God Remains With Us Through Every Hard and Holy Moment

God Remains With Us Through Every Hard and Holy Moment

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There was a thick, burnt orange line painted across the hospital tiles.

That line, that final threshold, is the point of separation where parents part from their children as the nurses wheel their beds into the operating room. I found myself grasping for ways to ground myself as my feet pivoted. The wall was blue. The sign above was red. My daughter, my daughter. Orange. Orange. Orange.

It was a battle to stay in my body without collapsing; to force my feet to go in the opposite direction, away from that place of departure. As I lifted my gaze from the floor, I almost lost it again. Because the processional of beds accompanied by parents and nurses stretched several children back. The child right behind my daughter couldn’t have been more than a month old, his chest rising and falling. I noticed his parent’s countenance matching my own and, after briefly observing the families similarly lined up behind ours, I couldn’t help but see this shared journey as a parade of sorts.  

When families go through medical traumas, there is often not so much a crisis of faith as there is a crisis of theology. What is true about God now? How do I even pray? How is it possible that God is good while my child or parent or friend is suffering?

I am a caregiving mother to four medically fragile kids, and I am a seminary student training to be a hospital chaplain. Over the years, I’ve tried it all. I’ve wrestled, wailed, and wept until I didn’t have any more tears. I say all of this to say that there is not a pretty sounding, logical answer to any of these questions. Suffering — the effects of sin in the world and amongst creation — throws a wrench in our surface-level ideal of what faith is supposed to be and who God is to those who suffer.  

Still, the image seared into my mind — of the parade of children rolling down the hallway — not only painted a poignant trinitarian picture: a suffering child, their loving parent, and the comforting nurse that wouldn’t leave the child’s side, but also an eschatological one. Jesus’ teachings in Mark 9-10 — in which He foretells his own suffering and pronounces a grand reversal — are centered on welcoming children.

But many who are first will be last, and last, first.
Mark 10:31 NASB

And when I think about Jesus’ words, in Matthew 25, that set the stage for this promised, future grand reversal, I can’t help but ponder how such a gathering of all the nations could likely include a royal processional that isn’t led by the powerful or influential . . . but by the last and least. A parade that elevates these medically vulnerable children to their rightful place of honor, prominence, and belonging with the King, a sure contrast to that place of pain that lay on the other side of the orange line.  

God’s heart and purpose is for the vulnerable. God champions their flourishing and belonging. The totality of scripture is a testament to this. And when I, along with so many other families, am navigating medical traumas in real time — sifting through what is real and what isn’t, what is true about God and what isn’t — I know that God’s love for those who suffer is good news.

God’s love for the vulnerable is good news to the vulnerable.  

While my faith may oscillate and waver, God’s faithfulness doesn’t. God is faithful to be who He says He is. God’s love is faithful. While this world gravitates towards either exploiting suffering image bearers, ostracizing them, or avoiding them entirely, Jesus not only promises to honor them fully — affirming their dignity and belonging in advance — but He aligns Himself with those who suffer, over and over.  

If God-with-us is who God is, and God-with-us-in-suffering is who God is, then I don’t need a fluffy answer, or a proof-texted verse ripped out of context. The person and work of Jesus is enough, with or without answers. With or with out faith that is any larger than a mustard seed.  

In those long hours while my daughter was in the operating room, I prayed in the hospital garden. I let creation remind me the truth about our Creator. I marveled at the trumpet-shaped yellow flowers and the way the dew glistened on long blades of grass. I can’t explain it, but God was with me. His peace was ever-present.

I know He was with my daughter, too. God remains with us through every hard and holy moment, offering comfort and carrying us through. And while many might say that the absence of suffering is more desirable than the presence of God in the midst of suffering, I have to disagree.

In suffering, God reveals the secret places of His heart to the people who need Him most. It is a treasure to allow ourselves to be comforted by a loving God who promises goodness and doesn’t leave us.

There is no orange line with God. No point of separation. And, one day, all of the orange lines — all separation, all suffering — will be gone forever.  

When Your Heart Says No But Your Mouth Says Yes

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I speed-walked down the hallway at church, late for a steering committee meeting for our church moms group.

And that’s when the gal caught me in her crosshairs and asked me for the sixth or seventh time,

“Hey Kristen, did you decide if you’d like to join the Bible study I’m hosting next month?”

I wanted to be annoyed at her persistence, but in all fairness, she’d asked for the sixth or seventh time because I’d told her five or six times I’d think about it. I pondered her phrasing… like to join the Bible study? Well, yes, I’d definitely like to. The problem was that my schedule already bulged at the seams. Like a bookshelf crammed with books, I knew I didn’t have room to shoehorn one more thing onto it.

At the same time, I knew this gal wanted more folks to join her study. Another thought snaked through my mind: Kristen, you should be doing Bible study, so you should fit it into your schedule. 

Finally, my inner critic won out. I answered with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, “Oh yeah… sure! Count me in!”

After she relayed the details, I told her I looked forward to seeing her there. Then, I headed toward my meeting, taking note of my slower gait and slumped shoulders.

That was a year my husband traveled so much that he was gone more than home. With three young children and several volunteer responsibilities, I knew  I’d made the wrong decision about the Bible study.

My slumped shoulders and continual hesitation that followed my yes to joining were the outward signs of what the Holy Spirit spoke to me on the inside: Kristen, ignore that wretched inner critic and listen to Me. My direction lightens loads, hence why You know this should be a no.

Yet, while my heart said no, my mouth said yes.

I’ve always loved Matthew 5:37 that says, “But let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No.’” In context, this verse is one where Jesus instructs us to not swear falsely or to say we’re going to do something and then not do it. My three adult kids would tell you that in their growing-up years, they heard this verse a thousand times. When a brother, for example, promises early in the day to play with his sister and then tries to get out of it later in the day, he’s behaving as if his yes is really a no.   

I certainly want to follow through on what I say I’m going to do for others. But I also realized that regarding this Bible study, I was behaving like my no was a yes. I appreciate it when other people interact honestly with me regarding what they are and aren’t able to do, so why wouldn’t I do the same with myself, for myself?

I knew exactly why. In this case, a yes eased my uncomfortable feelings about not wanting to disappoint the host.

Not long ago, my pastor’s wife, Karen, said, “Jesus disappointed people.” Her words tasted like crisp, cool relief as the reality of that statement settled in my heart. You see, if I rack ‘n stack all the reasons why I struggle to say no, the fact that I hate disappointing people would be at the tippy top of the list. I didn’t want to disappoint the kind woman leading that Bible study then, and I’ve hated disappointing (or the idea of disappointing) a hundred women since. And yet, the reality is that if Jesus disappointed people, which He certainly did, then lowly Kristen will disappoint people, too.

I needed to be comfortable with the idea that disappointing people is not only unavoidable, it’s often the right yes. It’s not a sign that the one doing the disappointing is wrong. If I’m doing what the Holy Spirit genuinely calls me to do, then it’s important to walk that decision through, come what may.

