Fun Family Fourth of July Traditions

Fun Family Fourth of July Traditions

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Drive around neighborhoods today and you might see the haze from backyard cookouts lazily permeating the clear, summer sky. The aroma draws you in, and memories of past July 4th grilling events flood to the forefront. (It’s amazing how our God-given sense of smell holds memories as well, doesn’t it?)

Fireflies flicker, friends gather, watermelon seeds are spit, and children sit on the blanket waiting in anticipation of the first explosion of fireworks.

The Fourth of July holds many traditions for Americans. It’s a holiday that represents freedom, courage, and sacrifice, and yet possibly, burgers and sparklers have taken the place of its true symbolism.

Whether you celebrate July 4th or not, embrace the opportunity to take the conversation to the next level and engage family and friends in a discussion of what true courage really means. It doesn’t have to be organized, forced, or stressful, just a time of intentional sharing about the deeper meaning behind this week’s celebrations, and why we have some of the traditions that we do.

Many years ago on the Fourth of July, it started pouring as soon as we arrived at the high school stadium where fireworks were going to be launched. Our family raced to our van and waited for the storm to pass. Instead of letting the kids moan about our wasted evening, we preempted the complaints with some soul-searching discussion on our definition of courage. We used the time to share examples of people who we each viewed as courageous and why. We asked our kids to think of one person who was still living that they feel symbolizes real-life courage,  and then share one person that exemplifies this from history.

The rain never did pass, and the fireworks were canceled, but this evening holds more memories due to the lasting impact in the hearts of our children as we shared life –  life to its fullest, packed like sardines in a minivan.

This established a new tradition for our family — one that you can do too! You can even take the courage conversation one step further by recording the answers from your kids. Cut out paper stars. The older ones can write on their own stars and you can have the younger ones dictate their answers. On the top of each star write, “I love my country because…” or “Courage means to me..” and then leave space for the wonderfully spontaneous answers you will collect over the years.

Every year, read the answers from previous years to see how the meanings, modeling of life circumstances, and examples have changed and matured. You can use these patriotic declarations to decorate the tablecloth at your Fourth of July barbecue or collage them into your Fourth of July Album with your annual picnic photo. (Or post to Instagram if that’s your modern version of a digital scrapbook.)

Since our children are getting older, the discussions keep getting better. This year, our family is going to ponder these quotes.

“Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.” – Winston Churchill

“Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at its testing point.” – C.S. Lewis

Why don’t you join us?

Since building traditions into our family’s tapestry is a high priority, I love trying to meld the fun with the inspirational. Check out my 4th of July section on traditions for additional ideas.

Let’s inspire each other. Do you have any special Fourth of July traditions that your family does each year?

This post originally appeared on (in)courage here.

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Learning to Love My Body in a Barbie World

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We are in the throes of summer where I live. Summer signals backyard barbecues, watermelon juice dripping down kids’ arms, Fourth of July fireworks, and peach cobbler with homemade ice cream. Just about everything feels sweet in summer except for the fact that I have to put on a swimsuit.

I’m not proud to admit this, but last summer I nearly drove myself crazy searching for the perfect swimsuit. I scrolled for days, saving suits to Pinterest boards, reading reviews, and ordering suits off Amazon to try on at home. (I mean who wants to get stuck in a dressing room trying to squeeze their body parts into polyester?)

Now that I’m in my later forties and what I fondly call “the sweaty season of life,” my body feels a little out of whack. Despite an active lifestyle, I’ve gained extra pounds that I can’t seem to keep off. My skin is sensitive. And my hormones are definitely frolicking all over the place, depending on the day.

As a mama to three girls, it’s always been important to me to keep a tight rein on negative scripts about my body. I don’t want to model for my daughters a sense of shame about body image.

The world apart from Christ manipulates us to believe beauty is queen, and it looks a certain way. We are shaped by negative mindsets that tell us we are too fat, too frumpy, too freckled, or fill-in-the-blank to be considered desirable. 

We start to believe all we need to do is change that one thing about ourselves to truly be accepted.

I have learned that I am most vulnerable to these unhealthy mindsets when I am tired, not spending time in Scripture, and not abiding closely with Jesus.

Last summer I took my three daughters to see the Barbie movie everyone was talking about. My oldest is really into movies and loves the director. I thought this film might be a good one for us to process together.

Mind you, I am a second-generation daughter who refused to buy Barbies for my girls when they were little because my mama taught me Barbie was unrealistic and not representative of girls like me with brown skin and thick, curly hair. She didn’t want me to have some unachievable idea of what my body should look like.

We four girls settled into our movie seats with a theater full of mostly women donning every shade of pink. I didn’t have high expectations for the film, but I was pleasantly surprised by the end.

Perhaps the most poignant scene is when Barbie (Margot Robbie) sits down at a bus stop next to an older woman reading the newspaper. Barbie has just been roasted by a teenager in the “real world,” and she’s feeling a little tender about the harsh, unexpected reality she finds herself in.

The two women lock eyes. Barbie pauses, studies the woman’s wrinkled face, and proclaims, “You’re so beautiful!” 

“I know it!” the woman replies with confidence. The woman’s lips curve into a welcoming smile, and Barbie giggles through tears. 

The way I see it, that confident golden girl is ministering to Barbie with her courageous declaration. She is not flaunting her body, but she is celebrating it in all of its baggy-skin-wrinkled-face glory. There is room for this woman and for Barbie on the proverbial bus stop bench. 

It’s a message that made me misty-eyed because I needed to hear it. I want my daughters to feel it in their bodies too. 

Here are truths I’m walking in today as I’m shifting to a Kingdom body mindset:

  1. Our allegiance isn’t to culture; it’s to the King.

The culture tells us through a barrage of posts, videos, products, and more that we have to make ourselves beautiful. But the Bible tells us something different. 

“So God created human beings in his own image. In the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27 NLT)

Friends, the King created you and me in His image. That means we are created on purpose for a purpose. He looks on us with love and adoration because He fashioned us with His very own hands.

  1. Our bodies express the diversity of God’s creation.

The psalmist reminds us that we are each uniquely and purposefully designed to express God’s creativity:

“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous — how well I know it.” (Psalm 139:13-14 NLT)

When we walk with courage and confidence in our bodies, we are showing off His creative workmanship.

  1. Our bodies were made to worship the King of Kings.

“Let everything that has breath praise the Lord,” says Psalm 150:6.

We can use our bodies — our lips, our hips, our passions, and gifts — to praise Him.

We are all beautiful because we are daughters of the Creator King. 

That’s why this year I bought myself an electric pink tankini, and I’m wearing it with pride at the pool. I am 47 years old and more mushy around the middle than I was a few decades ago, but my mindset has truly strengthened. I believe beauty is in every body!

Raise your hands in the comments if you struggle with body image. If you are willing to share, I’d love to hear you replace a lie with a truth about yourself and your body today.

Dorina helps people discover God’s glory on life’s unexpected trails. Subscribe to Dorina’s Glorygram here for reflections, recommendations, and details about her latest kids book, Kailani’s Gift.

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Don’t Wait for the Funeral to Do This

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Last month, I started a practice of texting one person every day with the sole purpose of encouraging them.

