Jesus wash away into that basin? How many times did He have to refill it?

I imagine Jesus going to get our red Welly tin of bandages from the laundry room, picking one out to cover up my small wound, worries, doubts, disappointments, and shame. I picture Him trying to get a bandage out and working to get the sticky side to stick in the right places, and giving into the laughter that follows.

 

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

Hope Can Change the World Through Amazing People Like YOU!

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I blew my nose again, steadied myself on the back of the couch, and then shuffled to the door. I picked up a brown bag left on the front porch. Inside was cold Gatorade, sliced watermelon, some multigrain crackers, a hunk of Gruyère cheese, and a box of tissues. I was suffering from a fresh bout of Covid while my family was away enjoying our summer vacation. My body ached with a fever but this kindness from my next-door neighbor flooded my heart with encouragement.

Another day, I stepped out on that same front porch to check on my boys. They were across the street cleaning up tree branches my husband had trimmed. The sun was hot and they had taken their shirts off. My youngest stood inside a trashcan brimming with leaves, jumping to smash down the green waste as his older brother held his hands for balance. It wasn’t their favorite way to spend a Sunday afternoon, but what a blessing to our elderly neighbor and an encouragement to my mama heart.

Soon after, my body had recovered from sickness but my heart was heavy with discouragement. I knew fresh air and movement would help so I stepped outside for a neighborhood walk. As I searched Spotify trying to decide between music and podcast — but feeling too soul-weary to really enjoy either — my phone dinged with a text. I read the black words in the light gray bubble. It was just what I needed to hear. Soul support directly from God’s heart through a friend’s fingertips. Evidence that I am seen, thought of, loved. My heart once weighed down instantly buoyed with encouragement.

THIS is the power of encouragement. Simple gestures with big impact. Intentional care with eternal significance. 

Paul writes in Romans 15:13 (NLT), “I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.”

It’s just as James says, “Whatever is good and perfect is a gift coming down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens.”

God is the Source of all hope, the Giver of every good thing — but He invites us to be His messengers. 

Whether by practical support, a helping hand, or comforting words, we all have the ability to encourage others!

Today is National Day of Encouragement! It’s the perfect time to give thanks for the ways God has infused your heart with hope and look for ways you can love and encourage those around you.

Here are 10 simple ways to be a messenger of encouragement right where you are:

  1. Set an extra plate for dinner and invite a coworker or neighbor to join you.
  2. Pack up leftovers and take them to a busy mom or single friend.
  3. Leave an encouraging note on the fridge or bathroom mirror for a family member or roommate.
  4. Text a friend Romans 15:13 or another verse that’s encouraged your heart.
  5. Pause and pray for someone today — and tell them that you did.
  6. Do a chore for a neighbor: bring in the trashcans, sweep the porch, wash their car.
  7. Send a hand-written card to someone you haven’t connected with in a while.
  8. Give a sincere compliment to three people you see today.
  9. Take a treat or snack to someone you appreciate, such as a teacher, pastor, secretary, barista, nurse, or crossing guard.
  10. Ask God how you can bring hope and encouragement to someone who needs it, and do whatever He says!

Or, a bonus #11 – pick out a gift from DaySpring to encourage someone you love! To celebrate National Day of Encouragement and Thinking of You Week, DaySpring is giving away a free card & a fun surprise in every order today, September 12th, while supplies last! Also, you can enjoy 30% off these carefully selected Cards and Prayers to Share using the code CARD30.

Take a moment to think – who could use a smile, a word of encouragement, or a reminder of God’s love?

Let’s make a difference with hope this National Day of Encouragement. A single word of encouragement or simple gesture can light up someone’s day, give them strength, or remind them they are loved. Who comes to mind to encourage today?

 

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

A Shattered Heart and New Definition of Peace

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It happened more than twenty years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

The ring of our dorm phone jolted me from a deep sleep. My roommate reached over and picked up the beige receiver. “Hello?” Sarah said in a froggy voice. I rolled over on my top bunk in annoyance — my one morning without an early class!

After a brief minute, Sarah hung up the phone and said, “That was my mom. There’s been a terrorist attack.”

The words hadn’t even registered when Sarah turned on our tiny box TV. We watched as a second airplane crashed into the Twin Towers on the live broadcast. My mouth fell open but no words came out. I couldn’t comprehend what I was witnessing.

As the news slowly spread throughout the dorms (this was long before the days of smartphones and social media), so did a sense of panic. RAs came knocking on doors announcing that classes were canceled and the entire campus was shutting down out of an abundance of caution. We were on the opposite coast, but could another attack be coming? Would Los Angeles also be targeted?

The phone lines were jammed, so I pulled on a T-shirt and a crumpled pair of jeans and walked to the building next door to see my boyfriend. We congregated in the dim hallway with a couple of other friends from our college ministry group. After sharing our shock and fear, someone finally said, “We should pray.” So there on the dingy carpet, with fellow students coming and going, we sat and prayed. For those trapped in the burning skyscrapers. For the first responders and everyone who inhaled the ominous gray plume of ash and debris that swept through Manhattan’s streets. We asked the Spirit to groan for that which our group of nineteen- and twenty-year-olds had no words.