A yes to one thing always means a no to something else. In this case, my yes to the study would cause me extra stress, which in turn would cause my family to pay the price for my extra stress. Since I had committed to participating in rather than leading the study, I felt like I had permission to change my mind. That’s not always possible, but here it was.

A couple of days later, I found the woman hosting the study and told her, “I’m so sorry, but I won’t be able to participate in your group Bible study after all. I would love to, but after considering my schedule more closely, I just don’t have the bandwidth for it right now. I sure apologize that I didn’t come to this realization sooner.”

She was disappointed, but she understood and said it was no problem. I exhaled, noticing how my shoulders relaxed.

In the words of my friend, Kim, a no hurts a little when it’s given, but the wrong yes hurts a lot more later. So, we say no to good things in one season to say yes to best things.

Whether a yes or a no, I’m learning there is strength and peace in letting my heart and mouth say the same thing for the benefit of following God’s will…

…and not disappointing myself.

Listen to today’s podcast episode below or on your favorite player. 

It’s Okay to Embrace Your Weird

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When I was a little girl, my favorite thing to hear was that I was weird. Whether the words came affectionately from the lips of my mom or as a critical observation from the kid across the street, I didn’t care. “You’re so weird” made me beam — because I was weird.

I was a girl who happily (and confidently) marched to the beat of my own unrhythmic drum.

When I was seven years old, the year was 1989, and neon green biker shorts with a black polka dot skirt with a fluorescent pink tank top was my favorite outfit. But I took the typical bright 80’s color scheme to my own Becky level. I was sure to complement my outfit with my beloved canvas dinosaur sneakers that I got in the boys’ section. The shoes had boring white laces that didn’t meet my high fashion standards so I swapped them out for primary red ones. Good call.

Add to this charming ensemble the fact that I convinced my older sister to braid my hair in three sections and then crimp my bangs, and weird was probably the word that came to everyone’s mind.

At the tender age of seven, I had yet to grow a self-conscious bone. I was just me. Tree-climbing, alphabet-burping, puzzle-solving, book-loving, roller-blading Becky. And I was hungry for affirmation of what I knew was true — that I was perfectly, wonderfully, and weirdly made.

Gosh, I was a great kid.

Decades later, I’m still great, but somewhere between then and now the compliments I desired most shifted. Somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting to be seen for exactly me, and I started striving to please others.

Instead of weird, I wanted to be beautiful. Instead of being unique, I wanted to be accepted, influential, admired, and successful. I started caring about others liking me more than I cared about liking myself.

And even deeper than that, I started forgetting who God says I am and tried to cram myself into a mold that wasn’t made for me.

Have you done this too?

It’s natural for our childhood selves to mature into adolescents with greater self-awareness and then into adults with age-appropriate inhibitions. But that doesn’t mean shoving down, casting out, or numbing over the parts of ourselves that make us stand out for the sake of blending in or receiving positive recognition.

If you’re a dreamer, don’t cram yourself into the box of an analytical thinker.
If you’re loud, don’t let the world stifle your voice.
If you’re vibrant, don’t dull your edges.
If you’re intellectual or artsy or stoic or outdoorsy, don’t let an outside voice tell you that another personality or strength is more valuable and attractive.

The amazing thing about God is that He doesn’t make mistakes. Your shyness is on purpose. Your love for a good debate is intentional. Your fast talking or slow processing is not a mistake.

Do we each have areas where we need to grow? Absolutely! We are all on a journey of being refined and becoming more like Christ. But, friend, learning to love and look more like Jesus doesn’t negate the essential beauty of who you already are.

One of my favorite quotes is credited to Saint Irenaeus, a 2nd-century Greek bishop, who said, “The glory of God is man fully alive.”

God receives glory when we’re living from the fullness of who He’s made us to be. 

Have you ever known someone who just sparkles? Who shines from the inside out, not because of something they did but because of Who is in them? The Creator gets the glory when His creation reflects His intentional design.

For it was you who created my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I will praise you because I have been remarkably and wondrously made.
Your works are wondrous, and I know this very well.
Psalm 139:13-14 CSB

You are God’s remarkable creation. If this truth has slipped through the cracks of time, let me be the one to remind you:

Sister, the way God made you is wondrous! You are distinct. Set apart. A one-of-a-kind masterpiece!

What would happen if you lived like it?

These days I’m re-learning to let the bright and bold confidence of my youth reemerge. I wear the vibrant turquoise tennis shoes that clash with most outfits. I make up silly songs and sing them off-key in the kitchen with my kids. I stay quiet when people expect me to speak. I keep writing about Jesus even if it’s not the popular thing.

I think it’s okay that I no longer want to be known as weird. Instead, I just want to be known as loved.

You are so loved.

Yes, that’s the greatest truth we could orient our lives to. When we walk with the assurance that we are God’s beloved daughters — holy and chosen and wonderfully made — we can be confident marching to whatever beat He gives us.

This devotion originally appeared on (in)courage here.

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

Maybe It’s Time to Try Again

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I flip-flopped for weeks about whether to sign up for Bible study. Not because of the teacher or the content, but rather, for the first time in decades of living sold out, over-the-top committed to the local church body and all it stands for… I’ve become cynical.

I’m over church. I’m over attending on Sundays. I’m over the apathetic actions I witness from Christ-followers. My apathy comes out in deep swirling emotions in ways I’ve not expected.

I’ve been hurt by a lack of authentic community, hurt by leadership choices, hurt by not feeling heard.

I lay awake replaying hastily made decisions. In the morning, I tell my hubby, “I don’t want to go to church today. I’ll watch it online.” He doesn’t agree, but he understands. He goes without me.

I am at a crossroads.

I’ve heard it said, “How we think and feel about the church reveals how much we know the heart of Christ.” I believe in the beauty and majesty of the Church: Christ’s Bride. I’ve witnessed the Holy Spirit convict and renew my soul through pastors who faithfully execute an inherent interpretation of Scripture. I’ve seen first-hand men and women once spiritually dead now resurrected to newness in Life through Christ by gathering together in community — but it’s been a long time since I’ve viewed corporate worship as a glimpse of Christ’s heavenly gathering on earth.

It’s hard to keep showing up.

Why do I? I’m tired.

Tired of varying opinions. Tired of disagreements, and tired of watching friends leave. There are definite seasons to withdraw and heal from the establishment of a church, but for how long?

One decision to stay home can quickly become a habit. In a culture that’s become increasingly individualistic, so has our spirituality. Many have gotten out of the habit of meeting together and they don’t miss it. Would I? I hope so. It’s a slippery slope and the enemy prowls. He celebrates when believers isolate and forget the wonder of God’s grace found in a biblically healthy church.

Lord, I beg you to renew my heart. Reinvigorate my passion for Your Bride.

…

That was a private journal entry I wrote four years ago amidst a long, honest struggle of staying put when I wanted to go, of digging deeper roots when I wanted to unearth it all.

But I’m grateful to say that in the middle of the wrestling, I kept showing up. 