The messages aren’t long or remotely poetic. Many are quite simple, like:

“God brought you to mind today, and it reminded me how much I appreciate our friendship.”

“Saw your smiling face at church today. You bring so much joy into every room!”

 Recently, I texted one friend who consistently goes out of her way to bless other people. The text was longer than most, because I wanted to call out the trail of kindness she leaves wherever she goes.

A few seconds later, my phone beeped with her response: “Well, thanks, but where did that come from?!? LOL! I love and appreciate you too!”  

In another season of my life, I might have felt ridiculous for gushing so profusely in my text to her. But I have learned the hard way that I never want to withhold my appreciation for others. 

Here’s what I told her in response:

“I sent it to you ‘just because.’ I believe that if you see something good in someone, you shouldn’t withhold it. I don’t like waiting for funerals to say nice things about people. I rather enjoy telling the living.”

I’m no hero for taking 30 seconds out of every day to send someone an encouraging text. I am doing it because I have wept at too many graveside services, regretting that I hadn’t said more. It can feel like a punch in the gut when it’s too late to tell someone how you feel.

We always think we’ll have the time, but if you’ve unexpectedly lost someone you love, you know that we don’t always have that luxury.

I’ve decided that I don’t want to wait until tomorrow to say what needs to be said today.

When I open my Bible to the Gospels, I see that kind of urgency with Jesus. He couldn’t afford to wait to say what needed to be said. On the night before His crucifixion, He took the time to demonstrate with words and actions His love for His closest friends, as well as for future believers. 

He served them, by washing their feet. (See John 13:4-5.)

He comforted them. (See John 14:1-4.)

He told them about the coming of the Holy Spirit.  (See John 14:16-17.)

He prayed for them – and for us. (See John 17:6-26.)

And Jesus told them of His great love for them – which is a model for us as we love others today. “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. … I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:9 and 12-13 NIV).

Sharing that kind of love with others can be as simple as a 30-second text. Or it could be potentially uncomfortable – because it may require you to have a long overdue, face-to-face encounter with someone you need to make amends with.

I trust that the Holy Spirit will show you how this might unfold for you.

But the bottom line is this: let’s not wait. We might not have that kind of time. 

What words do you need to say? Find the strength to say them, today.

Let someone know you love them, today.

Make amends, today.

Send that text, today.

Let’s not wait for the funeral to tell someone what they mean to us.

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

Now Is the Time to Fight for Thankfulness

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So much of our society has become focused on self and our own wants and desires, which is a direct reflection of our sinful nature. Our default setting is to look out for numero uno. Just observe siblings or children at a playdate. They fight over toys all while screaming “Mine!” We have to learn to share, to be generous, to put others first.

Even when we have learned to be unselfish, we can often still lack gratitude. Take a look at a group of teenagers and you’ll likely see individuals who can share because they know it’s what they’re supposed to do, but a sense of deep-seated entitled still snuffs out lasting gratefulness.

Certainly, the enemy likes it when we focus on ourselves instead of others. He likes it when our desires take precedence. He likes it when we are ungrateful.

I’ve tried to take inventory of my life recently. Have I been guilty of ingratitude? Have I only gone to God in times of trouble when I needed something? Have I sought Him more for what He can do for me than just getting to know Him?

I have repeatedly prayed for a heart to know God even if He never did another thing for me. But, my flesh — the pull of the fallen world within me — can be so strong. It can be a fight to die to our flesh. But, that is the Lord’s heart for us. He wants us, every part of us. He wants to help us die to our flesh so we can experience new life in Him. Jesus came to give us life to full! But we can’t receive what He wants to give us if we’re focused on ourselves and stuck in entitlement or ingratitude.

A few days ago at church, our Pastor called for anyone who needed prayer to come to the altar so that the Body could lay hands and pray for their needs. I went to the front because I’ve been drowning in some areas of my life — yet I’ve been believing for supernatural provision and breakthrough.

It was beautiful, as always. One of my favorite things is to hear a group of Believers praying in one heart, one mind, and one accord. The room prayed. Each of us that came forward prayed. We could feel the faith and expectation in the room rising.

Then everyone began to disperse.

All of a sudden, Pastor did something that I don’t think he’s done before. He said he didn’t believe we were done praying yet. He explained, “I heard the Lord say that we only gave Him time to hear what you wanted, but you didn’t thank Me. You didn’t magnify Me as your source and your provision.”

We were faithful in telling God our needs, but it ended there. Pastor asked us to linger in God’s Spirit and open ourselves up to the wisdom of His Spirit. He encouraged us to give Him our time, to not rush off, but to listen to Him.

That moment immediately reminded me of the story of the ten lepers in Luke 17:11-19. Jesus encounters ten lepers on His way to Jerusalem. They knew who He was and the miracles He could perform. They cried out to Him as the Son of God to have mercy on them. And mercy was what He showed them. As Jesus instructed, they ran off to show themselves to the priests. As they ran, they were healed. It was a miracle! They showed the priests and returned to their old lives. All, but one. One leper returned before he did anything else. Verses 15-16 say “Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving Him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan.”

That is who I want to be. I want to be one who thanks and praises God with all that is in me. I want to have a thankful heart so gratitude is always my first response. I want my life to be worship for who He is, first — and for what He’s done, second.

It’s easy for me to thank God and move on to the next thing. It’s easy for me to just expect Him to meet my needs and forget to thank Him altogether. It’s easy for thankfulness to have no impact on my life at all.

That’s where the fight is. That’s where we die to our flesh and let the Holy Spirit live through us. May we continue to learn the ways of gratitude so we can easily resist the ways of this world.

Thankfulness is where God meets us.

If there is an area of your life where you are struggling to be thankful, I’d love to pray for you!

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

Nothing You Desire Can Compare With This

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Choose my instruction rather than silver,
and knowledge rather than pure gold.
For wisdom is far more valuable than rubies.
Nothing you desire can compare with it.
I, Wisdom, live together with good judgment.
I know where to discover knowledge and discernment.
All who fear the Lord will hate evil.
Therefore, I hate pride and arrogance,
corruption and perverse speech.
Common sense and success belong to me.
Insight and strength are mine.
Because of me, kings reign,
and rulers make just decrees.
Rulers lead with my help,
and nobles make righteous judgments.
I love all who love me.
Those who search will surely find me.
I have riches and honor,
as well as enduring wealth and justice.
My gifts are better than gold, even the purest gold,
my wages better than sterling silver!
I walk in righteousness,
in paths of justice.
Those who love me inherit wealth.
I will fill their treasuries.
Proverbs 8:10-21 NLT

We are always in need of wisdom — wisdom to say the right things at the right time, to do what is right on this side of history, to pause and stay quiet, to listen and consider.

We need wisdom to choose between what’s good and what’s best, to know how to walk with integrity in our workplaces, in our parenting, in our friendships.

We need wisdom to love others well, to treat others with kindness, to know how to live as Jesus did.

James 1:5 assures that if we ask God for wisdom, He will give it to us generously. And our Proverbs passage today tells us that with wisdom from God, we will gain discernment, good judgment, and knowledge — everything we are desperate for today.