Eventually, our small gathering dispersed, leaving just me and my boyfriend. His eyes revealed a troubled soul. “Do you want to come back to my room so we can watch the news with Sarah and see what’s going on?” I asked.

“No, but I would like to go somewhere… just us. To talk.”

He grabbed my hand and we hiked up the long, paved hill toward the upper campus. The image of that plane piercing the building kept playing in my mind. I couldn’t swallow the lump in my throat.

At least we’re together, I thought, squeezing my guy’s hand. No matter what happens, we can face it side by side.

We finally stopped on the grassy knoll near the north traffic circle. A weeping willow bowed its branches away from a brick office, offering us a crescent cocoon of shade. He put his arm around me, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. We sat in comfortable silence, best friends not needing to fill the undeniable void of pain and confusion of this historic day.

Finally, my boyfriend shifted his body to turn toward me and inhaled a deep breath. I was eager to hear his sensitive and insightful thoughts on the attack. But instead, he told me we needed to break up.

Breath left my lungs like I’d been punched in the gut. Again, I felt disoriented, unable to grasp what was happening. He was the one. The one who stole my heart with his dimples and curly hair. The one who earned my trust with his unfailing honesty and integrity. We shared the same major and served together on our ministry leadership team. Every picture of the future I envisioned had a ring on my finger and his arm around my waist. I loved him. How could this be happening?

We talked and cried until there was nothing left to say. I couldn’t change his mind. I couldn’t fix it or turn back time. We walked slowly back to the dorms and said goodbye.

I spent the rest of that day and night in bed. My eyes ached from crying, and I felt a physical pain in my heart. All sense of safety and security had vanished. My future was a shattered mess of broken dreams. It felt like a brick pressed on my chest. It was hard to breathe.

One morning a few weeks later, I opened my Bible after another sleepless night. I didn’t even know what to read, so I opened to John because it was familiar. I skimmed a few passages, and then a word jumped out from the page like a 3D special effect. PEACE.

“Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Don’t let your heart be troubled or fearful.”
John 14:27 CSB

In the aftermath of 9/11 and in the wake of that devastating breakup, God was inviting me to change the way I defined peace, and change where I looked for it. Living in a prosperous first-world country is no guarantee of peace. Peace doesn’t come from titles like boyfriend and girlfriend. That heartbreaking September showed me that the peace the world gives is temporary, circumstantial, fallible.

But God offers a different kind of peace. Lasting. Unshakable. Perfect. When the whole world fractures or my own life shatters, the peace of Jesus is still available because the person of Jesus never changes.

Whether we’re in a time of crisis or just trudging through the struggles of ordinary life, we can entrust our troubled, fearful hearts to the one who is worthy of our trust.

Dear Jesus, thank You for offering a peace so different from what the world gives. Without You, my heart would be perpetually troubled. Fear would be a constant companion. I acknowledge that I can’t control my circumstances or strive for peace. I surrender my life and heart to You. Create in me a heart of peace. Amen.

This story by Becky Keife is an excerpt from the Create in Me a Heart of Peace Bible Study.

On this 23rd anniversary of the September 11th attacks, we’re reminded of how desperately we need the peace of Jesus and how faithful He is to provide it. We’d love to hold space for your memories and reflections. Comment below, and let’s pray for God’s peace to permeate our hearts, homes, and nation.

 

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

In Praise of Your Framily

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When our daughter, Faith, was eight years old, we learned she had a broken vertebra. At the time, one of the best pediatric neurosurgeons in the country lived in our town of Colorado Springs, so Faith’s surgery to correct the malformation happened on our home turf. My husband, David, and I soldiered through the emotional day of her surgery relying on God, the prayers of loved ones, and each other. When we received word that the surgery was a success, we all but collapsed in exhaustion and relief.   

The following day, our friends, Ryan and Rebecca, asked if they could bring their own two children to visit Faith in the pediatric intensive care unit. We replied, yes! rather enthusiastically. With no extended family in town, we were thrilled at the prospect of visiting with supportive friends. 

While we waited for them to arrive, Faith watched a Barbie princess movie—her choice distraction from the pain and limited mobility. As I filled her water cup, my cell phone rang. Seeing it was Rebecca, I answered. She proceeded to explain that she and her family were in the PICU waiting room, but the nurse on duty wouldn’t let them through. 

“Hold on, I’m gonna talk to somebody. I’ll be in touch.” I said before hanging up the phone. 

Chock-full of exhaustion and clean empty of civility and patience, I marched up to the nurse’s station and said exasperatedly to the nurse behind the counter, “Excuse me, I’m Kristen, mom to your patient in room 204. Can you please explain to me why our friends can’t visit my daughter?” 

The nurse sighed with her own exasperation. 

“Only family of patients are allowed into the PICU, ma’am,” she answered without looking up. 

I leaned in, ever so slightly. “Ma’am, with all due respect, that’s not a helpful rule.”  

She then looked up.  