I’m sure many of you resonate with the angst I’ve experienced. I’m sorry it’s so hard. I’m sorry the wounds are so real. Maybe you still haven’t gone back to church. You love Jesus, but maybe the scars feel fresh or the local church doesn’t hold the fervor it once did.

Here’s what I want you to know: You don’t have to do it alone.

A friend, raw and wounded, recently texted me. “I want to give church a try again, but I can’t do it alone. Will you sit with me?”

She chose the hard because she understood that regardless of her complicated experience, there is goodness and purpose in meeting together. The Gospels show us of how the disciples “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship” and spent time “attending the temple together” (Acts 2:42, 46 ESV).

When the Holy Spirit swept through in the Book of Acts, people converted AND they joined a church/gathering/assembly. God’s Spirit and His gathered people occurred in tandem. I don’t think the early church was thinking about personal convenience or comfortable choices. 

Throughout Scripture, we witness the non-negotiable command to hold fast to the Bride of Christ and gather together for corporate worship. It doesn’t specify meeting in a particular building but affirms the necessity of consistent gatherings where we’re nourished spiritually and offered shepherding care alongside accountability.

I’ve lived through lonely seasons when that didn’t occur, but I’m encouraged and challenged now in the slow beauty of staying, of watching and waiting while the Lord brings life-changing regeneration to the lives of our members.

There’s a vast difference between being tethered to the Body of Christ vs. being someone who periodically visits a church building.

In this spirit, I bore my heart to our wonderful, new pastor:

“I’ve prayed for years that the Lord would release me from ‘church’ and while there are seasons for leaving, He is calling me to stay. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but as long as I am a member here, I’m choosing to use my gifts as a connector, not a complainer.”

I wanted my pastor to know that I recognize how easy it is to be someone who sits, spews, and stirs the pot. But instead, I choose to come alongside and serve. 

Hebrews 10:23-25 (NIV) is clear.

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds,  not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”

 Will you join me in holding unswervingly to the hope we profess?

For those who are able, let’s try church this week, knowing that while the choice is challenging, His Spirit dwells, sustains, and empowers us, especially where two or more are gathered.

Let’s assemble together next Sunday, knowing that while we hold complicated feelings about church, the Spirit frees us to worship in joy because of the gospel.

If you are feeling stirred to try church again, remember that you’re not alone. 

If you leave a comment, I’d love to pray for you. 

Listen to today’s article below or on your favorite podcast app. 

What to Say to Those Who Are Waiting

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DaySpring’s new book, What To Say When You Don’t Know What to Say, is a guide for navigating serious moments with clear, compassionate communication.

There are times when life’s challenges can make us speechless. But that doesn’t mean we should stay silent — especially when we’re in a position to offer life-giving words. This useful guide provides helpful tips and words to share when readers aren’t quite sure what to say. It draws on Scripture to offer compassionate, biblical communication prompts to strengthen relationships —  and readers can impart words of truth and peace to give hope where, and when, it’s needed. Take a peek at an excerpt:

What to Say to Those Who Are Waiting

It’s like a four-letter word in our culture. WAIT seems almost synonymous with inefficiency and frustration, combusting into either anger or fear. Nothing feels more uncomfortable or unproductive than the span of time that exists between where we are and what we desire, whether it’s as small as waiting in line for your turn at a ride in Disney World or as significant as waiting to meet the right person to marry.

Every time we wait, we find ourselves in a wilderness of sorts.

We don’t know what is going to happen and when or if life will turn the way we want it to go. The vulnerability moves us to want, even demand, motion of some kind —  any kind — to ensure that our souls won’t be staying in the land of waiting for long.

But God has a history of leading His people into the wilderness: Think of Abraham, Joseph, Moses, David, Jesus. It’s in the waiting, even the wandering, that our hearts get tested and refined like gold in a furnace. When we turn to Him in it, another word emerges in our hearts: TRUST.

In the waiting, our faith grows stronger as we discover that God is present with us. His presence not only forges His patience in us, but we also learn to live at peace with Him in the process of faith’s refining fires.

I say, “The Lord is my portion, therefore I will put my hope in him. The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the person who seeks him. It is good to wait quietly for salvation from the lord.”
Lamentations 3:24–26 CSB

LIFE-GIVING WORDS FOR THOSE WHO ARE WAITING

I am certain that I will see the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the Lord.
PSALM 27:13–14 CSB

You can be certain of this: God has good planned for you today, tomorrow, and forever. Just wait and see!

We wait for the Lord; He is our help and shield. For our hearts rejoice in Him because we trust in His holy name.
PSALM 33:20–21 CSB

You not only have a powerful Helper, but He is shielding you from harm even as you wait on Him. He will deliver you at just the right time!

I wait for the Lord; I wait and put my hope in His word. I wait for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning—more than watchmen for the morning.
PSALM 130:5–6 CSB

As certain as the sun rises, God will come to the rescue. Keep your eyes focused on Him!

—

What to Say When You Don’t Know What to Say is a resource book for all believers to begin thinking and then speaking like Jesus — by starting with His Word. It is designed to help us find the firm foundation of comfort and encouragement God gives throughout the Scriptures, then translate those truths into relatable words of affirmation so we can speak plainly and purposefully into others’ lives when the moment arises without sounding cliché or superficial. But these words of life are simply a starting point.

As we pray for His anointing, God’s Spirit will speak through us with the kind of supernatural power, truth, and love that sets His people free.

We know you’ll turn to this book again and again for support in your hard conversations. Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN one of 5 copies*!

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

 

*Giveaway open until 4/26/24 at 11:59 pm central to US addresses only.

God Will Meet Us in the Muchness

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The hunter-green box sat tucked among books in the antique store, a mystery hiding in plain sight. One word on the spine caught my eye: puzzle.

As an author and a voracious reader, I’m naturally drawn to the book section of any store, my neck bent as I peruse the selection. But I’m also a puzzle person. Every Christmas, Mom and I try to beat our personal record of puzzles completed. Movies play in the background while we sort, organize, and put the pictures together. We have it down to a science at this point, starting and finishing fourteen 500-1,000 piece puzzles over the last holiday break.

It’s no wonder the green box called my name. Designed to look like a hardback book sitting on a shelf, the “front page” opened to reveal puzzle pieces. Immediately, I was intrigued. But when I read the back of the box, like its own book description, I was sold.

See, this puzzle included 500 pieces and an envelope with a clue . . . but no picture of what would be the finished design.

Challenge accepted, I said to myself before walking toward the cash register.

Let’s see how this goes, I thought as I later dumped the pieces onto my kitchen table.

There were a few moments of frustration, a couple of exasperated “What in the world is going on here?” questions, and eventually “Oh! I see!” exclamations. Two hours later, I stood back and admired the completed scene.

What didn’t make sense at the moment was crystal clear at the end.

I’m writing this just days after Easter, and it’s easy to see the metaphor hiding in plain sight. Still, the memory of the mystery puzzle startled me with its timing. Holy Week, the days stretching from Palm Sunday to Easter, hold the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. In my personal life, this week holds tender and difficult memories. This time last year, I began a post titled For When You’re (Still) Waiting on a Miracle with these words: Easter has passed and I’m still waiting for resurrection.