As we seek to find truth and clarity, direction and vision at this halfway point of the year, let’s come before God and ask Him for the wisdom we need to navigate our lives and our world, to love ourselves and our neighbors well, and to “walk in righteousness and in paths of justice.”

God, thank You that those who search for You will find You. Thank You for loving us. Help us to love You back and love others like You do. Amen.

This One Thing Will Remain All the Days of Your Life

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I’ve spent much of the past twelve months as a patient at a psychiatric day hospital — a squat, rectangular building on the edge of a town just outside of London.

On my first day, I was terrified. Despite working in mental health awareness and advocacy for over a decade, stigma and fear hung around my mind like cobwebs. What would the other patients be like? What would the staff be like? Would I be locked in?

My fears were swiftly allayed when I was greeted by the kind-faced nurse I’d spoken to on the phone the day before.  She was gentle, guiding me through the surprisingly well-kept unit (a stark contrast to the run-down mental health offices I’ve been going to for nearly two decades).

I sat on the edge of the blue leather-like sofa, gazing around through unfocused eyes. How had it come to this, I wondered.

The other patients chatted as I jumped at every laugh or loud noise, unsure what to do with myself. Gingerly, I picked my journal out of my bag and began to write, my pen articulating thoughts my mind hadn’t even realised I was having.

I didn’t know then that this place and the staff in it would become a sanctuary. Back then, this psychiatric day hospital was like a distant planet. Now, it is closer to home than I could ever have imagined.

It has been my place of safety, and the staff have become as familiar to me as friends. They have seen me at my very worst . . . disassociated from the world, at the end of myself, and unable to stop my tears or thoughts from running faster than I could keep up with.

If these months have been a season of pruning, then my branches are bare. I have questioned everything in my life — even my very life itself — as mental illness seized the driving wheel and took with it my sanity. I am emerging, at the slowest pace, a different person… one who is officially disabled and unsure of what comes next.

Back in my teenage years, I learned that the language of lament was the only thing that could keep me connected to God in seasons like this. In those years, I could offer nothing but the rawest, most rage-filled thoughts. Now, I see that those, too, can be prayers.

For many months, I haven’t been able to muster raw or rage-filled thoughts. I have been wordless for the first (and I hope the last) time in my life. All I have been able to do is cry and pray that Romans 8:26 is true: “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”

I’m surprised my faith hasn’t been pruned away alongside everything else that has been lost. But the truth is, God has felt closer to me in my “not doing” than I could have imagined. I’m too anxious and overwhelmed for church, too weak for service, too tired to seek a redemption story amidst the wreckage.

And, yet, this belief has grown greater: I am beloved by God.

From the start, before I ever lifted a single finger, I was included in the creation of humanity that was called “very good.” All of the volunteering, and working for Christian organizations — none of it made me more loved. All my wide, empty days, the lacerating pain, the disability — none of it has made me less loved.

The same is true for you, too.

As a friend of mine says, we could lay down and never lift a finger again and remain as loved as we are in all our busyness and bustle. My branches may be bare . . . but, as I remain in Jesus’ love, I remain connected to the vine from whom all life flows. John 15:9 tells us, “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.”

I don’t know what comes next for me when I leave this place in which I have remembered and experienced the love of God so profoundly. I do not know what yet may grow and bloom, bear fruit. But I know that as I remain in Him, I remain loved . . . forever.

And, for now, that is enough.

What a Mental Health Drop-in Center Taught Me About Church

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I didn’t know there were people in there, inside this place with a sign that said “Flower Main” on Main Street. It was a flower shop without flowers. Although, I’d soon come to realize the flowers were really the people. Each day, I walked past this shop that looked empty until, one day, the Spirit told me to enter. He said, “I want you to start a Bible study there.”

“Inside a flower shop, Lord?”

But it wasn’t a flower shop. It was a mental health drop-in center.

The doorbell clanged when I entered. A man with a dark mullet and twinkling eyes told me I’d dropped something. I looked around for whatever I’d dropped and he began to laugh. Later I would learn he was seventy, though he looked fifty. He said I’d dropped my shadow.

There was a pool table, a few couches, a couple of TVs, and lots of light shining through the windows at the front of the store. It was the perfect place to grow flowers, I thought. The man with the mullet led me to the back where there was a large rectangular table with plastic chairs full of people who smiled and waved or simply stared at me. They were eating together in this place full of light, and a man named Stan* told me to sit down and eat, too, because it had been his turn to cook that day.

Slowly, I started a Bible study in that flower shop. . .

We began by the TV, all scrunched up on cushions and awkwardly singing as I strummed my guitar, Dan crooning at the top of his lungs and Geoff playing his banjo. Over time, we moved to the couches by the windows where the light streamed in as people walked by. Sometimes, Stephanie was there with her baseball cap and her red-painted nails. She would ask me to play “O Canada” and when we sang “Amazing Grace,” tears streamed down her face.

Occasionally, Tyler was there, too . . . when he wasn’t high. Often, he’d take a break in the middle of singing to go smoke a joint. Then, he’d return to listen as we played hymns and sang.

Tyler knew the gospel. He grew up in a home with a pastor for a father who beat him. Geoff knew it, too. He‘d always make jokes until, one day, I asked if they’d heard the story of Lazarus. When nobody responded, Geoff said quietly, “He didn’t come. He waited until Lazarus died.”

That’s when Geoff told us he could never enter a courthouse because, once, someone beat him so badly that now metal detectors go off because of the metal plates holding his body together.

I fit in here, with the once-addicts trying to get sober and the unseen longing to be seen. I don’t know about you, but I wish all churches were flower shops with windows letting light in and couches we could feel comfortable on.

One time, Tyler pulled me to the side and said he wanted to feel Jesus again . . . like how he used to feel Him at Bible camp when he was a kid. He said he’d been walking along the path at Bible camp and heard Someone laughing behind him. No one had been there, but he’d known it was the Holy Spirit and suddenly he’d begun laughing, too, and had kept on laughing for hours. He wanted that again.

I said, “Let’s pray,” because that’s all I know how to do. We prayed that Jesus would touch him in the same way again. That weekend, Tyler began to read the Gospel of John, and as he read, laughter welled up in him and he laughed for four hours straight. This twenty-year-old man who’d been beaten by his pastor-father, and whose brother had overdosed on a riverbank, sat there laughing with the joy of Jesus.

I keep going back. I can’t stay away from this church. Some days it’s hard. Some days the addictions seem to be winning. But we just keep on singing “Amazing Grace” and holding each other’s hands and praying for the light to take over the dark.

And it always does.

Friend, you’ve got a Jesus who wants to fill you so full that you’ll laugh for hours. You’ve got a Jesus who will put you back together after the world beats you apart. You’ve got a Jesus who loves when you sing off-key and who understands when you’ve had a bad day and who just wants to sit and have a meal with you.

Wherever you are, sister, whatever you’re going through, may the light take over the dark.

*All names have been changed to protect privacy.

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Your Mess Doesn’t Tell the Whole Story

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You know the book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, where one single event sets off a whole chain of events in the life of a little mouse and the boy who gave him the cookie? I feel that book on a soul level.

