Why It’s Okay to Be a Doubting Thomas

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.

At Last Your Love Has Come Along

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My husband has never been the most romantic of men and he knows it. But all I know is that after our first date of thin crust pizza and an animated movie, I involuntarily started singing At Last by Etta James as I walked towards my car at the end of the night.

If you know the rest of the lyrics, you remember that Etta serenades us with the revelation that her love has come along. But how could that be happening for me after one date — and if I’m being honest — after avoiding the guy I’d initially embarrassed when he first asked me out three years before? How could love be coming along for us when we came from totally different spheres, educational backgrounds, ethnic origins, and definitely different countries?

As the single pastor on staff at a large church, I was often teased that my husband would come rowing from a far-off way, since apparently he couldn’t be found in the congregation or community of Huntsville, Alabama. I guess they were right in a way since he stepped off a plane from Iceland in 2002 and worked himself so deeply into the community that he found home and became a home for many. It is that sense of belonging and safety I felt when I was around him. It is what drew me and romanced me because he was joyful and passionate and steady… and everything I needed.

All these layers of difference and belonging, of culture and home, ebb and flow within the pages of my debut novel, Her Part to Play. The main characters, Adanne and John, couldn’t be more unalike, and I haven’t even started on the initial dislike that permeates their first meeting. Yet, a new thing starts to spring forth for the both of them — something unexpected, yet longed for. 

“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

I recall the times I bemoaned what seemed to be seasons of wilderness and wasteland, not even considering that the desires of my heart could spring up from those places. But isn’t that the way of our Lord? We may have been wandering or thirsting for so long that the breakthrough we’re waiting for seems to come out of nowhere and yet is exactly what we need. A longed-for surprise, a severing of old ways to make way for the uncomfortable, yet comforting new.

Adanne is a hometown girl from a small town in Alabama, rooted in her family’s culture and legacy. What does she have to do with this Hollywood actor filming his next movie — and revamping his dwindling career — in her beloved Hope Springs? John is everything she doesn’t want and her town is the last place he wants to be. Yet, perhaps what they need may be closer than they know, revealing their core desires for safety, authenticity, and home. Adanne and John discover much of this and more throughout their story and in the intricacies of their interactions.

“I guess it’s time to film my part before I look for someone to play this part.” 

John waved the phone at her before stashing it in his back pocket. 

Adanne folded the cape and held it to her chest. 

“Well, if I see someone eligible around here, I’ll be sure to send her your way. Maybe . . .” Her words were tentative, as if offering a wobbly olive branch with her coming suggestion. “Maybe what you need is a small-town woman who isn’t caught up in all the glitz and glamour.” 

Adanne carefully placed the cape on the empty chair in front of her, wiping imaginary dust from the seat back with her slender fingers. His breath hitched for the slightest moment at the compassion in her eyes. 

“Maybe someone down-to-earth will be less likely to make you fall . . . and break your heart.”
(Excerpt from Her Part to Play)

New situations and new seasons might be new doors God is opening for us, but they could also be what was there all along — once we are free enough to have eyes to see.

The day Etta’s song lyrics flitted through my mind wasn’t the first time my husband tried to pursue me. I won’t dig into our miscommunication and mishearing of accents and how I invited a group of co-workers to a date that was just meant for two. But even though I didn’t initially perceive it, a new thing was still on its way for me. A romance of Godly proportions was springing up for me despite the years of distance, despite the voices of inner doubt and fear, and amid the differences that should have hindered but instead brought us together. 

As I hummed under the setting sun that day, I leaned in to listen to the serenade of the Father who declared that, yes, home can be found here too. 

What new thing is God revealing in your life, despite the obstacles that say otherwise?

Her Part to Play is Jenny Erlingsson’s debut novel and is described by Library Journal as “warm, funny, and faith-filled.” This “endearing romance,” according to Publisher’s Weekly, focuses on Adanne, a woman who accepts a last-minute job as a makeup artist for a movie that’s filming in her small Alabama hometown. But the money hardly seems worth having to face the actor who got her fired from her last job in Hollywood. Sparks fly on and off the set, but will either of them follow the pull of their heart and find belonging with each other despite the differences that could pull them apart?

Award-winning author Patricia Raybon describes Her Part to Play as a “sparkling, stunning debut” featuring “a modern romance with old-fashioned courage and depth.”