I’m still waiting, still watching, still hoping.

I’m still learning to rejoice in the ruins and sing in the shadows.

“Where is Jesus in these days?” I wondered again this year. Where is Jesus in the A Lot and the Too Much, the hosanna and the how can it be, the deep betrayal and the bewildering silence and the sustaining joy? Goodness is always here because Emmanuel, God With Us, promises to never leave, and so I decided to look closely, trusting God would be faithful to meet me in the “muchness” of this week.

It wasn’t until I began sitting in the beautifully specific details of Holy Week and writing out what became an email series titled “Here, in the week of it all” that I realized in some small way I was gathering puzzle pieces, examining each one while anticipating the final picture.

Every day, I opened the Gospels and read the account of what happened that particular day, each one like a chapter in a larger story, a puzzle piece that doesn’t make much sense on its own and yet fits perfectly in the completed picture. I wrote a week of devotions, tying in what I learned from my trips to Israel with Scripture and songs to sit with in our weeping and hoping, our waiting and wondering . . . and then the mystery puzzle came to mind, the final picture and daily devotion taking me by surprise.

In many ways, we know how the story ends. God goes back to a garden, Jesus doesn’t run, and Love stays on the cross. Resurrection comes with the morning and Friday becomes Good. But in our own stories, during the terrible Fridays and confusing Saturdays of our own lives, when we know the last page of the story yet have no idea what tomorrow will bring, it’s this truth that brings comfort:

“I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say, ‘My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.’”
Isaiah 46:10 NIV

God knows the end from the beginning, and no matter what or how much our days hold, He will hold us. Nothing – no thing – will take Him by surprise. There’s no such thing as “too much” for God, and He will be faithful to meet us in the muchness of our days.

I titled the final piece of the series “For All of Us” because the Good News isn’t just for each of us… it’s for all of us, every single piece of us. Come as you are, the cross beckons. Bring your sadness and confusion, your worries and fears. Bring your broken heart and your anger, your wild hope and your “Lord I believe, help my unbelief.”

One day, we’ll look back and see how every single piece had a purpose. The finished picture will be stunning. But for now, here in the days of puzzle pieces that don’t yet make sense, we wait. We watch. We hope. And we trust that the One who sees the end from the beginning will meet us in the muchness.

Our days may hold a lot, 500 pieces of This, That, and The Other… but somehow, mysteriously and miraculously, God holds us.

If the puzzle piece you’re holding today is one of sadness or confusion, Day One of the “Here, in the week of it all” series was written with you in mind. Click here to read For The Ones Who Are Weeping. My hope is that it will offer encouragement right in the middle of the muchness.

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

Doing This Might Make You Forget God

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“When the Lord your God brings you into the land he swore to your ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that he would give you — a land with large and beautiful cities that you did not build, houses full of every good thing that you did not fill them with, cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant — and when you eat and are satisfied, be careful not to forget the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the place of slavery.”
Deuteronomy 6:10-12 CSB

As the Israelites were preparing to enter the promised land, God was preparing their hearts to not forget Him. God reminded His people of His long track record of miraculous faithfulness and assured them that His generosity and provision would continue.

But . . . God also offered a warning.

“Be careful not to forget the Lord.”

God knows that human hearts can easily become so satisfied with the gifts that we forget the Giver.

Yes, the Israelites would enjoy occupying safe cities and beautiful homes, having access to water and a variety of delicious foods. These blessings would be an intense contrast to their forty years of living in tents in the wilderness, constantly moving, and being sustained on manna alone. But be careful, God said. Don’t forget Me. I’m the One who made your freedom and flourishing possible. The One you still need — in times of plenty and in times of want.

Sister, accept God’s gentle warning today. Is there an area of your life where you’ve become so focused on the gift that you’ve forgotten the Giver?

Take time today to remember what God has done in your life. Thank Him. And recommit to living dependent on Him.

 

Something NEW! Recipe for BLT Roll-Ups

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See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland.
Isaiah 43:19 NIV

Spring is truly in the air, and it reminds us of one of our favorite verses. This passage from Isaiah brings to mind pictures of burbling streams, a path to follow in the driest of deserts, and God making all things new. New weather, new milestones, and new menus to see us through the start of a new season.

There’s something about a good old BLT (bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich) that just says spring. And while they’re always a crowd-pleaser, they can be tricky to make ahead and serve fresh when company comes.

Well, our friend Nancy has just the ticket to making these best-loved sandwiches crowd-friendly… and with a twist! With a recipe from The Living Table by Abby Turner, here are those fan favorites turned into easy-to-make-ahead roll-ups! Yeah! There’s even a special ingredient that adds a new twist for spring and takes these roll-ups to the next level. Make a platter full for your next gathering – and read till the end to find the perfect serving pieces!

Scroll down for the recipe and download a FREE printable recipe card! And as you assemble these for a picnic, a gathering, or a sideline dinner during sports practice, take a breath and a moment to remember the newness of life that God brings us in the spring. . . and with every new morning.

BLT Roll-Ups

Download the FREE recipe card here!

Prep Time: 30 minutes
Cook Time: none
Makes 8-10 servings.

INGREDIENTS:

  • 6 spinach tortillas
  • 2 Tablespoons mayonnaise
  • 1 head lettuce
  • 12 strawberries, sliced
  • 6 slices deli turkey
  • 8 slices bacon, cooked

INSTRUCTIONS:

  1. Lay out the spinach tortillas on a flat surface.
  2. Spread mayo first, then lettuce, strawberries, turkey, and 2 pieces of bacon.
  3. Roll the tortilla tight. Pro Tip: Spreading enough mayo is crucial to getting the tortilla to stay wrapped tight.
  4. Place in the freezer for 10 minutes to set.
  5. Remove the tortillas from the freezer, cut off the ends, and then cut them into 1/2-inch-wide rounds.

NOTE: Recipe from The Living Table, by Abby Turner.

To get the beautiful look pictured here, use the Table Talk Pizza & Flatbread Board and line it with the Table Talk Wax Paper Liners. Set out the Simply Elegant Sugar & Creamer Set so you’ll be ready to offer a post-roll-up cup of coffee! And the Celebration Melamine Serving Bowl comes in handy for serving additional items such as fruit or chips. Find these beautiful pieces and more at Mary & Martha by DaySpring.

May any time you spend in the kitchen and around the table be time to commune with Jesus, experience His love, and share it with others.

For the Love of Learning

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I didn’t expect how hard it would be. Sure, thirty years had passed since I last sat in a college class. And, of course, I knew graduate school wasn’t a walk in the park. I expected it to be a challenge; I looked forward to it even. And I’d been waiting decades for the opportunity to be just right.

But then the first day of seminary arrived. And with it, overwhelm and panic.

For the love, you’re 52 years old. What in the world are you doing?! 

The weight of doing something new, difficult, and full of unknowns fell on me like a ton of bricks. My longtime dream turned into a hard reality fast.