The other evening, I slipped out the front door to water my plants. I have just a few flowerpots on the front stoop and two hanging baskets of begonias. We’ve had a lot of rainy days lately, so I haven’t needed to water much, but this week held a stretch of dry days. So, I got my watering can and headed out into the dusky light.

While watering, I noticed the cobwebs stuck in the eave over my front door. I saw that the recent migration of cottonwood fluff had taken over the corners behind the antique milk can from my grandpa-in-law’s farm, the Red Wing Crock, and both lanterns that flank the front door.

Looking down at the front step décor brought my gaze to the sidewalk that leads us home, which is cracked and in need of a power wash.

Thinking about power washing the sidewalk reminded me of the weird splotches that appeared on the garage door, and I wondered if they could be power washed off or would have to be painted over.

Painting the garage door made me think of how badly our house needs a paint refresh, but really our siding just needs replaced. Decades of harsh Minnesota winters, blazing summers, spring hailstorms, and just general living have worn down those original boards and it’s beyond time for repair.

I sigh, knowing that’s just the outside of our home… just a snapshot of the billion unfinished tasks that catch me in the wee hours when I’m awake thinking of the endless to-do’s and wishing I was asleep. I’m the mouse but with a gross cookie, like one made with salt in place of sugar, and instead of crumbs I’m leaving behind a trail of tasks that never ends.

I’m not only thinking about the tasks and the fixes and the repairs, I’m thinking about what it looks like to gaze at them from the street or front lawn. Woodpecker holes and a driveway that needs resurfacing, and I wonder if people think we don’t care?

I wonder if it looks like we don’t miss the framed artwork that was never hung back up after we took them down for the holidays. I wonder if it looks intentional, as if we enjoy the peeling paint on the platform underneath the (waiting to be replaced) air conditioner. I wonder if guests perceive our ‘lived-in’ style (read: toys, sometimes dishes, always laundry lurking) as preferred.

I know that’s how things look from the outside. I know that the surface layer doesn’t tell the whole story; it’s always what’s on the inside that counts. But I still want the cobwebs swept and holes patched and laundry done, because I don’t want my mess to be the whole story.

Then a few of my favorite stories from Scripture float across my mind and I think of two women with messy lives who lived long, long ago, and the encounters they had with Jesus that changed everything.

Just then a woman who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak. She said to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed.” Jesus turned and saw her. “Take heart, daughter,” he said, “your faith has healed you.” And the woman was healed at that moment.
Matthew 9:20-22 NIV

Jesus, tired from the long walk, sat wearily beside the well about noontime. Soon a Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Please give me a drink.” He was alone at the time because his disciples had gone into the village to buy some food. The woman was surprised, for Jews refuse to have anything to do with Samaritans. She said to Jesus, “You are a Jew, and I am a Samaritan woman. Why are you asking me for a drink?” Jesus replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.”
John 4:5-30 NLT

Those women were not perceived well by anyone looking in off the street. Pushed aside by friends and family, right into the margins with their mess. Their circumstances are open to a side-eye glance from anyone walking by. Their lives were, quite probably, not what they’d intended to cultivate.

And yet, Jesus made it a point to meet them. To begin conversation and offer healing of all kinds. He knew what they cultivated in their hearts, even if it didn’t match their outward appearance and situations. He knew their mess didn’t tell their whole story.

I love those stories because they show exactly who Jesus is. He’s the one to stretch out a hand. The one to meet us exactly where and as we are. The one who goes first with empathy and care and kindness. The one who makes us feel so confidently loved that we can shed our fears and boldly proclaim that love.

I’m not even sure how to wrap this up; I certainly don’t have a neat bow or anything of the like. But I do know that after watering my flowers, I also swept the cobwebs out of the corners. I walked down the drive, collected the mail, and turned around to see the glowy lights of the garage highlighting my little house. I knew that waiting inside was my family, the dishes left sink-side from a favorite dinner, and books waiting to be read before bedtime. Music was playing and laughter was pouring out of the playroom. A culture we’ve cultivated and given thanks for, hard at work. Things we’ve done on purpose, despite the mess that it may appear to be from the sidewalk.

And I smiled, knowing God sees the real us no matter the mess of our home, hair, health, or circumstances.

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

When You Wonder If Your Pain Will Last Forever

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A few months ago I injured my knee. I moved a whole bunch of tables and chairs at work and, somewhere between reminders to myself to “lift with my legs, not with my back,” I twisted one of my knees.

It didn’t hurt right away, but once it did, the pain lasted for several weeks. Knee braces, ice packs, and ibuprofen became regular parts of my routine. I grew accustomed to hobbling from here to there and assuring anyone around that I’d catch up in a minute. I tried to be upbeat about it, determined not to inconvenience anyone or appear out of shape and middle-aged. But the truth is, I was hurting, both physically and emotionally.

The thing about physical pain is that it can easily become all-encompassing as it prevents us from going about our days the way we did before. As we make accommodations while simultaneously attempting to ease our discomfort, we can quickly forget what life was like before the pain began.

My twisted knee hurt, but it wasn’t serious. And I knew — or at least I was pretty sure — it wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, I would heal and my knee would be as good as new. But despite knowing this, I slipped into a gloomier outlook pretty fast.

Would my knee hurt forever?

Was I destined to limp and predict stormy weather from now on?

Do knee braces ever look cute? What if I got a purple one?

I’m not that old, but I’m not that young . . . have I entered my bad knees era?

When my knee didn’t grow stronger and my pain didn’t subside after a few weeks of babying it, I really did wonder if perhaps this was just how it would be from now on. I feared this new pain was permanent.

Have you ever felt that way?

Perhaps your pain wasn’t a twisted knee but a broken heart. Maybe you didn’t slip under the waters of a physical ache but an emotional or spiritual one, desperate for relief and increasingly afraid it would never come. Have you ever wondered if “this season” is just how things are now?

Knee pain aside, I’ve felt that way for a while. My family has faced serious struggles the past few years, and while nobody is in crisis today, I know it’s just a matter of time before I’m hit with another blowup or betrayal, another confession or confrontation that sends me back to my knees.

This season is challenging and the most honest voice in my head whispers, “What if it’s not a season?”

The reality is that what we hope is temporary sometimes sticks around forever. Sometimes, the thing we’re promised will get better never does. The pain cannot be healed and the broken thing cannot actually be put back together. Sometimes this is the way the story plays out — and the worst part is that we don’t know when this time is a “sometime.”

So what do we do when a season lasts too long, and we don’t know when it will end?

What I’ve learned as my particular season has dragged on (and on and on) is that we must look the uncertainty in the eye and acknowledge its part in our pain. As my counselor is forever advising me, we must feel our feelings. Denying that we don’t know when our difficult situation will end and stuffing ourselves with toxic positivity and empty promises only exacerbates the injury, whether it’s a physical one or something less tangible but no less painful.

Responding to our hard season (or, even worse, to someone else’s) with “It could be worse!” or “At least you have [fill in the blank]” are admonishments disguised as encouragement, adding insult to injury. We don’t need platitudes for our pain; we need compassion. And we need honesty. We need Lamentations. We need the sad Psalms. We need Jesus, who never once flinched in the face of suffering, even His own.

