Cambodian Limes and the Love of God

Cambodian Limes and the Love of God

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I’ve always liked citrusy flavors. Growing up, Sprite was a huge treat on the rare occasion my family ate out. If we travelled to another city, one of my family’s few traditions was to try and find a Korean restaurant wherever we went. If we found one — back in what my kids would likely refer to as “the ancient era” — it felt like a real feat. There was no pocket internet back then. We’d go by the Yellow Pages and asking locals. It was a hunt that promised the most beautiful reward: Kalbi cooking over charcoal, kimchi and other banchan, silver bowls of steaming, hot rice, and a can of Sprite.

That lemon-lime flavor alongside the flavors of home and my upbringing were perfection to me.

But it wasn’t until I was in my forties, and halfway across the world in Battambang, Cambodia, that I experienced the full flavor of a lime for the first time.

Cambodia is nestled between Vietnam, Laos, and Thailand, just north of the equator. It’s hot in Cambodia, and even though I was there in January, dry season, the highs were close to eighty degrees most days. Being close to the equator means many tropical things grow well there.

My first dinner in Battambang was at Green Mango Café, which is part of The Culinary Training Center for Global Impact: a program that teaches kitchen and restaurant management skills to at-risk girls. When my lime juice arrived, I took one sip and my eyes opened wide like Stanley Tucci hosting his Nat Geo food show in Italy. I realized I had never truly tasted the full flavor of a lime, or that one green lime could have as much flavor as it did.

I was reminded of C.S. Lewis and his writing on our desires in his book, The Weight of Glory: “It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

Now, it should be noted that it wasn’t my fault that I hadn’t tasted the real potential and seemingly “infinite joy” of a lime prior to being in Cambodia. But it is something to think about the actual goodness of our desires and longings and how they can point to the fullness we were intended to find, experience, and enjoy in God’s creation.

That week, it wasn’t just the limes. In Cambodia, I experienced the generosity and beauty of God through the Cambodian people in a new way. While sitting with new friends and bearing witness to their stories, I saw the face and felt the heart of God in a way I hadn’t before. Cambodia, and all the beloved Cambodians who live there, tell a story about God that only they can tell. What if we are far too easily pleased, as Lewis suggests with experiences and tastes, but also with a small view of community, kinship, and one another?

In these days of polarization and dehumanization, it’s become too easy to reduce one another to a Sprite can. We minimize or overlook the true beauty, value, and flavor — the imago Dei in every person.

It’s become too easy to take the imitation of taste for the real thing. Whether it’s in how we stereotype one another, villainize each other, label or define or rank others, we’ve forgotten the fullness of love and the reality of God’s image and uniqueness placed in each of us – every country and culture across the world included.

I’m reminded of Jesus, and how He constantly offered His friends and followers a fuller view of humanity.

Sometimes He did this by reminding them to look inward and see what was really in their own hearts. Other times He did this by including and inviting more into His circles than those who were there would’ve wanted. Jesus did this by traveling into cities and places and people groups that most from His own ethnic group wouldn’t have gone near. He did this so much that the good news of His love has carried beyond His world into mine – through generations, culture, and geographic expanse that His friends and followers couldn’t have fathomed no matter how they tried.

Tasting limes and being with people in Cambodia was a love note from God. Not only did it remind me that I am fully loved, but that God loves Cambodia and the people of every nation with love, fullness, and a connectedness that is beyond my understanding.

It’s God’s love that sent Jesus into the world, from one culture to another, to embrace every single person He encountered. May that same love lead us to embrace and see the worth in one another above all other loves and loyalties. May it be His love that reminds us that everyone, everywhere, from every story, is made full of goodness, value, meaning, and love —  as full of flavor as a Cambodian lime.

Listen to Tasha’s devotion here or on your favorite podcast app!

What to Say When Fear Interrupts Your Day

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I take my seat at a coffee shop table on a lovely morning. Outside, the birds are declaring love and war. The murmur of conversations and the scent of espresso surround me.

I am here to work. Yet the project in front of me feels so much bigger than I am. Fear whispers, You don’t have what it takes to do this.

I coach writers, and I find a common myth they believe is that at some point, the fear goes away. At some point, it fades like a morning fog. There’s a collective belief that one day you will wake up with a courage that persists. But life doesn’t work like this.

If you dare to offer anything to the world — love, art, your heart — then you will be afraid when you do it. Why? Because it matters to you.

We don’t feel fear when we don’t care; we feel apathy, boredom, disengagement. But the dreams we cherish, the relationships we treasure, the risks we want to take, the difference we want to make — these come with fear.

I’ve said before that God does not prohibit fear; He knows we will experience it. Look at Scripture and you will see He says “do not fear” to those already experiencing it. This is not a rigid command; it is a compassionate reassurance. His gentle invitation is to not stay in fear, not dwell in the paper-thin tents of our anxiety, not sit in the darkness of our “what ifs.”

I’ve learned that fear starts to flee in the wide-open light of honesty. So I write in my journal, “Jesus, I don’t have it in me to do this.” I pause, hesitate, continue, “But I have YOU in me. So I am trusting that is enough.”

I find that when I get trapped in fear, it’s often because I’ve decided it’s all up to me. I have to make things happen. I’m responsible for the results. My effort is the engine of the train. When I think that way, I’m exhausted before I even begin.

But this is not the reality I have to live in. The grander, truer story is that within me, I have the God who spoke the world into being. He has no trouble with His to-do list. He’s not wringing His hands over uncompleted tasks. He made starfish and a billion sunsets.

What He is asking of me is not to get something done; He is inviting me on a journey of intimacy with Him. Will you go here with Me?

Whatever you’re pursuing is an invitation, too. The dream, the goal, the desire for reconciliation in a relationship. It is not about the checkmark or trophy, the score or even the satisfaction of completion. What calls to our hearts most is the God who loves us, beckoning us into an adventure with Him.

God did not make you to simply obey Him. He created you for love. To first know you are loved deeply, wildly, beyond imagination. Then to respond with love to that knowing with each breath, each step, each moment.