Continuing, I said, “We have no extended family in town, and these friends are our local family. They’re all healthy, fit as a fiddle. Our daughter would be mighty happy to see them, and a happier patient makes for a better recovery, right?”  

On the outside, I smiled just a tad. On the inside, I prayed that God would move her to consider reason over rules. After a moment of silence, the nurse acquiesced and let our friends through.  

As they walked into the room, Faith smiled as big as Texas. She thoroughly enjoyed the conversation and get-well gifts they brought. By the time our friends left, Faith showed more spunk and spirit than she had in days. What’s more, all five of us Strongs felt buoyed by the bit of normalcy brought in from outside the hospital walls.  

These friends are just one example of what I like to call my “framily.”

Framily is a term for friends who fill in the gaps left by an absence of family, especially when you don’t live in the same area as your relation or when they choose not to be actively involved in your life. In no way do these friends replace your family! My extended family is very important to me. But for most of my adult life, I’ve not lived near them.   

When that is your reality, you understand that you still need help when life gets tricky. For example, when surgery knocks you out of commission, you need someone to bring you dinner. When you’re sick as a dog, you need someone to watch the kids. When you go on vacation, you need someone to water your plants or feed the cat or bring in the mail. Framily helps you (and you help them!) with middle-of-the-night emergencies and broad-daylight necessities.  

More than that, they’re soul-sisters who help you persevere in the faith. 

Framily is a great idea because it is God’s idea! Proverbs 18:24 tells us about a friend who sticks closer than a brother. Proverbs 27:10 says when hard times come, it’s better to not travel far for help, but to get help where you are. 

When life throws a lot at you, framily is your in-person help — like our friends were for us.

To honor the framily in your life, I’ve written a small but mighty gift book, called Friends Are Family We Choose. 

It would be the perfect gift to honor your own framily on occasions such as:
National Friendship Day (August)
Birthdays
Friendsgiving
Christmas
Galentine’s Day (February 13th)
Pastor Appreciation Month (October)
Military Spouse Appreciation Month (May) 

Specifically, it would be the perfect gift to honor the:
Hostess
Adopted Aunt or Grandma
Pastor’s Wife
Military Wife
Bible Study Leader
Small Group Leader
Neighbor
…or Bestie in your life. 

If you don’t have the words to tell that friend you love like family what she means to you, I’ve come up with the words for you through this book! It’s a poignant-with-a-side-of-humor hardback that’s also beautifully designed, and it’s for any gal you want to thank for being the friend you love like family. 

This world is a divisive one, and plenty of words get thrown around that tear others down.  

Here’s to using our words to build up and bless. 

Here’s to friends who model the love of Jesus in our lives. 

And here’s to buoying the spirit of the framily you couldn’t live without. 

—

If you want to tell your friend what she means to you but don’t quite have the words, Kristen Strong is here to help. She is an (in)courage writer and an author whose books include Girl Meets Change and Friends Are Family We Choose, and she writes as the friend helping you get in your friendship groove. Her gift book, Friends Are Family We Choose, is a small but mighty book that’s just the thing to bless the bestie or good friend in your life that you love like a member of your own family.

Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN a copy*!

Then join Becky Keife this weekend on the (in)courage podcast for a conversation with Kristen about this sweet new book. Don’t miss it!

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes on 9/15/24 at 11:59 pm central.

Listen to Kristen’s devotion below or on your fav podcast app!

They Were Living My Dream

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Earlier this week, my husband, Darian, and I were on a charming, little walk around our neighborhood. It was hot outside so instead of fully holding hands, we were only holding pinkies. So cute.

I began to tell him about a friend of ours who was posting vacation pictures on her social media — living out the vacation of our dreams. I was in the middle of describing to him how she and her husband were following our dream itinerary, eating our dream food, and doing everything that was on our bucket list. But before I could really go into any great detail, he nonchalantly said to me, “Did you rejoice with those who rejoice?”

I had to stop and ask myself sincerely if I was rejoicing with them. If I wasn’t before, I was after he asked! I did not want to let jealousy or envy creep in. It’s not worth it.

After I did a quick heart check I started to think about that full verse. Romans 12:15 (NIV) says, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” Mourning with those who mourn seems to come easier than rejoicing with those who rejoice.

If someone loses a job, goes through a breakup, discovers a disease, or experiences a loss, we tend to feel bad for them. We empathize with their situation and even rally to provide whatever support they need. Yet, if our coworker gets the promotion we wanted we pout, complain, and talk about them behind their back.

Rejoicing with those who rejoice is uncommon. It’s not a natural thing most people do.

Years ago a friend of mine went through a hard divorce. She was struggling with her finances, was in and out of different relationships, and was having a difficult time with her teenage children. It was a challenging season of life for her. During one of our conversations, she angrily mentioned to me that her ex-husband was thriving in life. The hurt in her heart was stealing her ability to rejoice. How many times do we allow offense and bitterness to rob us of rejoicing with others?