Her Part to Play is a perfect read for the summer and is available now wherever books are sold. . . but leave a comment on this post and you’ll be entered to WIN* a copy for yourself!

Then join Becky Keife this weekend on the (in)courage podcast for a conversation with Jenny about this very special debut novel. Don’t miss it!

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes on 6/23/24 at 11:59 pm central.

Listen to today’s article or anywhere you stream podcasts.

Body Doubling: Finding Strength in Community as the Body of Christ

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In my role as a coach to writers and other creatives, I employ a variety of techniques to help my clients grow. I teach goal setting and other productivity strategies, but I have come to find that almost nothing I advise is as effective as one simple technique: body doubling.

If you are not familiar with the term (and don’t worry, I wasn’t either a couple of years ago), body doubling is a strategy used primarily in the ADHD community. When a project seems too difficult, being in someone else’s physical presence (even virtually) while you complete it helps you better accomplish that task.

In my mastermind group, we get together virtually every morning for an hour, say what we’ll be working on, and then reconvene at the end of that hour to share our progress. We turn off our microphones, and sometimes our cameras, and just work. And for some reason, we all get more done than if we had tried to do the work on our own.

A few years ago, I don’t think I would have tried body doubling. I have always been convinced that my problem has been laziness, and if I just buckled down and really pushed myself to work, I could finish my tasks.

One of the big lies that we have been told in our culture is that you somehow earn extra gold stars if you do it all yourself without help. It’s okay to be the helper, but to be the one who needs help — well, that’s just not a good look.

But what I’ve learned is that I need community more than just about anything else in my life, and not just on an emotional and spiritual level, but also in practical aspects like my work, managing my home, and serving my people.

The New Testament implores us to keep meeting together, to hang out together, and to do life together. It makes sense for the spiritual parts of our lives, but it is also critical for the practical.

“And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.”
Hebrews 10:24-25 ESV

We meet together for love (the spiritual) and good works (the practical).

When we gather together (online) for our group time, we start by sharing a little bit of what’s gone on in our lives since we last met. Sometimes, one of our members has had a hard day. Another wants to share a win. And we love on and encourage each other. Then we share what we want to accomplish in the next fifty minutes and get down to business. At the end of our time, we come off of mute, share what we accomplished, and promise to meet together tomorrow.

There is something so encouraging in knowing that there are other people “in the room” who are cheering me on and are there to witness the work. People who are invested in my win as I am in theirs.

If you have spent too much time trying to go it alone, grit your teeth, and just get through it, try these techniques to see if God’s design for community can help you check some things off your to-do list:

  • Struggling with that report at work? Ask a coworker to sit in the conference room with you for an hour, and while they work on their spreadsheet, you knock out that report.
  • Working from home? No problem. Jump on a Zoom call for an hour with a friend or colleague. While both of you are silently working, you will stay more focused just because you know the other person is there.
  • Need to clean out a closet at home? Ask your husband to sit in the room with you and go through his tech box that he’s been needing to go through, or do it with a roomie who needs to clean out her email inbox. You both will get more accomplished.

God’s design for community didn’t stop at church attendance. He designed us to need each other.

In a world that often glorifies self-sufficiency, let us have the courage to embrace God’s design for community, recognizing that by working together and supporting one another, we can not only accomplish more but also experience the joy and fulfillment that comes from living life as it was meant to be lived.

Discover the unexpected joys of community and homesteading in The Accidental Homesteader. This humorous and inspiring book shares hard-won wisdom to help you accomplish more, gain fresh perspective, and find contentment wherever you call home.

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

So Great Is His Faithful Love

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1 My soul, bless the Lord,
and all that is within me, bless his holy name.
2 My soul, bless the Lord,
and do not forget all his benefits.

3 He forgives all your iniquity;
he heals all your diseases.
4 He redeems your life from the Pit;
he crowns you with faithful love and compassion.
5 He satisfies you with good things;
your youth is renewed like the eagle.

6 The Lord executes acts of righteousness
and justice for all the oppressed.
7 He revealed his ways to Moses,
his deeds to the people of Israel.
8 The Lord is compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger and abounding in faithful love.
9 He will not always accuse us
or be angry forever.
10 He has not dealt with us as our sins deserve
or repaid us according to our iniquities.

11 For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his faithful love
toward those who fear him.
12 As far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed
our transgressions from us.
13 As a father has compassion on his children,
so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.
14 For he knows what we are made of,
remembering that we are dust.
Psalm 103:1-:14 CSB

We know Father’s Day can stir up a wide range of emotions. Joy and gratitude for some. Grief and disappointment for others.