As I remember this, I breathe deep.

Here’s the secret that can set us free: Say “yes” to Jesus and you cannot fail.

Oh, things may not go the way we want. I know this. I have lived this. I’ve seen everything I longed for most go up in smoke because someone else set fire to it. I’m not saying this out of naiveté or false positivity. I’ve lived too long on this spinning earth to have the luxury of believing everything will be fine.

But when walking with Jesus — to wherever He invites us to go — is the ultimate goal, then fear cannot win and we can’t lose.

At the end of this project, I will be loved.

At the end of whatever you’re pursuing, you will be loved.

At the end of this life, for all of eternity, we will be loved.

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear” (1 John 4:18 NIV). When fear comes for us, the most human thing to do is to try harder, do more, fix it ourselves. But what we need instead of striving for perfection is perfect love, a return to resting in our belovedness. “Perfect” in this verse means whole and complete. When we are afraid, it is often because we have forgotten we are fully loved.

That was true of me this morning. I showed up to this project believing I had something to prove. But this is not so; I can let that go. Instead, I can believe I am loved and let that truth make me brave.

I do not have it in me to do this.

You do not have it in you to do that.

But we have the God who is Love in us.

And that is enough.

Do you want reminders of truth to help fight your fear? Holley created 12 Fear-Fighting, Faith-Building Scripture Cards for you! They’re free!

 

Listen to Holley’s devotion here or on the (in)courage podcast wherever you stream!

Five Minutes to Encourage a Teacher’s Heart

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It’s summer, but back-to-school is just around the corner and we’re thinking about teachers.

Teachers are a gift. They give of themselves tirelessly and from the heart, with barely time for lunch – much less a moment for inspiration! How can we best support them in the work to which they’ve been called?

We think this brand new 5-Minute Teacher Devotional from DaySpring is just the ticket! Read on for an excerpt, find out where to pick up your copy, and enter to WIN one for a special teacher!

A Classroom Overflowing with Joy

“Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice! Let everyone see that you are considerate in all you do.”
Philippians 4:4–5 NLT

Are you ready to embrace today with a heart full of joy and enthusiasm? Your role as a teacher is not just about imparting knowledge, but also about inspiring and uplifting the hearts of those you teach. What an incredible opportunity!

Joy is a powerful force. It’s contagious, uplifting, and transformative. When you bring joy into your classroom, you create an environment where students feel valued, supported, and excited to learn. This isn’t just about adding a bit of fun to the day—although that’s wonderful too—but it is about sharing the deeper, abiding joy that comes from knowing God’s love.

God’s love and grace fill you with a joy that naturally overflows into your interactions with your students, brightening their days and making their learning more meaningful. Think about how you can sprinkle in moments of joy today: giving a warm smile and a wave to a child you taught last year; expressing bold enthusiasm over a child’s art project; organizing a game that breaks the routine and sparks excitement; or simply taking a moment to genuinely listen to a student’s concerns. These small acts can create a ripple effect, spreading positivity and enthusiasm throughout your classroom.

Remember, joy isn’t just about the big wins; it’s also about the small, everyday moments. Your encouragement can light up a child’s path, helping them see their own potential and value. When challenges arise, approach your students with a joyful spirit. Your positivity in the face of challenges models an important lesson for them: that joy can be found even in moments of frustration.

As you step into your classroom today, let your heart be full of the joy that comes from knowing God’s love and grace. Let that joy spill over onto your students, creating an atmosphere where learning is not just educational, but a joy-filled experience.

Heavenly Father, fill me with Your joy and let that joy overflow into my classroom. I pray that my students will find joy in learning, and that they may become lifelong students of You. In Your holy name I pray, Amen.

—

The 5-Minute Teacher Devotional offers quick, meaningful encouragement from God’s Word—perfect for the brief, quiet moments teachers can grab throughout the day. It brings peace and renewed strength for whatever comes next. Thoughtful and uplifting, it also makes a wonderful gift to show teachers how much they’re valued and appreciated.

We LOVE this devotional, and would love to get it in the hands of FIVE deserving teachers*! To enter, just leave a comment below telling us about the teacher to whom you’d gift a copy — or if you are a teacher.

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only, and closes on 7/18/2025 at 11:59 pm Central.

What a Pollen-Drunk Bee Taught Me About Being Chill

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A flash of color through the bedroom window caught my eye. What was that? The sun was still struggling to rise, the darkness slowly rolling back. I couldn’t be sure what I’d seen in the soft, early morning light. So I backtracked, paused at the glass, and searched for the hot-pink hue that had stopped me in my tracks. 

Ahhhh, the wildflowers are blooming! 

Several days had passed since I’d walked around the back side of our home. Nestled against the woods, there is no real reason to walk around that side of the house. Everything we need — the garage, front door, back patio, deck — is accessible from the other side. Until the flash of pink caught my eye through the bedroom window and drew me outside.

As I came around the corner, I could hardly believe the symphony of color that awaited me. Bursts of deep purple, lavender, yellow, white, and hot pink danced before my eyes, the various Colorado wildflowers swaying in the early summer breeze. 

These wildflowers bloom every summer at different times and to varying degrees, depending on the spring’s rainfall and the sun’s heat. This year we’d had an unusually high number of thunderstorms followed by brilliant sunshine. The result was one of the best wildflower displays I’d seen since we lived here.

The only problem? I’d been distracted by life and almost missed it. 

So that day, I slowed my pace and walked the perimeter, taking in the view. I stopped to consider the different varietals, noting their brilliant colors and unique greenery. Some boasted unopened blooms, promising a better display in the coming days. I had to make sure I didn’t miss it. 

Then, toward the end of my self-guided wildflower tour, I noticed a splash of black-and-yellow in the center of one of the purple blooms. Thinking it odd, I leaned closer to investigate. 

To my surprise, what I discovered wasn’t the pistil of the flower, but the butt of a honey bee. Yes, the black-and-yellow striped backside of a bee that had parked himself in the purple cone-shaped bloom like I park my SUV in the garage. Nose in, butt out, engine off. Totally chill. 