Allowing our hearts to be poisoned with unforgiveness, entitlement, or pride is a dangerous place to live. Yet, we see it every day. We see siblings mad at siblings because they were favored by a parent. Best friends stop speaking because someone’s feelings are hurt. Marriages break up because one person thinks they deserve something the other person can’t or won’t give. But how might some of those relational wounds be healed if we adopted a posture of rejoicing?

Do you ever wonder why the Lord places certain verses in the Bible? Do you ever think, What’s in it for me?

Sassily I want to say it doesn’t matter what benefit there is. If the Lord, our Father, Master, and Savior told us to do something, then we should just do it. But because the Lord is so good there is always a benefit. Psalm 24:3-4a (NIRV) says, “Who can go up to the temple on the mountain of the Lord? Who can stand in his holy place? Anyone who has clean hands and a pure heart.” Everything we do reflects the condition of our hearts.

When we rejoice with those who rejoice, it shows clean hands and a pure heart. It takes humility, love that’s unconditional, and self-control to celebrate with others. Especially with those who receive the prayer you’ve been praying to receive yourself. It’s never quite as hard if someone gets what we didn’t want. However, when they get the thing of our dreams, our true heart colors show. But if we can just keep our hands clean and our hearts pure, what we get is so much better. We get to go into the temple of the Lord.

It’s when we forgive, aren’t easily offended, and genuinely celebrate the wins of those around us that we can boldly and freely run to the Lord. There is nothing that compares to the presence of God.

I’m so thankful Darian asked me that question on our walk that day. I needed the reminder that everything isn’t always about me. Other people have dreams, prayers, and desires too. True love wants good things for others.

My day is coming. Your day is coming too. We may or may not get our dream vacation or promotion, but we will get the greatest gift of being fully loved and known by our Almighty God.

In the meantime, I’m going to do the uncommon thing. I’m going to keep my hands clean and my heart pure. I’m going to rejoice with those who rejoice. I’m going to ascend the hill of the Lord.

 

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

The Joy Available to You Today

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Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”
Luke 18:16–17

Every time I’m in a worship service and the song leader suggests we raise our hands in praise, I cringe. I get a little sweaty and my mind starts racing.

What is wrong with you?
Why can’t you raise your hands?
I know. I should raise my hands. I want to. I do. But . . .
What if I look weird? What if they notice?
It’s just not like me. I’m not a raise-your-hands kind of girl.
You mean you’re not a praise-the-Lord kind of girl?
Just. Raise. Your. Hands.
Ahhh! It’s not a big deal, but it feels like a big deal!
Isn’t it enough to tap my foot?
Is this song ever going to— oh good, it’s over now.

Growing up in a small-town, traditional hymn-singing church, it never even occurred to me to raise my hands during worship until I witnessed my friends doing just that in college. In fact, closing my eyes while belting out my favorite songs was as expressive as I got back then— and even that felt out of place.

One Sunday, though, my internal debate was interrupted by my five-year-old standing next to me. As soon as she saw me notice her raised hands, she wanted to talk about it. “Mommy, why aren’t you holding your hands up? Look! I’m holding up my hands for Jesus! You do it too, Mommy!”

So for once, I did the thing that my heart often longs to do but that feels so awkward and even scary: I raised my hands.

The specific way we worship isn’t the point. The point is that for years I’ve ignored the urge to let go and worship the way that expresses my true feelings. I’ve remained content to worship half-heartedly because what others might think was more important to me than what God has placed in my heart and what I long to say to him.

For my daughter, though, it was so much simpler than that. She heard the worship leader suggest we raise our hands, she felt joy as she sang about Jesus, and she raised her hands up high to express all those things.

Just like that.

Oh, to be courageously joyful like a child!

People worship God in so many different ways. Expressing our love and gratitude and joy in the Lord shouldn’t be about how we look or following a set of rules. And yet sometimes we can feel intimidated or embarrassed when it comes to worship.

But do you know who never seems to feel self-conscious or reluctant to share their true feelings? Children.

When children sing songs to and about the God they’ve been taught loves them, their unblemished, unabashed joy cannot be contained. Without filters or fear, they jump and sing and dance their praise to the Lord, never afraid of what the kid jumping and singing and dancing next to them might think. Why can’t we do the same?

Jesus knew we could learn much from observing little children. in Luke 18:16–17, He urged His followers to be more like children.

Raising your hands, dancing, or singing at the top of your lungs is not necessarily more holy or joyful than other styles of worship. Perhaps you feel more connected to God when folding your hands, kneeling, or even spending time in nature. Worshiping God with courageous joy simply means responding to God in the way He created you to be in relationship with Him, rather than allowing your expressions of joy to be affected by fear, uncertainty, or perceived expectations.

Think of a child you know or perhaps imagine your younger self. Can you picture her dancing and twirling through the temple courts as described in Psalm 100, singing with delight— smile wide and eyes bright— at the sheer anticipation of being in God’s presence? Watch in your mind’s eye as the Father wraps His child in a huge embrace.

That is the wonder of God’s love.

That is the joy available to us today because we know our hope and salvation are secure in Jesus (John 10:28).