What were you thinking? All this time and money, and it’s probably going to be a total waste. 

It took all my will to go to class that day and not tuck tail and run the other way. I still didn’t feel confident. I felt old, washed up, in over my head. But I faked it as best I could and showed up anyway, mostly because my fear of quitting outweighed my fear of failing (barely). Before I knew it, I’d survived my first three-hour class. Then a second. I still questioned my decision now and again. But, sooner than I expected, I fell into a groove and woke up one day experiencing an entirely new feeling:

Anticipation. And joyful delight.

It’s now been three months, and I’m nearly finished with the first semester of my Master’s Degree. Grad school isn’t easy, I was right about that. And I still have days when I struggle to juggle my limitations and responsibilities, including health challenges, a career, family, and my teenagers’ homework as well as my own. But almost daily I whisper a prayer of thanks that fear and self-doubt didn’t rob me of a new experience.  

Why? Because in pushing against the discomfort and allowing myself to be stretched, I am learning. And I am growing. Just as a flower bulb must push through the discomfort of the hard earth to burst forth in colorful glory, I know today’s hard work will eventually result in tomorrow’s blooming — my blooming. And although the process isn’t comfortable, the result will make it more than worth it.

This causes me to pause and consider: How often do you and I choose today’s comfort at the cost of tomorrow’s growth? How often do we miss out on the color of new insights, new relationships, and new spiritual growth simply because we prefer the dormancy of the status quo?

It is so easy for us to slip into complacency. And yet, comfort isn’t always the haven we think it is. Sometimes it is a tomb.

A bulb that stays entombed too long in the ground eventually withers. So do we. When we start avoiding difficult circumstances, new adventures, challenging circumstances, and difficult people and conversations, we end up stunting the growth God desires for us. As a result, we miss out on our spring.

“Show me your ways, Lord,
teach me your paths.
Guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God my Savior,
and my hope is in you all day long.

He guides the humble in what is right
and teaches them his way.”
Psalm 25:4-5, 9 NIV

I wonder: What is the price of our addiction to personal comfort? What beautiful blooms are we missing because fear is keeping our world small? And how is our growth (emotionally, physically, spiritually) being stunted by our resistance to anything that feels uncomfortable?

Consider this: Where could your life use a little more blooming? What discomfort do you need to push against to discover the color of a fresh spring?

Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to go to graduate school. This isn’t about degrees, job promotions, or even taking a once-in-a-lifetime trip. This is about you and I embracing the posture of a student and learning that discomfort, even while we don’t always like it, is often an excellent teacher.

Let’s you and I choose to have the heart of a student no matter our classroom. All it requires? Humility. And a desire for wisdom.

Today, let’s lean into learning. Rather than walk the long way around today’s discomfort, let’s choose to stay present to it. To welcome the stretching and growing and refining as part of the miracle learning.

Before you know it, you’ll be blooming.

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

Help When Social Media Makes You Compare

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I’m scrolling through social media and I find myself repeating one phrase, “Look what she did!”

I say this as I see women doing good things — leading, creating, connecting, accomplishing, achieving dreams. It doesn’t take long until another phrase follows, “I should be doing that too!”

I slip into comparison like a too-tight pair of jeans that squeezes in all the wrong places. I feel the pinch of inadequacy, the tug of guilt, the familiar sensation that I am not enough. I don’t feel good in this state of mind. It doesn’t fit me. It doesn’t bring out the best in who God created me to be. But I keep comparison in my mental closet, reluctant to let it go for reasons I can’t explain. Have you ever done the same?

This time, I pause and pray, “God, help me have a different perspective.” In the silence, it seems a gentle, compassionate question comes to my anxious heart. Why are you looking at those posts and saying, “Look at what she did!” instead of “Look at what God is doing!”

Wow, I had never thought of it that way before.

I think of my own story, and how I am where I am today because God brought me here. HE opened doors I never could. HE gave me gifts I could use to serve others. HE called me and equipped me every step of the way. I’ve been asked many times, “How did you get to where you are right now?” I always respond, “I didn’t do this — God brought me here.” Why has it never occurred to me to think of the stories of other women in the same way?

We live in a culture that tells us more is better. The size of something is a measure of its success. Influence equals significance. But when I look at the Kingdom of God, I don’t see the same thing. Instead, I see a God who values love and faithfulness, and who invites us each into an intimate adventure with Him for a lifetime.

I recently reread the parable of the master who goes on a journey and entrusts resources to his servants while he is away. Most of us are familiar with what the master says to the servant given five talents who earns five more. “Well done, good and faithful servant! You were faithful over a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Share your master’s joy.” (Matthew 25:21 CSB). But these words actually appear twice in the same chapter. When the servant with two talents earns two more, the master says that exact same thing to him.

The master doesn’t say, “Good job, but you didn’t do quite as well as this other servant.”

He doesn’t complain, “If you had just tried a little harder, maybe you could have done more.”

He doesn’t declare, “You should have accomplished as much as someone else.”

No, the master says again, “Well done, good and faithful servant! You were faithful over a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Share your master’s joy.” (Matthew 25:23 CSB).

Why? Because we serve a God who cares more about the quality of our faithfulness with what He’s given us than the quantity of our accomplishments. He isn’t asking us to do as much as we possibly can; He is asking us to say “yes” to what He asks us to do with what He’s entrusted to us. He isn’t looking for more people to have big platforms; He is searching for humble hearts willing to do little things with great love. God is not comparing us to anyone else, He is always and only inviting us to become more like Jesus.

It is a myth, lie, and joy stealer to say, “If I could just do better in some way, then I could be where she is today.”

The truth is, that God has a plan, purpose, and story for each of us that is entirely different. We can trust, even when it’s mysterious, that we don’t need to do better because we already have His best for us.

We no longer have to say, “Look what she did!”

Instead, we can say, “Look what God is doing — in her life and mine!”

Sometimes comparison and anxiety come from unresolved hurt in our lives, especially in our relationships. If that sounds like you, then Holley’s newest course, Heal After You’re Hurt, is here to help! Use code “incourage” to get 25% off for a limited time! Learn more here.

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

For When You’re Exhausted and Coffee Can’t Take the Tired Away

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I came to coffee by way of tea.

My mother is a tea drinker, always stirring in her honey and lemon. Then there’s the part of my story where I worked in a tea store, and learned to tell customers about the various health benefits of tea — how black tea is good for heart health and how white tea is rich in antioxidants.

I learned about pu’er tea, which is good for digestion . . . and how yerba-maté is a worthy substitute for coffee. I learned that green tea should be steeped at 140°F – 185°F for three minutes, while herbal teas, like chamomile, peppermint, or African rooibos, should be steeped at 212°F for four minutes.

I love tea and forever will love tea. I’ll take it any way I can get it – loose tea, in sachets and bags. I’ll take it steeped and served in ceramic mugs, porcelain tea cups, even disposable cups.