I laughed out loud. The bee wasn’t moving. Not a bit. Whether drunk on pollen or simply not a morning person, I couldn’t say. Regardless, he looked quite cozy and unmotivated to leave his purple bed. I marveled at my luck, until I looked to the left and found another bee butt similarly positioned in another purple bloom. Pollen-drunk bees were everywhere. 

This was no longer an anomaly, but a pattern. Nature was doing nature. And it was extraordinary. Who knew?!

Based on his lack of movement or response, I don’t think Mr. Bee was the least bit interested in my epiphany. But my heart danced because in that moment, I felt a hint of the wonder of this marvelous, magical world. And I realized anew that the same God who made the too-cool-for-school bee also made the middle-aged woman who admired him. 

We have the same Creator, little buddy. The same God who made you, made me. How amazing is that?! 

The bee didn’t answer. But my spirit settled. Thank you, Father.

In the weeks and months before, I’d watched with utter helplessness as someone I care for sank deeper and further away from me. Wrestling with personal demons, some of which I couldn’t identify or understand, I prayed over and over again for clarity, wisdom, and divine rescue. Lord, save!

There are a few things as painful as watching someone you love self-destruct, and knowing you can’t do anything to stop it. How does a heart bear it? 

Jesus said, “Look at the lilies and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?”
Luke 12:27-28 (NLT)

As I stood in front of a beautiful wildflower display for which I could take no credit and a comatose bee who remained completely oblivious to my presence, the Holy Spirit reminded me once again that our Father is in the details. He sees the bee napping in a bloom, and He sees the woman who stays awake through the night praying for those she loves. Although much is out of my control and I can’t predict ultimate outcomes, I know that the same Creator who grew the wildflowers and guided the bee can be trusted with the various people and problems that color my often complicated and sometimes heartbreaking life.

Some nights will still pass without sleep. Some days will still be marked by tears. But I can trust the one who cares for me, even more than the flowers and bees He made.

He is where my faith resides. Nose in, butt out, engine off. Totally chill.

And there I will rest.

 

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

This Is What a Woman of Integrity Looks Like

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“A gossip goes around revealing a secret,
but a trustworthy person keeps a confidence.”
Proverbs 11:13 NLT

It’s all around us. The juicy details. The “did you hear?” moments. The whispered updates that make us feel included, important, or in the know. Whether it’s a celebrity scandal online or the latest drama shared in the office parking lot, gossip has been dressed up and disguised as connection.

But let’s be honest: behind every “secret” is a real person with a real heart, and when we repeat what was never ours to share, we participate in tearing down rather than building up.

As women, we’re often tempted to bond through shared information. But the truth is, gossip isn’t harmless. It’s a subtle but powerful force that can distort relationships, erode trust, and pull us away from the kind of life Jesus calls us to. The world tells us it’s fine, even fun, to talk behind backs or trade stories that don’t belong to us.

But we follow a different Way.

Jesus, who is full of grace and truth, invites us to live in freedom — not just freedom from sin, but freedom for integrity, wholeness, and love. That means guarding what’s been entrusted to us, choosing discretion over drama, and being women who are safe and dependable — not just for our friends, but as a reflection of the trustworthy God we serve.

Let’s not pattern our lives after the world’s ways. Let’s pattern our lives after Christ: who sees every person as precious, who never gossips about our struggles, and who always keeps His Word. May we be women who shine His light in dark corners. May our words build bridges, not walls. And may we be known not for the secrets we spill, but for the trust we keep.

Pray with us:

Lord, Thank You for being a safe place for my heart and a keeper of every hidden part of my story. Forgive me for the times I’ve used my words carelessly, for the moments I’ve shared what wasn’t mine to tell or listened when I should’ve walked away.

Help me to be a woman who reflects Your integrity, who chooses truth over gossip, and who protects the hearts of others as I want mine to be protected.

Teach me to be trustworthy, Lord. Let my words be marked by kindness, restraint, and grace.

In a world quick to tear others down, help me shine as a light of love. Amen.

In Christ, We Are Not Rootless

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A few years ago, I found out my husband can trace his lineage back to 1650.

His family’s roots reach deep into the soil of Collelongo, a mountain village in southern Italy. There are records, names, and stories of his people. When he was a kid growing up in a small midwestern town, the community would gather each year for the St. Rocco’s picnic — a yearly celebration that brought together descendants of Collelongo. Whether they realized it or not, that shared tradition served as a grounding force in their lives. Their roots were visible, celebrated, intact.

When I learned this, I was happy for my husband but also heartbroken over my own heritage. At the time, I barely knew who my grandparents were. I couldn’t name more than one great-grandparent. There were no dusty documents or home videos connecting me to a homeland. No saints, no picnics, no lineages printed out on the back church programs. Just gaps, silence, and loss.

I felt like an orphan. Actually, more truthfully, I felt robbed. Because, literally, my people were taken from their land, stripped of their language and culture, renamed, and sold. My ancestors endured the dehumanizing brutality of slavery and carried its legacy for generations. Not only that, but somewhere in the midst of all that suffering and survival, records were lost, some were never even written at all. 

What do you do when your roots are hidden? What do you do when you long to belong, but you don’t know where — or who — you come from?

That question started me on a journey of leaning into my identity as a Black woman. I studied history. I sat with my grief. I wrestled with theology and trauma. And, slowly, I began to find God not just in heaven, but in my heritage. In the silence, I started to hear stories. In the gaps, I saw grace.

Then, in 2016, something changed. At a family reunion (a classic Black family cookout, might I add, with matching T-shirts and all), I was handed a packet of research compiled by some distant relatives on my mother’s side. I opened the pages and there she was.

Feely. My great-great-great-great-grandmother. An enslaved woman who had lived on a plantation in Wake County, North Carolina. 

A name.
A life.
A root.

I wept. Because, for the first time, I could reach back and grab hold of something. Someone. I wasn’t an orphan. I was the daughter of Feely. A descendant of a people who endured pain, who prayed and loved and survived so I could be here today. 