God, I love You so much! I do. When I think about how much You love me — enough to come to earth, live a sinless life, and die for my sins so we would no longer be separated — I want to shout it from the rooftops! I can’t contain my joy — or at least I don’t want to. But sometimes I don’t know what to say, or I’m afraid of looking foolish in front of others. Will You give me the courage to share my joy with abandon — before You and before others? Thank You, God. Amen.

Devotion by Mary Carver from Courageous Joy: Delight in God through Every Season

What if you could live with courage and joy in every season and circumstance? What if that courageous joy changed not only your outlook but your relationships — with God and others? It’s all possible! Take the journey with our Courageous Joy Bible study. 

Right now, Courageous Joy and all the Courageous Bible Studies are on sale for ONLY $10 at DaySpring.com!

Grab two copies of Courageous Joy so you and a friend can experience it together, or choose all four at this super low price to study God’s Word all year!

Get your $10 (in)courage Bible Studies are here!

 

Struggling with Self-Injury or the Lie That No One Cares? Here’s Your Reminder That God Is Present in Your Pain

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Trigger Warning: This is a personal story that contains self-harm content.

I left the steaming shower running and stepped out, wrapping myself in a waiting towel.

My long, wet hair dripped down my back and left water droplets on the floor where I stood. With the pounding water drowning out all noise, I sank to the floor, curled up on the bathmat, and let myself sob.

Why was I stuck with a brain that told me hurting myself was a good idea?
Why was it so hard not to listen?

For over a decade, I’d struggled with self-injury. What started as an impulsive, one-time choice at fifteen had spiraled into years of desperate decisions. I waded through high school and college and early adulthood trying to work my way into healing. I did everything I was supposed to do: I prayed, read my Bible, surrounded myself with community, and tried alternative coping mechanisms. None of it had worked, not for long anyway. No matter what I did, no matter how much time passed between incidents, the urge to hurt myself never went away.

On good days, the battle with my brain was background noise. On bad days, it left me exhausted and begging God to make it stop. Having found faith at an early age, I’d spent my whole life believing God loves each of us beyond measure and hears our prayers. But, after years of pleading prayers going unanswered, I often wondered if He heard me. That night, from the floor of my bathroom, I threw a singular half-question, half-accusation at the ceiling: God, do you even care?

I know I’m not the only one who has wondered if they are unseen and unnoticed by the God of the universe. Even when Jesus walked among His disciples, they doubted His care for them on occasion.

In Mark 4, after a day of ministry, Jesus and His disciples board a boat together. A tired Jesus is lulled to sleep by the boat’s gentle rocking as it makes its way to the opposite shore. In the middle of the crossing, a storm builds and the wind tosses crashing waves into the boat. Panicked, the disciples begin trying to save the boat and themselves. Realizing their efforts are futile, they wake Jesus and beg Him to save them, asking, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

Put plainly, the men who knew Jesus better than anyone looked at their sinking boat and asked, “Don’t you care about us?”

How often do we find ourselves in the middle of storms and asking this same question? Maybe we’re praying for healing or guidance or just some room to breathe between each wave that fills our lungs with water, but at the heart of each of those prayers is one deeper question: God, do you even care that I’m about to drown?

Laying on the floor of my bathroom that night, there was no lightning bolt moment of clarity or instantaneous healing. There was no booming voice from the heavens. The urge for self-injury that I’d dealt with most of my life didn’t suddenly disappear. But, as my tears slowed and my breath steadied, I sensed God with me.

While God is capable of calming any storm, He doesn’t promise us that He will. What He does tell us about Himself in Exodus 3:14 is “I am who I am.” God is only able to be who He has always been, which means that even today . . . He is faithful and loving and present.

I think about the relationships I have in my life, the people who I believe really care about me on a personal level — the people who show up, regardless of circumstances or mood. They make a conscious choice to be in my life, outside of obligation or requirement. If I trust that those people, incapable of unconditional love, care about me, why shouldn’t I trust that a God who promises His presence cares about me, too?

There are days that I still beg God to take away the urge to self-harm that flits through my brain all too often. In those moments, when I’m tempted to believe the lie that I’ve been abandoned and that God doesn’t care about me, I’m reminded that the same God who met Moses in the burning bush, the same God who was with Daniel in the lion’s den, the same God who sent His son to earth to walk among us, and the same God who cried with Lazarus’ sister is the same God who is with me on the nights I end up on the bathroom floor.

Whether I find healing on this side of eternity or not, I have peace in knowing that every time I ask God, “Do you even care?” His answer is a patient and resolute, “Yes.”

 

~

At (in)courage, we believe in making space for all stories and experiences. With heartache, we recognize the reality of self-harm. With hope, we share this story — proclaiming the help and healing that can be found in community and Christ. We are here for you, in prayer and in the comments below, should you wish to respond to this guest article. If you are in a crisis and considering self-harm, dial 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline which provides 24/7, free, and confidential help for self-harm. You are not alone. There is help.

How to Be the Soup Friend

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When it comes to a crisis, the seven most useless words in the English language are “Let me know if I can help.” Because the last thing a person needs when they are in the middle of a crisis is one more decision to make. 