We also know that God cares for all our emotions and experiences and is faithful to meet us wherever we are today.

And, we know that God is the Good Father we’ve always needed. His compassion never fails. His love never ends. His forgiveness is boundless. His goodness and grace are more than we could think, ask, or deserve.

May we spend time today meditating on the character of our Heavenly Father, remembering His benefits, and blessing Him with all our souls.

What attribute of God stands out to you from today’s Scripture?

God Welcomes Our Grief and All of Our Questions

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One day, I was frantically scouring my kitchen drawer, desperately hunting for a can opener.

When I found it, suddenly, a bittersweet wave of melancholy engulfed me. In a daring display, grief audaciously barged into my day, casting a somber shadow into the depths of my mind. How could a simple can opener have such power to trigger me?

In a fleeting instant, I found myself reminiscing about a treasured memory of my dear friend, Christina. The memory unfolded to the time she was on her way to my house to pick me up for church. She called and said, “Hey, don’t judge me for this, but . . . can you bring your can opener with you?” She told me she made coffee and wanted to add evaporated milk to it. When she finally arrived, I got into her car and handed her the can opener. “Girl, how old is this thang?” she asked, jokingly.

She always had a way of making me laugh . . .

As my kitchen became a stage, and this recollection of her unfolded, I could hear the faint echoes of her laughter over the low hum of the fridge. I couldn’t help but chuckle when the thought crossed my mind of her asking if my can opener was from the 1800s. She promised that she’d replace it with a modern one, but she never got a chance to. It’s crazy how there were so many things we planned, yet she never had the chance to accomplish those plans.

I can recall the day my dear friend passed away — I was awakened by the gentle movements of my daughter in my womb. I was filled with pure joy as I counted down the final two weeks until my baby girl’s arrival. I was also blissfully unaware of the phone call that would soon shatter my happiness, leaving me utterly devastated. Seven years later, the anniversary of her death still brings memories of the heart-wrenching phone call.

After Christina’s passing, my phone rang incessantly, as friends and family reached out to express their condolences. Most of the calls began with an awkward silence, followed by expressions of sympathy and well-intentioned advice, such as, “Try to find strength for the baby,” and, “Don’t question God.”

I didn’t know how to be strong, and I had so many questions accompanied by anger.

For six grueling months, I tried to suppress my grief and curiosity. I shifted my focus to navigating motherhood for a second time. Yet, I found myself juggling grief and joy, unsure of how to fully embrace their coexistence. The depths of my anguish ran so deep, it silenced my prayers. I submitted to the deception that my prayers didn’t matter, and I thought if I questioned God, it would be a daring and audacious betrayal.

My pastor preached a sermon that impacted me and allowed me to confront my grief. Later that day, I had a conversation with God in the privacy of my bathroom. It took me a while to utter the questions I suppressed for so long, but when I did, I was consumed by a surge of emotions. It was as if a mighty wave crashed upon the shores of my consciousness, leading to thought-provoking questions. God, why did she have to die? Didn’t we have great faith? Did she do something wrong? Why didn’t You heal her? What’s the reason for this?

My grief demanded answers and it ignited a profound curiosity within me. Yet, God met me where I was and He welcomed my pain and questions. 

For so long, I was taught not to question God and I thought doing so was inherently wrong. But then, I discovered that God actually embraces curiosity . . . and I was relieved to know that God welcomes our questions.

This encounter that I had with God awakened another memory I had with Christina. I had taken her to the emergency room because she was nearly unconscious. Intravenous fluids were administered and, after twenty minutes, I heard her mumbling under her breath. “It’s not worth it,” she whispered. “Let it go, let it go.”

As she gradually regained her strength, she raised her voice and said, “Forgive . . . forgive.” In the moment, I was confused. But, in looking back, I believe God helped me recollect that memory to show me that He was dealing with her heart at the time. After pondering this, God led me to Isaiah 55:8, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.”

In fact, God showed me that He heard our prayers. While we were praying for physical healing, He saw it fit to heal her heart and allowed internal healing.

When faced with the inevitable trials of life, it’s important to remember that God never promised life would be without suffering. Oftentimes, during these trials of suffering, our curiosity is sparked . . . compelling us to seek answers and understanding. Beauty lies in not having to suppress our emotions and deepest questions. Instead, we can find solace in respectfully approaching God with our questions, knowing that He is always ready to listen and provide guidance.