Romans 11 NIV speaks of being “grafted in” — of once being a wild olive shoot, now sharing in the nourishing root of something cultivated. Paul was writing to Gentile believers, reminding them that their inclusion in the family of God wasn’t a mistake or an afterthought.

They belonged. And so do we.

Even when the family tree is fractured. Even when the records are gone. Even when all you have is one name and the weight of what was lost. In Christ, we are not rootless. We are grafted in, joined into God’s love, God’s promise, and God’s people. We are part of a holy lineage. 

Maybe you’ve felt what I’ve felt — disconnected, disqualified, or distant. Maybe your story has gaps and grief, too. But, friend, let me tell you this. Your roots go deeper than the eye can see. Your belonging is not measured by what’s been documented, but by what God has declared. 

You are known.
You are held.
You are home.

Indeed, you are blessed with belonging through the bloodline of Christ.

Safe in His Arms

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Our combined voices lifted up in worship. Our praise swirled under the dome of the outside amphitheater and poured into the surrounding area. It was a glorious Good Friday, with members of our church and people from our community gathered to worship outdoors in celebration of what Jesus did for us on the cross.

As I raised my arms, I felt someone nudge me on my right side. My oldest daughter pressed against me. I gave her shoulders a squeeze and wrapped my arm around her waist to tuck her closer. Within a couple of minutes, I felt another nudge at my left side. My oldest son came close, and I did the same — wrapped my arms around his shoulder and pulled him tight.

The next day, one of my colleagues sent me a picture she snapped of that moment. An image of me with my kids wrapped snugly and safely in my arms.

Safe.

This word safe sometimes feels like an elusive dream because the world at large often doesn’t feel very safe. Yet throughout God’s Word, He reminds us to find refuge and comfort and safety in His arms. No matter the reason. In mourning or rejoicing.

My kids coming near is not limited to daytime moments. Sometimes it’s the midnight hour and beyond when they make their way to us.

Parents everywhere have experienced nights like this. A cry pulls you from your sleep. Or perhaps you pad down the hallway to a distant room (because it feels like a mile when you’re walking at 3 am). Or you awaken to a moonlit figure in the shape of your child standing next to your bed.

This doesn’t happen as often in our home as it used to. But when it has, I’m usually not even aware that my kid has sought refuge in our bed until he or she has absorbed all the remaining space, leaving me to grasp for my life at the edge of the mattress as my comfortable and cozy sleep slips away.

My frustration over interrupted sleep shifted a few years ago when I saw a post pop up on social media — a simple illustration of two parents lying on opposite edges of their bed. Right in the middle was a child nestled between them, snugly buried under the covers. The word “safe” was scribbled above.

Now, when the kids happen to filter in and out at different moments, especially when a nightmare or fear has tried to grip them, and they snuggle under the covers against us, tucked under our arms, I hear this whisper fill my heart: they are safe here.

I’ve not always felt safe in certain places. Not safe to rest fully, or be me fully or to lean against someone for support. And many times it was from the hindrances of my own making because I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone or I feared rejection. Yet throughout scripture, the Holy Spirit whispers the same words to me as I read His word. You are safe here.

That phrase seems to stand in rebellion against all the circumstances in life that tell us otherwise. Relational tension, global conflict, financial distress, battles with health — these situations are real and tangible, and may be pushing us so far beyond our comfort that our steps seem as precarious as those 3 a.m. walks across a lego-laden landscape. At times, we may feel like we are stumbling around in the dark, searching for light, grasping for something to keep us steady against the onslaught of what we can’t control.

But safe doesn’t necessarily mean a place without strife, but a shelter and refuge in the midst of it. Safety is eternally found in the arms of God.

Hebrews 4:16 describes an invitation from the King of Kings that has always fascinated me:

“Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” (NIV)

I’m in awe of the way my kids bound into my husband‘s arms, or how my youngest daughter will plop herself down on one of our laps without even looking because she has total confidence that we will be there and that she is welcome.

But God’s welcome is so much more open, and redemptive, and safer, and stable than this.

A storm may be raging. Or we may be on a mountaintop rejoicing. But whatever the case, there is a place where we can dwell and remain safely. Jesus paid the price for us to come boldly. He invites us to be wrapped up in His everlasting arms and to press snugly against His pierced side.

We are safe with Him.

 

Listen to Jenny’s devotion here or on the (in)courage podcast, streaming everywhere!

How the Hard Seasons in Life Are Making You Better

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When five besties are coordinating busy schedules, finding a date everyone can get together is tricky. But friendship is always worth the effort, and we were downright giddy to be celebrating not one but two of our group members’ birthdays. No one even cared that our party was a month late.

We planned an unhurried dinner at one of our homes, which allowed us plenty of space and privacy. It was the perfect decision. While a delicious meal is something to look forward to, we were hungrier for catching up and conversation.

Eventually we got to the hard stuff.

One of our five was swirling in multiple layers of heartache, and the “flaming arrows of the evil one” were many and mean (Ephesians 6:16b NASB). This precious friend loves and serves Jesus, but in this season, she was really struggling — and hurting all the more because people she loves were also hurting. She wasn’t wrestling with unbelief or doubt, but with the kind of despair and ugliness that can creep into heart and mind when life isn’t fair.

Sometimes, even people with a vibrant faith grow weary from holding their shield of faith (Ephesians 6:10-17 NASB).

We listened as she shared hurt upon hurt. We allowed her freedom, without judgment, to be honest about her feelings. And we felt her pain as our own.

We also saw her humanity, the natural way a heart responds when it’s wounded, because we’ve all been there. I can’t imagine anyone who hasn’t battled anger, bitterness, resentment, or jealousy when life doubles down on unfairness. We may hate those feelings – and even resist them – but they’re part and parcel of being human in a broken world.

In the middle of a mess, friendship can be a lifeline pointing you back to Jesus. Not trying to fix or minimize our friend’s circumstances, we offered our encouragement and insight. As the others spoke, an image began to form in my mind that had nothing to do with our conversation. I’m not prone to “visions;” in fact, I don’t remember ever having one before. But when there was a pause in the conversation, I blurted it out in one rambly sentence —

“A very specific picture came to mind as you were talking, and even though it feels weird to me since I don’t exactly have ‘visions,’ my heart is beating fast and I feel like the Holy Spirit is urging me to share what I see: The image of a meat mallet pounding the heck out of a tough cut of meat.”