Recently, when my husband and I were going through a challenging season physically, we had a number of people tell us, “Let me know if I can help.” And while I love the heart behind those words, the last thing I could do was strategize the “what, when, and how” of support. It was easier to just say, “No, thank you. We’re fine.”  

But then, I have other friends who have taken the art of supporting a loved one to a new level.  

I have a great friend, Mary, who is the gift card friend. Usually, it’s a DoorDash card, but sometimes she brings one for a local grocery store if there is going to be an ongoing need. 

I have one friend, Cheri, who is the drive-by bagel friend. When there is a crisis, she has been known to show up at my house with my Starbucks order (venti skinny vanilla latte) and a dozen assorted bagels with two different flavors of cream cheese. So easy to grab and go when you need something to eat but don’t want to think. 

Another friend, Amberly, is the gathering friend. When we first received the diagnosis of our dog Moose’s lymphoma, she gathered a bunch of my friends and created a box with things that Roger, Moose, and I would love. There was cheese and chocolates for the humans, and dog treats and a lamb stuffy for Moose. It was a box of joy, and it was perfect.  

My friend Susy and I are the “Soup Friends.” When someone is in need, the only question we ask is, “Would tomorrow at 3:00 be a good time for me to drop off dinner?”  Then we show up with soup and the fixings. 

Even though I may not be the one in crisis, having soup already decided makes helping so much easier. I have those ingredients on hand, it’s delicious, and I don’t have to make decisions on my end. My friend in need doesn’t need to make decisions on her end. (And yes, I have a backup, vegetable soup, for friends who may be dairy-free or vegetarian.)  

Once I’ve made the decision to bring a friend soup, the rest is simple. 

  • The soup recipe: I have all the ingredients in the pantry or freezer. 
  • The container: I have a few plastic bowls from the dollar store that I don’t need to get back. 
  • The dessert: I can usually bake a pan of brownies (in a foil pan) while the soup is cooking on the stove. If not, I will pick up brownies at the store. 
  • The sides: I stop at the store on the way and pick up a loaf of French bread and a bagged salad that already has the dressing. 
  • The carrier: If I know the recipient will be home, the whole meal can be packed into a grocery bag. If they might not be home, I pick up a “hot and cold” bag at the store and put a Ziploc bag of ice inside.  

The key is, that I’m not dropping off anything that needs to be returned. Again, my goal is to eliminate as many decisions and extra tasks for my friend as possible.  

When a friend is in the fight of her life, the verse that stands out is Galatians 6:2 (NIV): 

 “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”  

Because the burden for our friends is not just the crisis, but also the inevitable daily tasks, such as feeding themselves and those around them. Showing up with that extra large bowl of soup eliminates a lot of burdens. 

How do we get better at this? What can we do to avoid saying the dreaded “let me know if I can help”?  

Create a crisis response plan before the crisis happens. Figure out what kind of friend you will be. The gift card friend? The bagel friend? The soup friend? Then prepare accordingly.   

  • Squirrel away gift cards when you have extra cash. 
  • Stock up on the ingredients a little at a time. 
  • Find out about any allergies or food preferences of the people you’ll be caring for.  
  • Buy disposable plates, bowls, bags, and other packaging materials.  

Oh, and if you need a soup recipe that is a winner, here is my go-to recipe.

Cream of Chicken and Wild Rice Soup
Prep Time: 10 minutes
Cook Time: 60 minutes
Yield: 4 bowls or 8 cups 

Ingredients 

6 T. unsalted butter
3 celery ribs, chopped
2 carrots, chopped
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1½ tsp. finely chopped fresh thyme
½ tsp. fresh rosemary, chopped
Salt and pepper, to taste
¼ cup all-purpose flour
1 cup wild rice (5 ounces)
2 quarts chicken stock
2 cups water
4 cups chopped, cooked chicken
1 cup heavy cream 

Directions 

  1. In a large saucepan, melt the butter. Add the celery, carrots, onion, garlic, thyme, rosemary, salt, and pepper (I start out with ¼ teaspoon each of salt and pepper and then adjust while simmering), and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables just start to soften, about 10 to 12 minutes. Sprinkle the flour over the vegetables and cook, stirring, until evenly coated and lightly browned, about 3 to 5 minutes. 
  2. Add the wild rice to the saucepan and gradually stir in the stock and water. Bring to a boil, then simmer over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are tender, about 30 minutes. 
  3. Add the chicken and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the wild rice is tender, about 10 to 15 minutes. 
  4. Stir in the cream and season with more salt and pepper, if desired. 

Carrying each other’s burdens doesn’t have to be complicated, but it does need to be practical. When a crisis hits, bring a latte, fold the laundry, take kids to school, or start a prayer chain. Be the soup friend—or whatever kind of friend God calls you to be!  

Ready to become the Soup Friend and master the art of crisis support? Pre-order Kathi’s book, Sabbath Soup today and receive an exclusive bonus: “Soup’s On! Four Weekly Meal Plans to Help You Enjoy a True Day of Rest.” 