Still, there is a part of me that’s come to really appreciate a good cup of coffee. The fascination started when I was a young adult visiting Großhansdorf, Germany. Upon waking each morning, I welcomed the day with a spread of boiled eggs, fruit, and freshly baked bread, served alongside ghee and honey and jam. This is when and where I began drinking bold black coffee.

It started slowly, beginning with breakfast . . . and then led toward taking a cup of coffee at lunch and even at dinner. After my time in Germany, I drank coffee any way and any time I could have it. Iced caramel lattes first thing in the morning. Black cups of coffee just before bedtime.

Turns out, my coffee drinking came just in time to serve me well as a college student who wore tiredness like a trophy. I’d pull all-nighters to finish my assignments and then count on coffee to carry me through my exhaustion. But, I noticed a pattern beginning to take form — instead of drinking coffee because it delighted me, I started drinking coffee simply because it excited my body.

Flash forward to this current season. I’ve found myself, once again, counting on coffee to carry me through my days. I’m in the thick of motherhood (raising two boys, ages 6 and 3), working a combination of jobs that keep me clocked in full-time, all the while managing a chronic illness that conveniently has “fatigue” listed as the number one symptom.

If I’m honest, the truth is it’s not just caffeine and coffee that I find myself turning to — it’s also the suggestive ads that tell me to try this product and that. It’s the bath salts and the ionized water. The smoothies from Whole Foods. The books and self-care creams — every little thing that promises to make me better, stronger, and healthier calls to me.

Less tired. More energized.
Less exhausted. More rested.
Less depleted. More revitalized.

I know that I am not the only one who is strained and stressed, tired, and always running out of time. I know I’m not the only one who is bone-tired — waking with bags under the eyes, swigging endless cups of coffee while daily doing the deep work of bearing the burdens that come with being and breathing in this broken world.

We are worn out. We are tapped. We are tired of and from watching the news and waiting for God to usher in salvation and solutions. We are holding our collective breath, barely awake and hardly aware of our need for rest — true rest.

In the quiet moments, when I sit in silence long enough to let the truth be loud, I can hear the holy whisper. And maybe you do, too?

I need Christ more than I need coffee.

In the morning when we rise, and in the evening when we lay our heavy bodies, burdened and all. When we’re tested, tired, and tried. When work piles up. When bills pile up. When dishes pile up. When piles pile up.

Always, we need Christ more than coffee — more than the next anti-aging cream or ergonomic pillow that promises to take away the tired.

On this side of heaven, there will always be toys to pick up and toil and tasks. Like tried travelers — in search of somewhere to put up our sandals — we will go about our days waiting, until kingdom come, for true rest to come.

Until then, may God’s eternal truth echo throughout our bodies, however bone-tired they may be.

It is Christ who takes the tired away — wipes our tears and bares our heavy burdens. He is our rest, every moment with Him a reprieve for our weary souls.

For, in His presence is peace and quiet, calm and hush; in His Word is hope and purpose and inspiration and strength.

In Him, we have everything we need to make it through the endless loop of our demanding days.

In Him, may we rest . . . and live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28).

Amen.

To listen to today’s devotion, click the player below or search “(in)courage podcast” on your favorite pod streaming app!

You’ll find our daily devotions Mon-Fri and bonus interviews on the weekend!

Gifts and Talents Need to Be Tended Over Time

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Every week my mom serpentined through Chicago traffic during rush hour to get me to piano lessons on time. I could not be late. Dr. Whang was strict, but with good intentions. She desired for her students to be the best they could be. With her subtle but firm tone, she taught us that precision and practice were paramount for progressing pianists. 

In the early years of piano, I was required to practice 30 minutes a day. I stumbled through scales and struggled to follow the metronome that helped me keep time. Competence was born out of repetition. But through the years, I began to look forward to this daily date with the ebony and ivory keys. My practice sessions extended longer as the pieces grew harder. The music moved through my fingers and settled my soul. 

My mama was from a blue-collar family that couldn’t afford piano lessons when she longed for them as a child. She often listened from the kitchen while I practiced. She was chopping onions and swirling ruby red sauce in the pot, while my fingers danced over the keys.

Mama told me over and over — sometimes with tears brimming in her eyes — how much my practicing and performing blessed her. She believed I had God-given musical talent and wanted me to have every opportunity to pursue it. 

Dr. Whang believed in me too. She challenged me with concertos and inspired me with symphonies. She even supported me beyond my lessons. One time she took the train from downtown to come see me sing as Liesl in “The Sound of Music” at my high school. 

I ended up taking piano for nine years — performing in recitals, winning local contests, and playing special numbers at church. I discovered that God grants us gifts and talents that need to be tended over time. We don’t just wake up one day as a concert pianist. Playing a musical instrument requires practice, patience, and plenty of perseverance. 

The apostle Paul gives us perspective about perseverance in his letter to the church in Collossae: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving” (‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3‬:‭23‬-‭24 NIV‬).

Paul was helping to reframe our efforts. Everything we practice or work at presents an opportunity to serve God wholeheartedly. We can look beyond the expectations of earthly masters and measures of success. 

Maybe you’ve never played an instrument, but you have practiced a sport or rehearsed for a play or concocted a new recipe. Maybe you feel frustrated or forlorn because that book you wrote was rejected or you weren’t chosen for the part. He gives us gifts and talents to grow. We don’t start with a perfect product or a pristine performance. Gifts and talents take time to bloom.

My new kids book, Kailani’s Gift, echoes this same message. Kailani needs to have the courage to try something new. Even though she doesn’t master it right away, Kailani perseveres. The tinikling dance is challenging, but it is also rewarding when she can offer it as a gift to her grandparents. We all might be clumsy with new things at first, but if we push through the awkwardness and have fun, we can bless others with what we have learned.

I wrote the first draft of Kailani’s Gift more than a decade ago. The manuscript was rejected and praised throughout the years. I consider it a sweet gift that my girl will finally grace bookshelves. Despite years of discouraging setbacks, the time is now.

The good news about gifts and talents is God takes the same posture as my mama did about my piano playing. He is proud of us whether we are stumbling through practice or performing on a stage. He does not require perfection. God cares more about the orientation of our hearts. 

We are called to use our talents and passions to bless those in our community for His glory.

Peter illuminates this: “Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms” (1 Peter 4:10 NIV). In this way, we offer our gifts back to the Giver. 

Now my 15-year-old daughter plays keys for the school worship band. She helps lead music with her team in chapel service every couple of weeks. My heart swells as I listen to her practice late at night and play with the student band. She writes lyrics and composes songs that carry us through our grief. Her creative gift of music blesses my mama heart in much the same way I had the opportunity to bless my mama years ago. 

—

Dorina Gilmore-Young is the award-winning author of a new picture book, Kailani’s Gift, which is a celebration of family, Filipino heritage, and dance that showcases the value of patience, perseverance, and blessing others with your gifts and talents. As Kailani watches her siblings practice a traditional Filipino dance for their grandparent’s anniversary party, she longs to join them. But keeping up with the rhythm and hopping in time with the beats of the tinikling is much harder than Kailani imagined! With Daddy’s help, Kailani practices the motions of the dance step by step. But will she be able to learn the tinikling in time to surprise her Lolo and Lola? Illustrator Lynnor Bontigao’s work pairs exquisitely with Dorina’s storytelling to celebrate Filipino culture and traditions.