It’s not like I have a lot of experience tenderizing meat. The only thing I use my mallet for is to flatten boneless chicken, crush graham crackers for piecrusts, and when I made schnitzel the year we lived in Germany. But that’s what my vision was, and I saw it as a rich, albeit surprising, metaphor for faith and what my friend was going through.

It helps to understand the purposes of a meat mallet first:

  • To tenderize tough cuts by breaking down tough muscle fibers and connective tissues, making them easier to chew.
  • To even the thickness to make sure thinner parts aren’t overcooked and thicker parts don’t remain undercooked.
  • To improve the absorption of marinades, seasonings, or sauces.

How is this accomplished?

  • The mechanical force disrupts the protein structure, physically breaking apart the long muscle fibers that cause toughness.
  • The connective tissues (like collagen) get partially ruptured, which helps the meat become more pliable when cooked.

Because the meat is more tender, evenly cooked, and flavorful, it is better than before.

Difficult circumstances were a “meat mallet” to my friend, breaking her heart, disrupting her life, and rupturing her dreams and those of people she loves. The situation had been going on for months, it didn’t make sense, and she couldn’t see beyond the resulting pain. Even though she believed God had a plan, in the middle of this trial, her humanity was exposed. Her emotions were understandable given the circumstances — and were impossible to escape.

I bet most of us have been there with our own version of meat mallet circumstances that break hearts, disrupt plans, and destroy dreams.

What is helpful to me in seasons where I’m wrestling with my humanity is to remember that I have an enemy who is always and only against me. Spiritual warfare.

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Ephesians 6:12 NIV

My friend is stepping into a new role in women’s ministry; that night, using the meat mallet metaphor, I could see a big ol’ target on her back. The “power of this dark world” doesn’t want God to be magnified in her life or for her to impact hundreds of women on a weekly basis. Satan will fire a million “flaming arrows” at those who love and serve God and want to make much of Him.

Not just at my friend, but at you and me, too.

One of the most wonderful truths when we’re under spiritual attack is to remember an applicable lesson from Genesis 50:20 (NIV). Though an enemy intends to harm us, God is using those same circumstances for good.

In the midst of my friend’s brokenness, her heart was made tender, fertile ground for the Spirit to accomplish hard and holy work. In God’s economy, nothing is wasted. I can already see how God will use her experience to encourage others who will walk through similar circumstances. This experience, a refining fire, is making her better.

When life is unfair, and you feel like the world is pounding you to pieces, it might help to think about a meat mallet. What is so painful in the moment produces something better than before.

And that is something to chew on for a while.

 

Listen to Robin’s devotion here or on your favorite podcast app.

What’s Really Keeping You Stuck and Blocking Your Blessing

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The best part of all the rain we’ve been getting recently is that my garden is thriving during these summer months. I can’t keep up with all the hydrangea blooms in my backyard. Last week, I cut two beautiful stems from my garden to enjoy in my living room. They were full, vibrant, and a beautiful shade of purplish pink — just like the hydrangeas I’d cut weeks before and placed around my house in vases.

But these blooms wilted within two days. I was shocked, and I couldn’t figure out the reason. I did the same thing with these blooms as I have always done. I emptied the water, thinking maybe a fresh fill would help. But as I emptied the vase, I noticed something white wedged at the bottom.

The vase had a narrow neck, so I couldn’t see it clearly. But when I reached inside, I felt it. It was a paper towel. I quickly remembered how I stuffed paper towels deep down in this vase when I had used it to hold some fake flowers last year.

And in that moment, it hit me… that old paper towel had been soaking up the water. I couldn’t see it, but it was there competing for the water meant for my hydrangea blooms.

My poor flowers never had a chance. It wasn’t their fault. They were dying because something hidden was stealing what was meant to nourish them.

And I wondered: How many of us are walking through life like that?

Doing everything “right.”

Reading our Bibles. Going to church. Praying. Showing up.

But we still feel wilted and drained, as if our soul is stuck in a state of survival.

When we feel like nothing is working, we strive to do more. We search for an answer on Google or explore another version of spirituality just to feel alive.

But what if the thing we actually need to do is to look inside the vase — find the root cause within ourselves? What if it wasn’t about doing more or adding something, but removing what has been blocking our growth?

The childhood wound you never processed.
The hidden addiction that has you bound.
The unforgiveness that follows you around like a shadow.
The shame that causes you to shrink and silence yourself in rooms.
The idols that you hold so close.

We try to suppress or ignore them, we try to fake it for a while to survive — but those things are stuck to the walls of our souls. These blockades don’t go away just because we can’t see them. Sometimes it’s in the most beautiful and flourishing seasons of life that you’re reminded of those paper towels deep within that are keeping you stuck.

I believe God allows these moments of awareness that something is blocking our nourishment so we can begin to walk in wholeness.

We can’t heal what we refuse to see.

The woman at the well had a lot of hidden pain and trauma stuffed down deep in her soul — until Jesus met her on a hot afternoon. He offered her Living Water that would give her the life she had been searching for.

The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.”

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. What you have said is true.”
John 4:15-18 ESV

Before she could receive the Living Water, He asked her to first dig deep into her own story.

The hidden and painful parts of our lives that we don’t want to share — Jesus sees them. Just like He did for the Samaritan woman, Jesus invites us to look within, to clear out the things that have been draining the life out of us so He can pour good things into us, fill us to overflowing so we can thrive again.

Growth and abundant life are ours when we trade our trauma for His Truth. Make room for His Word to go deep and bear fruit.

The reason you keep repeating history and making the same bad choices isn’t because you lack wisdom but because of the old patterns of thinking that you haven’t surrendered to God. Jesus wants to help you rid yourselves of those old paper towels.

Will you do the deep inner work of looking within and removing the things that the Holy Spirit reveals?