“I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me.”
Lamentations 3:19-20 NIV

My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long? . . . I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.
Psalm 6:3, 6-7 NIV

“Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Sit here while I pray.’ He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,’ he said to them.”
Mark 14:32-34 NIV

In these seasons that go on way too long, finding the courage and humility to ask for — and accept — help is also a must. We must grasp onto the hope of a God who promises to be with the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18) and remember that no matter our struggles, nothing can separate us from the love of God (Romans 8:38-39). But I suspect I’m not the only one who finds those things slightly easier to do than simply facing our pain and the uncertainty it brings.

So today, if you’re in a season that has gone on way past its expiration date, perhaps so long you’re tired of the word “season” altogether, I am here to sit with you and accept that this is hard. This is hard, and we don’t know what will come next. But we’re here together, and so is our Lord.

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

Faith, Love, Forgiveness

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Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.
I John 3:18 NIV

What I have come to know as a therapist (and human) is that one of the best ways, if not the best way, to connect with someone is to let them know you care by creating a “safe zone” for them. You do this by sitting and listening (without reprimand or judgment), not trying to correct, fix, or change them — just listening and letting them know they have been heard, understood, and seen. What this really involves is learning how to meet people where they are. Meet them in their greatest joy or deepest pain.

At times when words are elusive and you don’t know what to say, just acknowledge, “I don’t know what to say to you right now, but what I do know is that I want to be here for you.” When you are able to say that to another person, they immediately feel connected to you, understood by you, and safe; they don’t feel alone anymore. This fosters a sense of belonging . . . like family.

God has His own version of “meeting people where they are,” and it’s found in Romans 12:15 (NASB): “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” This extraordinary passage of Scripture implies that if there is reason to celebrate, then celebrate joyfully. And if there is reason for weeping, then weep and do so deeply. God is the Creator and Author of all emotions, which are meant to be felt and expressed both as individuals and together in community.

First John 3:18 reinforces this call to love one another fully. John writes, “Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth” (NIV). In modern-day language, another way of saying this verse might be: Love shows up! I experienced this on a very personal level not long ago, when my mother passed away. God’s own people were in fact the hands and feet of Jesus to me and my family in very practical ways. They met me where I was in my grief and supplied my needs, some of which I didn’t even know I had. And if they didn’t know what to say or do, they prayed or sent a gift card or brought my favorite coffee to me or delivered food or sent a text of encouragement. The list goes on and on because love shows up — in many ways and in different forms. It sacrifices for those it serves.

The more we look beyond ourselves, the closer we connect to others and to God. So the gift of serving is really a reflection of our love for God spilled out to others so they can see Him more clearly.

Devotion by Susan Goss, as published in the Faith, Love, Forgiveness Devotional Journal

It’s so easy to get caught up in things we can’t control, to get stuck in places we don’t want to be, and to listen to and believe messages that simply aren’t true. When around you the world is whirling and you don’t know what to grab onto, hold on to these three things: your faith in Jesus, His unconditional love for you, and the forgiveness He promises you. Experience all three with the new devotional journal Faith, Love, Forgiveness, by Susan Goss!

Susan Goss and Beth Moore grew up together in Northwest Arkansas, have stayed dear friends for decades, and now share their hearts for Faith, Love, and Forgiveness together in the Introduction:

“It is our hope that this devotional journal will help you focus on where you truly are in these three areas. How strong is your faith? Do you feel His love for you? Are you expressing His love to those around you? Are you forgiving yourself for the past? Are you accepting God’s mercy with an open heart?

One of the most wonderful things about God is . . . He doesn’t expect perfection. In fact, He knows it’s not possible. The two of us have not always gotten it right either. But it’s in those moments when we feel unsettled, like it’s all falling apart on us, that we have learned to turn to God. To have a heart-to-heart with Him. To ask Him to strengthen our faith, to fill us with His love, and to release us from the pain of unforgiveness. Maybe it’s time for you to have this type of honest conversation with your Creator.”

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 Susan about this very special new journal. They dive deep into forgiveness — what holds us back and how to move forward with Jesus. Don’t miss it!

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes on 6/30/24 at 11:59 pm central.

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

Creating Belonging in Our Busy Lives

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I’ve been thinking about my American Girl doll. Well, I’ve been thinking about what it would have been like to have an American Girl doll. The dolls in the catalog, with their accompanying accessories and historical fiction books, represented a world of belonging and adventure. While I never had a doll to call my own, I squealed each time the catalog boasting $100 dolls would land in our mailbox.

Those glossy pages held a world of wonder where I could belong.

While I might not have had a fancy doll, the immersive nature of the books (and the people having adventures within them) transported me. During my childhood summers, I’d lose myself in stacks of American Girl books from the library, journeying alongside Molly in her WWII-era adventures and Samantha in her Victorian drama. Each story was a portal to another world, another time.

I saw echoes of my experiences in each girl’s personality.

In books, I belonged.

I’m not the girl with sunburns and skinned knees reading books in a treehouse anymore, but belonging has been swirling in my thoughts again this summer. As a mom, I slice watermelon and clean up puddles left behind from melting popsicles, and I can’t help but wonder about the shape of the world and my place in it.

Belonging happens in places, yes (shout out to the public library), but the deepest part of belonging happens with people.

As much as I still enjoy immersing myself in a captivating book, I can’t help but yearn for the uncomplicated friendships of my childhood, too. Flourishing friendships as a child, teen, college student, and young adult seemed to happen overnight. But now, with four children (one of whom has significant disabilities), work deadlines, and various youth sports games cramming our calendars, making friends is a different story.

At a recent little league baseball game, I watched how (seemingly) effortlessly the other parents seemed to connect, laughing and chatting like old friends. I wondered, Am I the only one struggling to make these connections? Despite considering myself an extrovert, I’ve found that forging deep connections with others has become increasingly challenging as the years have ticked by. My family moved during the pandemic and now we lack the bonds many seem to share.

Surely, I haven’t been the only mom on the bleachers, wondering how everyone else knows each other.

The moments when I feel like I’m peering into the party instead of being part of it remind me of the power and importance of extending belonging to others. If I heed the call to do unto others as I want to be done to me, I have to remember that belonging isn’t just about being accepted but actively welcoming others into our circles. It’s about swinging the door open wide from the other side, too.

As temperatures rose and we settled into new summer schedules, my husband and I decided to get a pass to the local pool to get out of the house with the kids. As we plopped our towels on the chairs and sprayed sunscreen on small shoulders, we looked around at the little social bubbles. Once again, it seemed like everyone already knew each other!

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness, a sense of being outside looking in. But then, a friendly face recognized my son from school. She not only took time to introduce herself to us but also introduced our kids to other kids their ages. At that moment, I felt a glimmer of belonging, a sense of welcome.

Belonging can unfold in a book, a neighborhood pool, or a worn church pew.

And it all matters.

Cultivating belonging takes time and effort. It might not always look like getting the shiny, expensive doll, but like being tucked away in a treehouse with stacks of books for hours in the golden light of summer. It might not look like an immediate social circle, but like someone going out of their way to say hi and offer a few connections.

We often desire instant community, envisioning it as something immediate and seamless. But just as the books brought me a deeper sense of belonging than any plastic doll could have, our understanding of community often unfolds in ways we don’t expect but genuinely need.