 

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

When It’s Hard to Be on the Internet

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Right now is a strange time to be online. 

Not on the beautiful site where you might be reading these words, a place full of encouragement. Or in your inbox, which hopefully brings a curated collection of goodness (amidst the ads and spam and to-dos).  

I’m talking about in the comments. The wilderness of the world wide web. 

Last week a stranger screenshot a story I shared on Instagram. Pulled it out of context. Posted it to her followers. Pointed them in my direction.  

Next thing I knew, my DMs exploded with angry strangers. Calling me names. Questioning my beliefs. Cursing and condemning me.  

Then they started tagging me in other posts, horrible diatribes that had nothing to do with what I had shared. My head was spinning: what was happening? I watched in real time as the anger and intensity of our present moment erupted before my eyes, spewing heat and burning ash. 

As an author who’s been writing online for years, I’m well versed in the ways people often respond (or rather, react) on social media. But the experience of being wildly misunderstood and attacked by strangers in a targeted campaign — this was bizarre and brand-new. 

I tried to remember how Jesus handled conflict. He asked questions. He stood firm. He spoke truth. He stayed calm. He went off by Himself to pray.  

As an introvert who loves silence and stillness, I started with the last one. Took a few days offline. Talked with my spouse and friends. Tried to pray for wisdom and clarity.  

After I let my anxiety run its course, I came back online. Deleted the cruel comments. Prayed over the DMs. Blocked one person who couldn’t engage with decency. 

I kept going because I have seen how the good of social media can far outweigh the bad. We can learn from each other, grow in faith, build relationships across differences, and support each other through challenges. Even Christian community can thrive online: I have seen it with my own eyes.  

But long ago I decided that fighting with strangers on the Internet was not part of my calling. As someone who writes publicly, I have to protect my wellbeing while sharing my life through words. If I want to be right or be liked more than I strive to bring the love of Christ, then I will stumble every time. 

Here’s the hard truth that I had to relearn: 

We need to love our neighbor and our enemy everywhere.  

Jesus never gave us an “Internet out” to let us be snarky or cruel or cutting in the comments, even (and especially) when we feel like righteous warriors. We have to figure out how to treat each person as a beloved child of God, whether or not we can look them in the face — the very face that God knows and adores. 

I hate to tell you that there is no crystal-clear, comprehensive Handbook For Being A Person Of Faith Online. But we do have the wisdom and truth of Scripture to guide us. In particular, Paul’s words strike me squarely between the eyes when I read them in our Internet era:  

“Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.  

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all…Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”
Romans 12:9-18, 21 NRSV 

Paul’s words remind us that we are called to be the same online as we are in person. 

Genuine. Good. Hopeful. Ardent. Patient. Peaceful. Compassionate.  

We will meet challenges and conflicts. But we can still be people of conviction and compassion. We can speak for truth and love.  

We know we can do this, because Jesus did.  

When I get lost online and have to find my bearings again, I try to remember what has helped in the past.  

  1. Pray before you post. 
  2. Take a deep breath to ground yourself in the Holy Spirit. 
  3. Forgive others and ask for forgiveness. 
  4. Look to wise leaders. 
  5. Keep Jesus’s welcome and wisdom before your eyes.

We can never know what is going on behind someone’s screen. Behind Internet bravado or cyberbullying stands a broken, hurting human — every single time. And while we never have to accept abuse or injustice, we can learn to become wiser in the ways we live and move and have our being online. We can follow Paul’s instructions and encouragement, to live a Christian life no matter where we are. 

Above all, we can keep the courage of Christ always before us.  

(Even when we check the comments.) 

 

Listen to Laura’s devotion below or on your fav podcast app!

In All Things, God Is Good

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On the second Sunday afternoon in August, life as I know it paused for the foreseeable future. I had a full week’s worth of plans: attending an open house in the north Georgia mountains, dinner with girlfriends in my neighborhood, Friday night jazz at the High Museum with family (which had been on my calendar for six months), and lunch with my writing critique group followed by my monthly Atlanta Writers Club meeting. Everything kicked off that evening with my daughter-in-law’s birthday dinner. 

But before I got to any of that, a pick-up truck almost ran me down in the Costco parking lot. (Surely the driver didn’t see me or he would have stopped, right?)  

I tripped on the curb getting out of his way. I caught my fall, and my arm fractured in a spiral that runs from just above my elbow almost into my shoulder, like a piece of bamboo grabbed at each end and twisted in opposite directions. When I raised my head from the sidewalk and looked down at my arm, I only needed a glance to know it was broken.  

In the emergency room, they said I needed surgery within two days. But the orthopedic surgeon wants to try a compression brace first — which squeezes my arm like a vice — in hopes that the bone will grow back together. He didn’t sugarcoat the prognosis: if this works it will be a very slow and very painful process, but I would avoid a long scar, the risk of infection, potential paralysis of my hand, and permanent metal plates in my arm.  

I’m willing to try. 

My world flipped that Sunday, no longer sunny side up like my name. Everything inverted.  