“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
Psalm 139:23-24 NIV


Listen to Simi’s devotion here or on your favorite podcast app!

Planted in a Hard Season? Here’s the Hope You Need Today

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Jack had his beanstalk. But here in the Midwest? We had the 57th Street Corn.

It sprouted, of all places, through a crack in the concrete at a busy intersection on 57th Street in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Everyone was talking about the 57th Street Corn. People took selfies with it. Someone made a Twitter account for it. Local news crews even showed up with cameras.

I know what you’re thinking: “You must have a lot of slow news days in the Midwest.” Maybe so. But I couldn’t get enough of it. Honestly, people all over our part of the world fell in love with that lone corn stalk. (Or, as some called it, “corn on the curb.”) Walkers and joggers even stopped to water it during their daily exercise routes. Against all odds, it actually grew an ear of corn.

Here’s why I think we were all so captivated by the 57th Street Corn:

All summer long, that scrappy stalk became more than a roadside oddity. It became a symbol of resilience and hope. This little miracle of a plant showed us all what it means to bloom where you’re planted — despite the conditions and despite the hardships of life.

I need that reminder. Maybe you do, too. Because sometimes we find ourselves planted in circumstances we didn’t choose — seasons of loss, disappointment, dryness, or storm. And it’s easy to believe that nothing good can grow from there.

If I were the 57th Street Corn, I would’ve asked questions like:

Why have I been planted in such a hard place when everyone else got planted in a lush field?

Why am I growing so slowly?                                                                                   

Will I ever see a harvest?

I would have thought, “This growth is taking forever!”  

Scripture offers hope to those of us who are planted in a hard place. The Bible is filled with people who were planted in difficulty and still grew in faith. Paul, for example, endured beatings, shipwrecks, imprisonment, hunger, and sleepless nights (2 Corinthians 11:22–27). Yet he didn’t give up. In fact, he wrote much of the New Testament from some very hard places.

Paul would even write these astonishing words from prison:

“I have learned how to be content with whatever I have… For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.”
Philippians 4:11–13 NIV

Even more, Jesus understands what it’s like to grow in adversity, to grow out of a hard and dry place. Before Jesus was born, the prophet Isaiah wrote of the Savior:

“He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground.”
Isaiah 53:2 NIV

Yes, Jesus gets it.

Friend, you’re not alone in the hard places you’ve been planted. God is with you. And He’s not just helping you survive — He’s helping you grow strong, deep, and resilient.

So look upon your field. Even now, He’s growing good things in you.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re like the 57th Street Corn.

You didn’t choose the sidewalk. You didn’t ask for the concrete. But there you are … stretching toward the sun anyway, defying the odds and reminding the world that with God, growth is possible anywhere.

You’re not stuck. You’re planted.

And something beautiful is going to bloom.

If you’ve been planted in a hard place and feel like growth is slow, we think you’d like Jennifer’s book, Growing Slow.

 

Listen to Jennifer’s devotion here or wherever you stream the (in)courage podcast!

Transitions, Disappointment, and the Faithfulness of God

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Disappointment is rarely convenient. It doesn’t ask our permission before it moves in, packs a punch, and stays longer than we’d like.

I recently walked through a painful transition that reminded me just how vulnerable disappointment can make us feel. After living in the same home for nearly a decade, rising costs forced me to move. For over a year, I searched for a solution. I tried everything I could think of — and everything friends suggested — but nothing opened up.

I’m a planner by nature, someone who thrives on consistency and struggles with change. So, to live in such uncertainty for so long was more than uncomfortable. It was exhausting. When moving day came and I still had nowhere to go, I felt scared and utterly alone. I had quietly hoped a few friends, who had extra space, might invite me in. They didn’t. Though they prayed for me — and I was grateful for that — the kind of help I’d imagined never came.

My heart sank under the weight of unmet expectations.

The thing about unmet expectations is that they don’t always come from a place of entitlement. I wasn’t demanding or even asking — I just assumed. I truly thought these friends would be the ones to step in. But they didn’t.

But God.

In His kindness, He made a way — just not through the people I expected. A dear friend, one I hadn’t anticipated, provided a place for me to live. Her sacrificial giving stunned me. It was a blessing I could never repay.

Her generosity reminded me of one of my favorite portions of Scripture: Acts 2:42–47. These verses offer a glimpse into the life of the early Church — a community of believers marked by unity, worship, and radical generosity. “And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had,” verses 44–45 (NLT) tell us. “They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need.”

This wasn’t about obligation or guilt. It was about a posture of open hands and willing hearts. The early believers recognized that everything they had belonged to God. They lived not for themselves, but for each other, because of Christ.

That’s what my friend did. She didn’t help because she had to; she helped because she wanted to. She lived out the spirit of Acts 2, and in doing so, she became the answer to my prayer.

I’ve learned to live in the middle of what author and podcaster Abi Stumvoll calls “truths in tension.” Two things can be true at the same time: I can be disappointed and deeply grateful. I can mourn what didn’t happen while praising God for what did. I can acknowledge that some people didn’t show up in the way I’d hoped and still see God’s faithfulness in the friend who did.

And honestly? That’s the invitation of faith. To hold the hard and the holy at the same time. To say, “This hurts,” and still whisper, “God is good.”

Unmet expectations often reveal where we’ve placed our trust. I expected provision to come in a certain way, from certain people. But God reminded me that His ways are higher than mine, and often more surprising. He used someone unexpected to meet my needs and to gently show me that I am seen, held, and cared for.

This experience didn’t just shift my circumstances — it shifted my heart. It taught me to stop clinging so tightly to how I think things should go and instead rest in God’s sovereignty and timing. His provision might not look the way I imagined, but it is always enough.

The Lord and I are still processing my disappointment. Healing doesn’t always come quickly, and that’s okay. But through it all, I’m learning to trust Him more — to lean into His love, to receive His grace, and to believe that He truly is a good Father.

Have you ever been surprised by God’s provision in a moment of great disappointment? I’d love to hear your story.