It’s the long talks, the shared experiences, the gentle introductions that write our stories of belonging.

Whether you’re in a season of thriving community or hoping to find spaces where you belong, find comfort in the promise that the One who made you offers the most genuine kind of belonging. In Christ, we have the most profound, most innate sense of belonging. We are known and called beloved.

As Psalm 139:1-3 (NIV) says, “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.”

We can bring our whole selves – our dreams, our failures, our penchant for Colonial-era childhood fiction books – and we don’t have to explain a thing. We don’t have to worry about saying something wrong or being outsiders looking in.

While we might yearn for something we don’t have (hello, matching girl-and-doll historic outfit sets), we can rest in the deepest, truest sense of belonging because Jesus offers His whole self to us – and beckons us to do the same.

God knows us fully and completely. God genuinely enjoys being in our presence. Like being lost in a good book or an unexpectedly delightful conversation with friends, we can experience God’s deep, abiding love anytime, anywhere. This sense of belonging, this feeling of being known and loved, is what I strive for in my human relationships, and this divine belonging is what I find solace in when those relationships sometimes fall a little short.

In the family of God, there are no cliques (or bougie doll clubs). As Ephesians 2:19 (NIV) reminds us, “Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household.”

Jesus welcomes outsiders and those who wonder if they’ll ever find their people.

So, how do we cultivate belonging in our daily lives? How can we, with our busy schedules, foster deep connections and friendships? Here are a few strategies that have worked for me and might resonate with you, too:

  1. Look up: Whether at the park, at a community event, or in the church pew, take a moment to be present. Look up from your book (or phone) and engage with those around you.
  2. Say Hi: Don’t wait for others to come to you. Channel your brave inner child and be the one who says hello; introduce yourself and make the first move. (It’s often the first step that’s the hardest!)
  3. Invite: Whether it’s for coffee, a playdate, or a simple walk, extend an invitation. You might be surprised how many people are looking for connections just like you.
  4. Join: Participate in community activities, book clubs, or church groups. Being part of something larger than yourself can help build those meaningful connections.
  5. Show Up: Consistency matters. Keep showing up, even when it feels awkward. Over time, these small offerings of presence build a foundation for deeper relationships.

Belonging shifts and changes during different seasons of life, much like the unfolding stories in our favorite book series. Belonging is a tale worth living and sharing, chapter by chapter. It’s never too late to write a new story – your story.

Come to think of it, I might just join a summer book club. 

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

Why It’s Okay to Be a Doubting Thomas

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But Thomas (called “Twin”), one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples were telling him, “We’ve seen the Lord!”

But he said to them, “If I don’t see the mark of the nails in his hands, put my finger into the mark of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

A week later his disciples were indoors again, and Thomas was with them. Even though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”

Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and look at my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Don’t be faithless, but believe.”

 Thomas responded to him, “My Lord and my God!”

 Jesus said, “Because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.”
John 20:24-29 CSB

Years ago I was so certain about my faith. I could spit out answers to questions by mining a verse. I had ideas about what a “real” Christian looked like; based on behavior I felt like a reasonable judgment could be made regarding salvation. Never mind that Scripture teaches only God knows the heart of man (1 Kings 8:39). I may not have given voice to my thoughts, but my spirit sure was critical.

Somewhere along the way, questions began stirring in my mind, the kind that pushed against conventional teaching. I observed a disconnect between the values so many in the church were living (me included) and the way Jesus, His disciples, and the early church operated. Sunday school answers weren’t enough, and I realized I didn’t actually believe some of the things I had once professed.

I felt guilty — sinful — about my questions and doubts. My inner dialogue defeated me, but I didn’t feel like I had the freedom to question the status quo. That was heresy, right? Who was I to question?

And then the Lord spoke right to me through my pastor, a Sunday morning sermon that liberated my captive heart:

God isn’t offended by your doubts. You aren’t sinning if you ask questions. Questions and doubts might be evidence that God is wooing you, creating a path for you to know Him better (especially if you’re seeking Him for answers). God will exhaust any means to draw you to His side.

Instantly, I was released from a stronghold of guilt. My questions were the means by which God was calling me to a more intimate relationship with Him. There was a newfound freedom in my faith.

God didn’t want me to rely on the faith of anyone else — my husband, family, friends, or church leaders. To a degree, my faith was secondhand, an extension of the faith of others. He wanted me to know Him, personally and experientially.

This is one reason I love Thomas, a doubter and yet one of Jesus’ twelve apostles. I can identify with his need to see Jesus himself following the resurrection. He wasn’t content to rely on the testimony of others. He longed for first-hand faith.

Eight days after some of the disciples had seen the resurrected Christ return, He invited Thomas’ touch and urged him to believe. Thomas recognized Jesus for who He was and proclaimed Him as his Lord and God. Jesus revealed Himself to Thomas because He knew what Thomas needed.

Then Jesus did something incredible: He extended a blessing for those who believe, sight unseen. Yes, we can know Him through His Word, experience God in creation, and even see glimpses of Him in other believers, but the time to meet Him face to face hasn’t come . . . yet.

I can hardly wait.

Is yours a first-hand faith? Are you struggling with doubt and questions? Do you identify with Thomas and his need to experience Christ himself? I’d love for you to share how God has met you when you needed Him most!

This devotion was written by Robin Dance and first appeared on (in)courage here.

The Holy Spirit Can Meet You + Recipe for Spinach-Artichoke Strata

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“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.“
Romans 15:13 NIV

The truth is that there is not one day in all of the calendar that gives time and space enough for the vast nuances that come with being human. New Year’s Eve will always fold out and be forgotten. Independence Day will always remind us of the ways we are not yet fully free. Mother’s Day will not always bring the depth of rest that mothers crave, and Father’s Day will not always fulfill our hearts to feel the love of a father.

But the Holy Spirit can touch you — the Holy Spirit can reach deep into every hidden place you hold within your heart. The Holy Spirit can meet you in the chasms on the calendar — the gaping holes in which you are waiting to see and sense love show up on a day like today.

by Rachel Marie Kang, as featured in the (in)courage 2024 Agenda Planner

The mornings are cool, the days can be hot, and school is out for summer. If you find yourself hosting a gathering or brunch, or maybe you need a new meal to add to your menu planning rotation, we’ve got just the recipe for you! Invite friends over for brunch and serve this delicious Spinach-Artichoke Strata with a platter of croissants and a fresh pot of coffee. It’s the perfect way to spend a morning!

Scroll down for the recipe (courtesy of our friend Nancy), download a FREE printable recipe card, and read till the end to find the perfect serving pieces!

As you assemble this savory dish for a summer gathering or brunch, pause for a moment, ask the Holy Spirit to meet you right in the kitchen, and recall how truly loved you are by the One who created you and calls you Beloved Daughter.

Spinach-Artichoke Strata

Download the FREE recipe card here!

Prep Time: 20 minutes
Bake Time: 60 minutes
Makes 4-6 servings.