Get 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 Dorina about cultivating our God-given talents and the beauty of learning about other cultures. Don’t miss it!

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

 

*Giveaway open until 4/21/24 at 11:59 pm central to US addresses only.

The Years Give as Much as They Take

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Last month, I celebrated a birthday. I always anticipate my birthday far enough in advance that when it arrives, it doesn’t feel like such a big deal. Turning thirty wrecked me, but forty and fifty, not so much. I’m discovering age is not what it seems from a distance and what you see in the mirror may not reflect what you feel inside (cue George Strait singing “Troubadour”).

Because the births of our eight children spread across nineteen years, we still have children at home, whereas my mother had been an empty nester for at least fifteen years at my age. This is a sobering age… my mother passed away when she was three months younger than I am now.

I’m keenly aware that time is a gift I shouldn’t squander.

And I have to keep reminding myself of that… when my children want to use my age against me, as if it’s something I could control or deny. When my hormones go haywire and the number on the scale hurtles head first in the wrong direction. Or when I just want to scream, “This isn’t what I signed up for!”

Though my body is changing, in my mind I’m the same person as I’ve always been, just viewing the world through hopefully wiser eyes.

Last year our youngest daughter graduated from our homeschool, which in essence was a graduation for me too. After thirty years as a homeschooling mom, I’ve shed the guilt about pursuing my own interests. For years, I spent spring Saturdays (and many weeknights) watching my children’s track meets or ball games—and loved it! But at this moment, instead of sitting on cold bleachers or racing back and forth between shot put, discus, and the track, trying not to miss any of my children’s events, I’m in my PJs writing at 8:30 in the morning on the first Saturday of spring. It’s pretty glorious.

My time is mostly my own, and I’m using it in ways that wouldn’t have been possible or practical before.

Our children are older and independent and therefore don’t require as much oversight or chauffeuring, so my husband and I have more free time to reconnect in this sweet season of life. For years, we used part of our Sunday evening date nights to plan how we’d tackle that week’s activities. Now we spend more time at the movies, binge-watching Netflix, or just sitting in the same room reading. Every night is a potential date night.

In addition to more freedom with my time in this second half of life, I realize that with time comes experience. I can speak to women about things I’ve studied (like essential oils from a biblical perspective) and things I’ve experienced (like marriage and friendships that have endured for decades). After teaching my children and students in our Classical Conversations program subjects I love, like literature and art history, I can lead tutor training to equip others to do the same. I can empathize with a woman who’s miscarried a child, relate to the mom of a troubled teen, and reassure the woman whose child says she hates her that someday their relationship can not only heal but flourish.

For the first time, I’m writing fiction. I thought it would be fun to invent imaginary people and places after writing two research-heavy nonfiction books (and it is!). Yet it’s my own, personal experience and life lessons that have helped me develop the characters in my book. Years of writing for you lovely (in)courage readers have trained me to take a story and dig down to its deeper meaning. Those are my favorite passages to read in fiction (the ones I highlight or underline on my Kindle) and they’re satisfying to write too.

The passage of time creates opportunities to share what we know, equip others, and explore new things, even as it takes away our ability, need, or desire for other things. (My body won’t let me play softball like I did in high school (oh, how I miss it), but I can enjoy sharing tips with my daughter’s boyfriend who is playing for the first time in a league with fellow firefighters.)

The Lord wants us to learn from our experiences so we can teach and comfort others the way He has taught and consoled us over the years.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-6 ESV

The next time you’re overwhelmed by your current circumstances, spend time with a woman who’s been there and can give you her long-range perspective.

And the next time you worry you’re getting older and are no longer able (or no longer have) to do the things you used to, appreciate the depth of your knowledge and experience and look for ways to share the things you’ve learned — and God’s grace and mercy — with others.

 

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

 

 

Hope For When Life Doesn’t Add Up

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You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good.
He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people.
Genesis 50:20 NLT

As I dumped the puzzle pieces on the table, I challenged our pre-teen daughter to sort and assemble the 100-piece puzzle without the box top picture.

With purpose stirred, she started, then stopped. Started, then stopped. What should have been an easy task, resulted in mounted frustration due to her lack of clarity.

“Mom, I can’t begin to put this puzzle together. It’s way too hard, and I need some kind of a guide.”

I let those words stew a bit before I responded.

“It’s hard to attempt something so confusing without guidance, isn’t it?” I questioned. “Putting together a puzzle without the picture is like us trying to fix life’s problems without considering God’s blueprint for our life. Our relationships, our friendships, and our families are all pieces of God’s master puzzle, but it’s critical we use the Bible as our box top to best navigate those difficult times. Often His picture takes time to unfold. We want to give up. The waiting is a challenge. So when it feels too hard, we need to just work on a few ‘pieces’ at a time. ”

While this simple, teachable moment was meant for our daughter, conviction hit home.

Life gets messy and the waiting hurts.

Often I rush ahead without seeking God first because I’m quick to attempt fixes on my own. I get frustrated when I don’t know how His plan will unfold, yet I don’t take the time to seek out His master box top.

My mind raced to Joseph and his brothers: the utter betrayal at the hands of those he loved most. How Joseph must have questioned God’s purpose during his waiting time in slavery and wondered how these seemingly horrible pieces could ever fit together for good.

Instead of harboring bitterness, Joseph believed in the sovereignty of God’s plan, even though he didn’t know the final outcome.

Often, God’s plan doesn’t come together on our timetable. We can’t pull back the veil and see the full extent of God’s work in our lives because His beautiful picture has not been revealed.

Yet one truth we cling to: God’s purpose and plan for us is good because God is good. All the time, God is good.

Are there puzzle pieces in your life that don’t seem to fit God’s perfect plan?

Work one piece at a time, cling to His goodness, and rest in His sovereignty.

Today’s devotion is by Jen Schmidt and originally appeared here on (in)courage.

 

With Only His Voice, Jesus Whispers Peace Over the Storm

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The Mediterranean Sea and the horizon blend in a blurry line, as if God took his finger and smudged the paint across the width of the paper. The moon is still visible from the beach this morning, full and round. The air is cool and the water is calm.

The night before, I dreamed I was lost at sea. The sky and water were both black, and the rumblings of an ominous storm brewed above. Drenched, cold, and left alone, I waited and waited, my feet frantically treading in the deep, dark water. I wondered how I had gotten there and if I’d ever be rescued.

The moon is slowly fading into the sky now as the sun rises. In a little while, my daughter will come running down the wooden boardwalk, wearing her favorite Minnie Mouse swimsuit and a white sun hat. My husband will be walking behind her while pushing a stroller overflowing with beach towels and floaties. He’ll challenge her to a race to the water’s edge, and they’ll both shout and sprint across the sand.

I’m drawn to the ocean’s power, mystery, and beauty but also frightened by those same reasons.