 

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

Always Pray, Never Give Up

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“One day Jesus told his disciples a story to show that they should always pray and never give up.”
Luke 18:1 NLT

This is the introduction to the Parable of the Persistent Widow (Luke 18:1–8), where Jesus paints a picture of persistent, faith-filled prayer. The point of the story is that if even an unjust judge eventually responds to persistent requests, how much more will our loving, just Father respond to those who keep coming to Him in prayer without losing heart.

Jesus shared this story to encourage us to see prayer not as a last resort, but as a way of life — a rhythm of returning to God again and again. It reminds us that our persistent prayers matter, not because we wear God down, but because we grow closer to His heart. Every time we choose to pray, we are leaning into His goodness and learning to trust Him more deeply, one conversation at a time.

Summer is here, with its long, bright days and gentle breezes — and it reminds us that every season holds its own invitations from God. One of those invitations is to draw near to Him in prayer. Jesus told His disciples to always pray and never give up, because He knows how easily we grow weary in waiting.

Maybe you’ve been praying the same prayer for years. Maybe you’re waiting for an answer you can’t quite see yet. Wherever you find yourself today, God hears every whispered request, every tearful plea, every silent sigh of your heart.

He never grows tired of hearing from you.

And here’s the beautiful truth about prayer: we don’t have to strive or craft perfect words — we simply come as we are. Trusting in His perfect timing, knowing that our prayers never go unnoticed by our faithful Father. Even when His answer looks different than we expected, His timing is never too early and never too late.

So today, as you savor summer’s light, would you take a moment to draw close to God in prayer? Bring Him your hopes, your fears, your longings. Keep praying, friend, and don’t give up. Let’s make this a sacred space where we can encourage one another in prayer.

Your turn: Leave your prayer request in the comments. And before you go, would you also take a moment to pray for the woman who commented before you?

Let’s come alongside one another and trust that God is moving powerfully — even in the waiting.

A Heart Lift for Your Summer Weekend

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“Let the whole earth shout triumphantly to the Lord!
Serve the Lord with gladness;
come before him with joyful songs.
Acknowledge that the Lord is God.
He made us, and we are his —
his people, the sheep of his pasture.
Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise.
Give thanks to him and bless his name.
For the Lord is good, and his faithful love endures forever;
his faithfulness, through all generations.”
Psalm 100 CSB

When stress and anxiety weigh us down, it can feel impossible to “shout triumphantly” or “come before Him with joyful songs.” Joy doesn’t come easily when grief, loss, or exhaustion seem to be constant companions.

Yet Psalm 100 reminds us of a deeper truth:
We can embrace joy because of who God is — not because our circumstances feel light.

Verses 3 and 5 invite us to recognize that He is God — Creator, Shepherd, the One who loves us faithfully across all generations. That kind of certainty is an unshakable reason for praise.

When we lean into that reality, our hands and hearts can open to Him. Even on our hardest days, His goodness gives us reason to sing.

Let’s pray together:
God, help us remember all the ways You’ve walked with us. Thank You that You never change, even when everything around us feels uncertain. Fill us with Your joy and draw us into Your presence. Amen.

…

Summer (in) the Psalms
Summer days can look different for all of us — slow and restful, busy and loud, or simply a different version of our usual routines. Wherever you find yourself this summer, it takes intention to make time for Jesus in the middle of it all.

And there’s no better place to camp out than in the Psalms.

The Psalms are a beautiful record of people honestly wrestling with God — praising Him, crying out to Him, and seeing His nearness in every season. They remind us that God meets us in our real-life struggles, transforming fear into trust and sorrow into praise.

If you’re looking for a simple and meaningful way to draw closer to God this summer, try reading one Psalm a day!

And if you’d like even more encouragement, check out the Summer (in) the Psalms YouTube playlist from the (in)courage archives — a heartfelt series of conversations with (in)courage writers about God’s Word.

Please note: the print journal mentioned in the videos is no longer available. All devotions are from the (in)courage Devotional Bible.

We’d love to know — what’s your favorite Psalm? Let us know in the comments!

 

Your Fourth Of July Reminder: You Are Free Indeed

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Fireworks light the sky. Flags wave. Grills sizzle and laughter fills the air. On this day, we celebrate the gift of living in a free country. And what a gift it is — to gather openly, speak boldly, worship freely.

But whether you’re surrounded by loved ones today or feeling the sting of loneliness… whether your heart swells with gratitude for our nation or aches under the weight of division, disappointment, or global unrest… there is a greater freedom we must not overlook.

True freedom doesn’t come from a government or a set of rights. True freedom comes from Christ.

We are free because Jesus took our sin, our shame, and our punishment. He bore the weight of death and broke its power forever. Because of His love, we are no longer captives to fear, condemnation, or hopelessness.

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”
2 Corinthians 3:17 (CSB)

Today, let us celebrate with gratitude. But even more, let us stand firm in the unshakable truth:
We are free because we are His. Perfectly loved. Forever secure.

Soak in these words of truth:

“The Spirit of the Lord God is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and freedom to the prisoners .”
Isaiah 61:1

“For you were called to be free, brothers and sisters; only don’t use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but serve one another through love.”
Galatians 5:13

“If you continue in my word, you really are my disciples.You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”
John 8:31-32

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus, because the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and death.”
Romans 8:1-2

Because of Christ’s amazing love, we are free indeed.

Pray with us:

Lord, thank You for the gift of true freedom. On this day when we celebrate liberty as a nation, we look to You as the source of all true liberty. Thank You that because of Jesus, we are free from the power of sin, shame, and fear. Help us to walk as Your daughters — not burdened by the past, not shaken by the present, and never uncertain about the future.

Fill us with deep gratitude for what You have done, and help us to use our freedom to love and serve one another. Whether we are rejoicing with friends and family or feeling the ache of isolation, remind us that we are never alone. We are forever free, held in Your perfect love.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Empowered to Trust God

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“When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you,
and the rivers will not overwhelm you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be scorched,
and the flame will not burn you.”
Isaiah 43:2 CSB

My youngest daughter is fearless. Well, not technically, because thunderstorms still send her running to my bedroom at night. But when it comes to leaping from the couch to the ottoman or hanging off the outside edge of the stairs, she doesn’t give a second thought to caution or safety.