Instead of feeling strong and capable, I rely on being still and clever: picking up things from the floor or moving items from the washer to the dryer with my toes (leaning forward is painful); wedging a long, skinny teaspoon into the compression brace around my arm to scratch an itch or extending it to adjust the tilt of my desk fan; pinning bottles and tubs of yogurt between my body, the kitchen counter, and the corner of the dishwasher to open lids. 

Instead of tallying my daily word count or how many chapters I’ve edited in the second draft of my first novel, I’m counting the number of calcium pills I’ve taken and how many minutes I’ve spent in the sun (doctor’s orders for vitamin D, which will help me absorb calcium and make my bones stronger). 

My perception of the world and the people around me has adjusted also. The news networks and social media want me to believe we are a very divided people, and maybe we are, politically. But since the accident, although I’ve felt as helpless and vulnerable as a baby bird, I’ve witnessed the goodness, decency, and compassion of strangers:  

The first man on the scene, who sent his family inside and stayed with me in the parking lot, helping handle interactions with the store and the firemen called to the scene. The ER nurse who treated me like his dear friend instead of just another patient. Staff at the orthopedic surgeon’s office, who saw me anyway when I arrived on the wrong day for a follow-up appointment and showed me ways to combat swelling, and loosened my compression brace enough to wiggle something inside and scratch an itch that had driven me crazy for days (leading to my own idea with the spoon).  

“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”
Galatians 6:2 KJV  

 My world shrank. The big picture feels like a vague outline drawn with a shaky hand, like my left-handed signature when I checked myself into the emergency room.  

So I’m focusing on small things and searching for things to be grateful for each day: Neighbors who check on me and explain to my children that our roles have reversed, and they are the caregivers now. A husband who helps me navigate feeding, dressing, and cleaning myself while he regains stamina after an accident that left him on crutches for ten weeks. An empathetic dog who rushes to my side when I cry, sleeps between my knees, and apparently boosts my serotonin levels, which helps with bone health and healing. A friend who worked a full day then sat with me for three hours, like there was nowhere else she’d rather be. 

I appreciate favorite songs I haven’t heard in years, a fully-charged Kindle, neck rubs, a son who’s watching season one of 24 with me (first time for him, first time in years for me), a daughter who washed my hair and face and helped me feel human again, and another who wants to take me to Waffle House (the only place besides the doctor’s office I’m willing to show my face right now).  

Knowing I’ll never repeat the day of the accident is a comfort, but maybe someday it will help me write about trauma, pain, and what being in shock feels like. 

All of us are in different circumstances, but chances are you’re dealing with your own challenges now. I hope my story encourages you to support the people around you, whether friends, family, or strangers, to see the Lord’s provision in the bleakest circumstances, and when you find yourself overwhelmed by big worries, focus on simple daily blessings instead.  

In all things, God is good. 

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

A Part of the Plan

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“Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.”
Psalm 116:7 NIV

When her heart got busy, the tug became real. It was an invitation she felt deep inside to convalesce. Not that she was overly broken. But she was beginning to recognize, as she got older, that life tended to wear her down but that God would build her up again. Over and over, she would return to the cocoon of His love and find herself restored, renewed, and stronger than before.

Nothing will come of the past now — what’s done is done. There are no promises for the future yet. But today … oh, today. The richness of this moment when you get to breathe air, feel the sun, watch kids play, feel sorrow and strong hugs, make plans, and see how God’s plans have unfolded.

Somewhere along the way we’ve learned that the hustle is everything. If we’re not working toward tomorrow, then are we really accomplishing anything of value? But when we live that way, we’re forgetting that God is at work. We also forget that rest is a part of the plan.

For some reason, it’s become an act of courage to choose rest over other things, but for God, He asks it of us. Slow down, He says. Look around you. Remember where you’ve been and take a look at where you are. Daydream about tomorrow.

When was the last time you truly rested? When did you sit on the back porch and sip a cup of tea? When did you lie in bed for thirty minutes before turning to your phone? When did you choose to trust God that resting is a part of your wiring? Make time today to rest. You’ll find Him waiting there for you.

God,
Thank You for the gift of being able to rest. There’s beauty in being able to reflect on the goodness of what You are doing in my life. May I slow down long enough to draw near to You always. I want my heart to be filled with thanksgiving and gratitude without my thoughts always rushing to the next thing. In Jesus’s name, Amen.

Unrushed Living: Embracing Simplicity and Savoring Life’s Moments, by Sopha Rush, is a brand new 90-day devotional about the power of slowing down and relishing the beauty of life.

We’re moving faster and faster so that we’ll finally get there — wherever “there” is. But what if “there” was actually right here? Author Sopha Rush invites you to examine why you’re in a hurry, burnt out, and under pressure to achieve or succeed. She offers an alternative to the hamster wheel: placing our faith in God — daily — and savoring the goodness of life right where we are.

Through this 90-day devotional, you’ll find value and greater satisfaction in the spaces they once tried to fill and the moments you once tried to hurry along.

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Listen to today’s devotion below or on your favorite podcast player!