In my early twenties, I had no idea of the journey God would have in store for me in the years to come. I was beckoned into unfamiliar waves — across an actual ocean — and into a foreign country, holding nothing but a one-way ticket. This cross-cultural move was supposed to be an adventurous placeholder while I figured out what I really wanted to do with my life. But then I met a cute and funny boy, and we got married and started a family here. Days stretched into months and now years as my family waits for the necessary visas and paperwork to be processed and approved so the three of us can move to my home country.

Braided with homesickness and all the moments I’ve missed out on is the uncertainty of my family’s future. The longing for a life beyond here floats just out of reach like tiny boats on the horizon. Unanswered prayers for hope, healing, and things to be made right slosh and crash around me in the small hours of the night.

A few hundred miles south of where we play by the shore, there once was a group of experienced fishermen who set sail with Jesus on the Sea of Galilee. A violent storm suddenly arose, threatening to capsize their boat. The disciples panicked as the once-calm waters became turbulent and the waves crashed around them.

During the raging storm, Jesus remained asleep, seemingly undisturbed by what was happening. The disciples, desperate and terrified, woke Him up and pled for help. “Teacher,” they cried, “do you not care if we drown?” (Mark 4:38 NIV). 

Coming up from the stern, Jesus calmly rebuked the wind and water, commanding them to be still. At the sound of His voice, the storm immediately dissolved, the waves receded, and the wind quieted.

When treading deep waters in the middle of a storm, things can quickly turn to look dark and uncertain. The churning waves of grief, illness, betrayal, or brokenness can threaten to pull us under. My prayer in this long, turbulent season of feeling lost at sea sounds a lot like the disciples: Hey, Jesus, I’m drowning out here. Do you not care?

I watch my husband float in the water while my daughter and I fill plastic buckets with wet sand on the beach. The waves lap lazily against our outstretched legs, and the sun beams on our shoulders. I savor the gentleness of a morning that has yet to hold the stress and uncertainty of life and all that’s in it.

I know the deep waters of unfulfilled dreams don’t feel like a fun day at the beach. The swirling waves of broken relationships don’t feel like a morning of building sand castles. The raging storms of unanswered prayers don’t feel like a leisurely swim in the salty sea.

Jesus, do you not care?

I wish I had been given a tidier story, one with calm waters and warm breezes. But my family continues to endure the choppy waters of uncertainty, rowing toward a foggy and unknown future. The storm is still raging, and the boat keeps swaying. 

Jesus knew the storm was coming before he and the disciples got on the boat that day. He knew how they would react to the sudden storm. And yet, He went with them. 

Likewise, the Son of God knows what rogue waves life will throw our way. He knows how our faith will feel like a trembling flicker in the middle of a hurricane. But Jesus, who climbs into the boat and sits down next to us, is sovereign and in control. With only His voice, Jesus whispers peace over the storm.

I pray for my faith to be like a lighthouse, firmly rooted in solid ground and illuminating the path ahead. I will keep going through the storm, knowing I’m not alone . . . because I’m anchored by the One who cares.

 

If at First You Don’t Succeed, When Should You Try, Try Again?

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Maybe the fourth time would be a charm. I sure hoped so. Even though I was determined, I wasn’t sure I could take another disappointment. Was this the God-given “desire of my heart” spoken of in Psalm 37, or simply me pursuing something I wanted in my own strength?

I had been feeling a tug to return to a traditional nine-to-five job for a while. Now that my children were grown, my world had become too quiet. I craved more structure, interaction, and variety than weekly Bible study, volunteering, and church could provide. I also felt called to move beyond my comfortable Christian bubble.

It all felt so very “Prayer of Jabez.” Are you familiar? Years ago, Bruce Wilkenson popularized the Old Testament prayer found in 1 Chronicles 4:10 (NKJV) in his little book The Prayer of Jabez: Breaking Through to the Blessed Life:

“Oh, that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory, that Your hand would be with me, and that You would keep me from evil, that I may not cause pain!”

The verse ends by revealing how God answered Jabez’s audacious prayer: “So God granted him what he requested.”

Would God grant me what I requested? While all of the prayer’s petitions were relevant, the idea of “enlarging my territory” stood out. I longed to live out the gospel by serving others in meaningful ways.

I wanted to go back to work.

Friends and family thought I was crazy to give up the freedom and flexibility I enjoyed as a writer. Most of them had retirement on their minds, not launching a new career. Even my husband didn’t fully understand, thinking my desire was more about filling time and getting out of the house than God calling me to something different.

I listened to them and questioned myself. Would anyone see the value of a 50-something woman who hadn’t worked in a traditional job in decades? How do you communicate everything you do as a writer – content creation, speaking, marketing, networking – on a simple resume? Would my previous part-time marketing roles showcase my true drive and entrepreneurial spirit enough? Would my leadership qualities required in women’s ministry and volunteerism count for anything in today’s market?

Because I knew the application process was a breeding ground for self-doubt, I started reminding myself of my identity in Christ. I’ve learned that when life gets hard, it’s important to remember who you are because of who Jesus is and what He has done and will do.

As daughters of God, we are

We should never forget God is always and only for us, but there’s an enemy who’s always and only against us. (Romans 8:31)

Shored up spiritually, I updated my resume and started slinging spaghetti at the wall. Since the last full-time job I held – and absolutely loved – was at a retirement community, that was my target. Never mind it was 28 years ago.

To my surprise, the first application was a swing and a hit. The hiring manager and I had a great connection, and I got an offer. The money was great. But the work/life balance was awful. I cried before turning it down.

On my second attempt, I dropped off my resume in person, thinking it would demonstrate initiative and impress the marketing director. I thought wrong. Following an awkward conversation, I received an email rejection three days later.

I cried again.

The third job at a fancy new community got me really excited. A phone interview led to several in-person interviews. I was certain the job was mine…until days with no offer turned into weeks. When I finally got the call, they had chosen the other remaining candidate.

I cried yet again.

My children were in the loop, and I think they hurt more than me when things didn’t work out. I had always taught them, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again,” and here was a chance for me to demonstrate that very lesson.

I believed God had given me this desire, so I had to keep trying. If we can trust God with open doors, we can trust the ones that close.

Months later, the place I had applied to in person and received a swift rejection, re-posted the same position. Among all the communities I had considered, it was my first choice. I applied again. This time, I was invited to interview.

Driving onto their campus, feeling more vulnerable than ever, I prayed. If this strong and specific desire wasn’t of the Lord, I begged Him to take it away.

The short of an already-long (but amazing) God-story is this: I got the job!

Over the past three years, I’ve encountered the most wonderful people and helped dozens of seniors understand their options and make hard but important decisions that serve them well.

Like Jabez, God blessed me and granted what I requested (I’m convinced He gave me the desire in the first place).

When have you experienced a strong desire despite opposition or failure? What might God want you to know about who you are in Him? (Go back and read my short list of how God sees you as His daughter — or open your Bible and find His love for you all over Scripture.)

Talk to God about your desires. And perhaps it’s time to try, try again.

 

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