It’s the same at the swimming pool. This past summer she had nearly outgrown her life jacket. But as a mom who’s far from fearless, I insisted she wear it anyway. Even though the arm floaties were a smidge tight. Even though she vowed she was just fine without them!

I simply did not trust her swimming skills yet. I did, however, trust that life jacket. That didn’t mean I left her alone at the pool. I didn’t camp out in a lounge chair, eyes glued to a book or my phone. No, I stayed in the pool with her or nearby while watching closely. But in the split second between seeing her jumping off the side and seeing her head pop back above the surface of the water, I could breathe.

On the rare occasion I let her take off her life jacket, it was a different story. Not only did I have to be in the water, I had to be within an arm’s reach. And I absolutely did not breathe from the moment she became airborne until I had her back in my arms above water.

I don’t want to oversimplify matters of faith, but for me, trusting God is like putting everyone and everything I care about in a giant life jacket.

Right now, I have a sticky note on my planner with a list of names written on it. It’s my urgent prayer list: a friend with breast cancer, two friends going through divorce, a friend whose husband has cancer, a friend whose husband lost his job, a family friend recovering from pneumonia. I haven’t written my husband, daughters, or brother on the list, because they never leave my prayers, but at times their needs are no less urgent than these.

If I let myself, I could become completely consumed with fear over each one of those situations. The what-ifs and worst-case scenarios whirl around my brain like a tornado, leaving behind as much damage as an actual twister. Chest pain, shortness of breath, tense muscles, and a flood of tears show up any time my loved ones cross my mind. As I desperately rack my brain for tangible ways to help or clever solutions to suggest, my shoulders reach my ears and my eyes widen to the point of causing a headache. I become completely unhelpful and even discouraging to those I so deeply wish to help and encourage.

Thankfully, I’m not alone in my fear. Though God allows me to go there if I choose, He doesn’t leave me in that dark place. He whispers, “Come to me,” and offers to take my burden (Matt. 11:28–30). And He reminds me that, just as He vows to be with me when I go through deep waters and raging fires, He’s made the same promise to each one of those people on my Post-it prayer list.

God’s promises—to love us, to care for us, to be with us no matter what—don’t just mean I can trust Him with my own safety and wellbeing, with my own life and heart and soul. No, He’s promised each and every one of us—and each and every one of the people I love—the same things. And while those promises don’t necessarily mean we will experience physical healing or safety, they do mean I can trust Him with the hearts and souls of my loved ones as well as with my own.

And what a gift that is! What a relief! Because when we trust God with those we love, not only are we relieved of the anxiety that comes from worrying and attempting to control their lives, but we are actually able to love them better. When we trust God with our loved ones, we don’t have to keep them within arm’s reach or in a cage or a bubble. We are freed up to love them without pressure. That’s when they can see the love of God through us and be encouraged by our trust in Him.

DEAR GOD, thank You for always being faithful to Your promises. Forgive me for grasping at the illusion of control instead of leaning on You. Remind me of Your faithfulness, and help me trust You more—with my own life and with my loved ones. Amen.

Written by Mary Carver from Empowered: More of Him for All of You

Looking for a meaningful summer read? Empowered is an invitation to stop striving and start abiding. Through 60 daily readings, you’ll be reminded that your value doesn’t come from doing more or being better — but from being God’s beloved. If you’ve ever felt like you weren’t enough or tried to fix your life with a dose of self-help, this devotional offers a deeper, lasting truth.

With Scripture, storytelling, and soul-stirring prompts, you’ll be equipped to live fully — mind, body, and spirit — in the freedom and wholeness found in Christ.

Find your copy at DaySpring or your favorite retailer.

When Your Spirit Is Overwhelmed

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I work my full-time job from a desk in the corner of my bedroom. Just to the right of my chair is the only full-length mirror in the house. It hangs on my scratched-up, builder-grade closet door and reflects me sitting at my desk. And usually, a kid who comes visiting.

There’s laundry piled high on one side of the chair. I don’t know if it’s dirty or clean— probably both. Until April, there was a Christmas tree peeking out in the corner. I’ve had the desk chair since college, and my chipped-paint desk was a garage sale find. Packages opened but not dealt with lie just out of my mirror view. Jeans wait in a bag to be returned. Summer activity brochures splay open on the carpet, my desk tasks spilling over onto the floor.

Outside the bedroom/office door, my kids bicker and protest bedtime, and more laundry waits. House projects compel, dishes fill the sink, and the empty fridge reminds me I need to get groceries, stat.

I only must turn around to see the ways I’m behind on life.

My to-do list always overruns the lines on a page, reminding me that it will never end. It’s not hard to get overwhelmed by it all. So many tasks. Some nonnegotiable, others that can (and will) wait. Yet amidst the to-do’s engulfing me, there’s a tiny nugget of peace when I remember the Hands that are truly holding all things together.

When I’m overcome by the tasks and ordinary stuff of my life, even then God is with me. It doesn’t require a crisis to be exhausted and in need of God’s peace. When we remember to lean into Him instead of fretting over what remains undone, it can seriously strengthen our hearts.

On the overwhelming and ordinary days, He knows our steps, and He walks them with us. The tasks may pile up, but they’ll never overtake the love, peace, and strength God has for us.

“When my spirit was overwhelmed within me,
Then You knew my path.“
Psalm 142:3 NKJV

This devotion is by Anna E. Rendell as published in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle.

Friend, what feels overwhelming in your life today? Ask God to show you the one next step He wants you to take. Ask Him to give you a picture of what the path ahead looks like. Ask Him to reassure your spirit of His steadfast presence. We’d love to hear in the comments what the Lord brings to your mind!

Surely, the Lord is near. His strength is yours. Rest in Him today.

Looking for a meaningful summer read? For more real stories and biblical encouragement for daily life, grab a copy of our (in)courage devotional journal, 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle. We’ve prayed over every page and we know you’ll finish the journey changed by God’s strength.