INGREDIENTS:

  • 5 cups cubed, crusty bread (cut into 1″ cubes)
  • 2 Tbsp. olive oil
  • 3/4 cup chopped onion
  • 3/4 cup chopped red bell pepper
  • 6 cups fresh baby spinach leaves
  • 1 (14-oz.) can quartered artichoke hearts, drained
  • 2 1/2 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese, divided
  • 5 large eggs
  • 1 1/2 cups milk
  • 1/2 tsp. salt

INSTRUCTIONS:

  1. Preheat oven to 350˚F. Grease a 2-quart baking dish; set aside.
  2. In a large skillet, heat oil over medium heat. Add chopped onion and red bell pepper; cook for 4 minutes. Add in the spinach leaves and cook another 3- 4 minutes, until spinach is wilted and onion and pepper are tender. Remove skillet from heat. Stir in artichokes; set aside.
  3. In a large bowl, add the cubed bread, the onion/spinach mixture from the skillet, and 2 cups of shredded cheese, tossing everything together well. Add this to your greased baking dish, spreading mixture evenly.
  4. In another bowl, beat the eggs, milk, and salt together. Pour this mixture over the bread mixture in the baking dish. Cover and refrigerate for at least an hour or overnight.
  5. Cover with foil and bake at 350˚F for 30 minutes, then uncover, sprinkle the top with the remaining 1/2 cup cheese, and bake uncovered 30 minutes longer, or until top is lightly browned and knife inserted in center comes out clean. Let cool for 10 minutes, then cut and serve.

To get the aesthetic Nancy created, use the Simply Elegant Baking Set. Serve cream and sugar in the Simply Elegant Sugar & Creamer set, and use the Grace & Gratitude Accent Plates to serve the strata. Finish the spread by setting out these Tea Towels as napkins, a table square, or a table runner, and you’re ready for a beautiful brunch!

Find these lovely pieces and more at Mary & Martha by DaySpring.

May you remember that “the Holy Spirit can touch you … can meet you in the chasms on the calendar — the gaping holes in which you are waiting to see and sense love show up on a day like today.”

The Goodness of the Lord in the Land of the 50+ Living

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I was born on Memorial Day, 50 years ago this past Memorial Day. ⁠

My birthday felt especially sweet this year because my husband and daughter threw me a party with my very favorite things: family + friends + drinks + country music + CAKE (!!!). It felt doubly special to have a party because, as every May baby knows, birthdays this month (like December birthdays) are often relegated to the corners of the schedule. Not because our families and friends don’t care about us. Rather, because when you have a birthday in May, it’s going to be shoehorned between All The Calendar Things. End-of-year school parties and award nights. Sports banquets. Band concerts. Graduation ceremonies. Last year, we moved my daughter into her summer school apartment on my birthday. The year before that, that same daughter graduated high school on my birthday.

So, it was fun to spend this year celebrating with loved ones and talking about life, eating delicious cake, and laughing till my sides split.

I don’t begrudge birthdays; I like to reflect on them and the years they represent. Because turning 50 feels especially momentous, I’m opening my journal to share some of what I’ve learned at this point in my life. If you’re near (or past!) the half-century mark, chime in with your own lessons and blessings found within this stage. If you’re younger, may you read and know there is much good to be had in the land of the 50+ living!

There is freedom in caring less, period.  I’m one who’s default is to care a lot, and overall I like that this quality makes me empathetic. But when caring a lot veers into ruminating on what other people think about me, I’m caring too much. At this point in my life, I don’t have much time or interest in guessing what people meant when they said this or did that — or worrying about what they thought of me when I said this or did that. In the words of my friend, Maria, “Don’t fear 50… it’s so liberating!”

Giving people the benefit of the doubt is a relational superpower. Giving people the benefit of the doubt gives life to all your relationships. Not giving the benefit of the doubt will strangle the life right out of them. While genuine relationship problems need to be addressed, being hard to offend will draw folks to you like a bee to honey.

Not everyone will like you. If you’re like me, you’ve spent a lot of time knowing this in your head but rejecting it in your heart. I used to think I could win over folks who were on the fence about me. But that just means I’m losing before I’ve started because if people are my people, they don’t need to be won over. They’re already with me. At 50 I actually appreciate that not everyone likes me because then I don’t need to worry about investing in those people. It’s a helpful limitation that points me to where my interpersonal efforts are wanted and appreciated. If Jesus was okay with not everyone liking Him, we can be okay with it, too.

Making friends at this stage of life is harder… and easier. As I get older, finding friends is harder because there’s less opportunity to rub shoulders with other women. However, I’ve found that it’s easier to keep friends I do make because we both have a more “laid back” nature that’s hard to offend. While there are exceptions to this, we generally give each other more breathing room, so we enjoy our friendships more. We ain’t here for the drama.

The Empty Nest years are different but good. I used to think that once the kids were out of the house, life wouldn’t shine and sparkle as it had when they were home. That’s simply not true. Of course, trials still find me in this stage of life, and I truly do miss the kids’ full-time presence under my roof. But the empty nest years have proven to bring their own blessings — a welcome surprise.

A well-placed “I’m sorry” covers many a mistake. I’ve made many mistakes in parenting my children, being a wife to my husband, and being a friend to others. I often wish I could go back in time to do a better job years ago and… yesterday. And yet I’ve found that a sincere apology forms a bridge from one person to another keeping relationships intact.

God is faithful, and Jesus is with us.  I’ve learned that while walking through difficulties, the Lord’s faithful presence is a comfort that I wouldn’t have experienced to the degree I did without the hardship. Of course, I would’ve loved to have avoided those hardships altogether. Yet, within the hardship there was no denying the powerful presence of Christ. Regarding Matthew 14:22-33 when Jesus walks on water during a storm toward a boat holding His disciples, Beth Moore writes, “Christ walked on water before He calmed the storm. …We want Christ to hurry and calm the storm. He wants us to find Him in the midst of it first.”  During hard seasons of my life, welcoming the presence of Jesus may not immediately calm each storm. But I am calmed within each storm.

If these are just a few of the lessons the Lord has been gracious to teach me in my first five decades, I can’t wait to see what the next 50 years hold. What a privilege it is to enjoy another year of life. As I look to the year ahead, taking time to reflect helps me better appreciate my many gifts — my people, my health, and my leftover birthday cake.

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

The Most Important Thing I Learned from My 84-year-old Neighbor

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I sit in my neighbor’s living room. Watercolor landscapes and abstract canvases with bold colors grace each wall, evidence of her love of art and former life as an artist. Knickknacks and artifacts from around the world adorn bookcases and side tables. I’ve heard the story of the native woman carved in shiny driftwood and the Eskimo etched in soapstone. But there are so many treasures that tell pieces of my aged friend’s treasured past, places she’s lived, people she’s known.

Though we’ve spent time together regularly for the past three years, I sense there are still countless layers to her story I do not know.

I’ve brought over cups of tea – chamomile with a little sugar for her, decaf vanilla chai for me – and flaky butter croissants. I enjoy watching her enjoy.

She tells me a story I’ve heard more than once, but I don’t mind. She’s my first true friend from the Silent Generation, and I know it’s a gift to have earned her trust. Even with some stories that loop on repeat, I learn something new every time we’re together.

But perhaps the greatest thing I’ve learned from her is resiliency.

My friend grew up in Germany during World War II and she endured terrible conditions and witnessed horrific things. And it birthed in her resiliency. After high school, she moved to a different country and had to learn a new language and navigate a new culture. Her resiliency grew. She married a man from another country and they built their life together on the euphoria of young love and the pain of prejudice for being a mixed-race couple. Her resiliency solidified further.

Later she became an engineer and was often the first woman in her company to ever hold that position, which made her the target of both admiration and sexism… and yes, she became more resilient. Years later her ability to endure and overcome served her well as she battled a rare cancer. Indeed, through chemo and surgery and radiation, she was resilient.

Now she shifts on her burgundy tweed sofa and I can tell her back is still hurting from a recent fall. But she smiles. I know if I ask how she’s feeling she’ll give me the same answer she always gives, “Everything’s hunky-dory. I can’t complain!”

But the truth is, she could complain. (We all could complain, and often do.) She could complain about being lonely and not running or painting or traveling like she used to. She could complain about missing family across the globe and never being able to have children of her own. She could complain about how our street hasn’t been repaved in more than a decade or how California taxes just keep going up.

Instead, I look at my neighbor, who has become a friend who feels more like family, and I see a woman with deep wrinkles and papery skin who has chosen gratitude over grumbling and resiliency over resentment.

Her life reminds me that I can choose this beautiful narrow path too.

“I say my prayers and thank God every day. Life is an adventure,” she tells me. “You’ll meet a lot of interesting people and you won’t believe where life will take you if you’re not afraid of a challenge. I never took the easy path, and I was always grateful.”  

Her eyes still twinkle beyond decades of great pain and sorrow, great joy and adventure.

I imagine Jesus sitting next to her on the textured couch, eyes twinkling too. I imagine Him beaming when she tells a story that tickles her memory and brings forth a school-girl laugh. I imagine Him bowing His head and tearing up when her mind flickers back to seasons of agony and heartbreak.

And I imagine Jesus leaning in close saying,

Yes, in all things my Father works for the good of those who love Him. (Romans 8:28)

Yes, daughters, do not grow weary or lose heart. I endured the cross so you can endure whatever you face. (Hebrews 12:1-3)

Yes, don’t give up! In me you will never be overcome or crushed. Affliction and persecution will come but in Me you’ll find unending joy and unconditional love. (2 Corinthians 4:7-18)

In my mind’s eye, I look at Jesus and I know He isn’t advocating for us to shove hard things under the rug or slap on a mask of false positivity. No, He’s offering us the truth:

When we rely on God all things really are possible – and our capacity for resiliency is just one example.

We can allow disappointment and bitterness to choke out our zest for life and trust in God. Or we can let life’s hurdles and hardships be like arrows pointing us deeper to the heart of Jesus.

We have a Savior who knows every manner of suffering… and is living truth and proof that difficulty and death are not how the story ends.

Consider this and feel free to share in the comments:

  • What would it look like to allow your suffering to increase your resiliency?
  • How might God want to use your resiliency to increase your joy and encourage others?

Listen to today’s article below or find the (in)courage podcast on your favorite platform.

Want to Know How She Does It? She Listens to the Holy Spirit

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I want to know how Elizabeth stayed in seclusion for five months when she was pregnant with John the Baptist. What prompted her to disappear that long? What empowered her to make a decision such as that?

I wonder how the widow with oil willingly let her sons go into the town, knocking on doors and asking neighbors, known and unknown, for empty jars. How did she find the faith to follow Elisha’s advice? How did she push past the grief of losing her husband and the simultaneous guilt of nearly losing her sons? How did she find that sudden surge of strength to sell jars and jars of oil and pay off her debt, though there was much to despair of?

And, was it surrender, or strategy, or the Spirit of God when Jochebed, mother of Moses, set her baby boy in a basket along the bank of the Nile, only to watch him be seen and soothed and saved by Pharaoh’s wife?

I want to know . . . have to know.

Because, when I skim through Scripture, I see story after story of what seems like women making definitive decisions in the middle of difficult dilemmas. I know, just as well as the next woman, that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to making courageous choices amid life’s complex circumstances.

What will I tell my sons, one week from today, when all of our boxes and belongings are packed up and stacked away in storage? How will I convince them that all will be well, even though the decision to move came from merely listening to a nudge?

A notion.

A knowing.

An inkling.

A feeling.

How do I tell my kids — and the curious, caring family and friends surrounding us — that we are stepping out in faith and risking rootedness, routines, and relationships for a good ending that isn’t even guaranteed?

I am between a rock and a hard place. Bills are begging. My marriage needs mending. The future for my family feels far and unsure. We need rest, we need a reset, we need restoration. Still, while I wait on God, I am moving forward in faith and trust. Daily, I am desperately seeking His guidance — but also? Best believe I am making decisions that feel right in my gut.

I am the widow with oil, unreservedly stepping into new skills. I am Elizabeth, unapologetically retracting and releasing the fear of my motives being misunderstood. I am Jochebed, torn over letting some beloved things and people go, and yet somehow still trusting in a promise I can’t yet see or say for certain.

Seven months ago, when the air was cold and frigid, my friend, Kate, preached an Advent sermon that arrested my attention and sank deep into my bones. Of the Annunciation, she preached about the moment just before Mary says, “I am the Lord’s servant… May your word to me be fulfilled” (Luke 1:38 NIV).

What comes in the moment just before Mary’s compliance, however, is a question: “How will this be,” asks Mary, “since I am a virgin?” (Luke 1:34 NIV).

Mary asks a quintessential question, one quite like our own — not simply a why, but rather a how. Not merely a want to know the probable, but a need to know the practical.

The answer to this question, and all of life’s how questions? My friend Kate says this: “It will always, still, ever and only be . . . the Holy Spirit.”

Want to know how Elizabeth did it? She was filled with the Holy Spirit. And the widow with oil? She listened to Elisha, a man of God filled with the Holy Spirit. I have to believe Jochebed was filled with the Holy Spirit because she had a supernatural power to really see and save her son.

Want to know the way you and I will know how in all we say and do?

It will always, still, ever and only be . . . the Holy Spirit.

Someday, a year from now, when I pull our boxes out of storage and settle into a new home, I will look back and remember how courage and clarity came when I chose to listen to the God-whispers stirring within my heart. I will remember how divinely God intervened in every desire, decision, and dilemma. A little nudge here, a messenger and a promise, or two, there. . .

There won’t always be a roadmap or guidebook giving all the right answers. There won’t be writing on the wall or a blueprint mapping out the intricate details of God’s plans and promises.

But . . . there will always, still, ever and only be the Holy Spirit. He, my dear friends, is how we will do every hard and holy thing.

Pray This Prayer:
Teach us how, Lord. Not simply how You’ll do it — but how we can and should. Teach us to listen to our hearts, Lord, where You humbly make Yourself at home. Teach us to listen to those nudges and notions. Those rooted knowings. Those fleeting feelings. Those inexplicable inklings. You are ever leading as we lean in and listen to You. Amen.

Friends — I’d love to hold space for any pressing situations or difficult decisions you’re currently facing. Comment below and share a little bit about what you’re going through — I’d love to encourage you.

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