Let Us Thank Our Heavenly Father For His Love

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Today is different from any other day I’ve ever experienced.

In just hours, my family will lay my dad’s remains to rest after a quiet church service. Eighteen months ago, I moved my parents from their small farming community to live near me in Kansas City. My mom needed help caring for my dad. Dementia stole his memory, while Parkinson’s disease stole his mobility.

He was confined to a wheelchair and his rugged Levi jeans were replaced with diapers. But, unlike many end-stage Parkinson’s patients, Dad was still able to swallow . . . which meant he was able to eat. We were so grateful for this answer to prayer.

His ability to eat was no small thing. Dad thought everything was better with bacon, which he loved about as much as he loved my mom’s chocolate chip cookies. In fact, the last thing he ate the day before he left this earth was an entire sheet of cookies straight from the oven.

Remembering this brings us joy, even on this painful day. Tucked between hard memories are these soft pillows of goodness, a comfort for our hearts as we grieve. The quiet minutes before I leave for the church offer more pillows of goodness — a chance to remember all God’s blessings during this hard journey. 

Maybe you aren’t facing end-of-life issues for yourself or a loved one, but perhaps you’re facing end-of-marriage issues. Maybe you’re not physically sick but you’re worried sick over a wayward child. Perhaps you aren’t mourning the death of your dad but you’re mourning the lack of a dad for your children. Perhaps your father or your child’s father was, or is, absent due to separation, substance abuse, or health issues. Maybe it’s because of work demands, misplaced values, or mental illness.

At times, each of us will face something unbearably difficult. In John 16:33, Jesus says that we will all go through hard times. Yet, He also promises to give us everlasting joy, reminding us that He has overcome this pain-filled world. The loss of my dad? That qualifies as a trial — and so does whatever you’re facing today. Friends, I know this hard season may last for a while, and I know that I need to lean on my heavenly Father and His promises. So, I’ve bookmarked Psalm 136, and have welcomed its twenty-six verses to give me twenty-six reasons to give thanks for God’s faithful love. You’re probably familiar with the first verse: “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! His faithful love endures forever.” Psalm 136:23 is my favorite verse: “He remembered us in our weakness. His faithful love endures forever.”

Throughout my life, my dad was a pillar of strength whenever I was a puddle of tears. Now that he’s no longer here, I’ve been feeling weepy and weak. Although, perhaps, “weak” isn’t quite the right word. I think the better word is “weary.” As I’ve kept myself busy with all the tasks associated with a loss like this — partly out of necessity and partly out of an attempt to distract my bruised heart — I’ve become worn down. Maybe you’ve been there, too, whether because of a death or a move or a job change or the end of a relationship. Between being busy and deeply sad, we can end up so shaken and weary.

When this happens, God invites us to lean on Him . . . to accept the peace that surpasses human understanding. This is what is promised in Philippians 4:6-7: “Don’t worry about anything; Instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.”

When we feel weary, we need God’s Word to empower and remind us that we are more than conquerors. Those seasons when we feel weary with grief and exhaustion are exactly the times we most need to remember God’s promises: 

Friends, if you’re in the middle of a hard season today, I encourage you to rest your soul and join me in thanking our heavenly Father for His love and constant presence. I pray we can remember His truth even when we are weary and our world is shaken. Let us thank Him for being our Daddy, our Abba, who invites us to rest in His love until we rest in His arms.

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

We Are Made Free to Love, Not Judge

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She sipped her tea, then set the cup down and asked, “Do you think it really matters in the big scheme of things?”

I stared back at her while clutching my coffee cup, realizing just how worried I’d become.

Having grown up with multiple moves from one state to another, and then even overseas and back, I constantly felt like I didn’t know what the rules were wherever we landed. I was always playing catch up — always breaking rules without meaning to, always feeling like there was another unspoken rule I’d missed. All the while, I held an enormous amount of rules in mind that transcended continents and cultures.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t learned any rules – there were just so many. And on the surface, they often conflicted with one another. Everywhere I went, the rules changed. What was important to say or do in one place was laughable in another. What held weight and meaning in one city, went unnoticed in another.

For example, in Korean culture, no one cares if you eat with your mouth open. Food is a love language and food is often shared. I grew up with my mom feeding me to say she loves me. My mom grew up knowing what it was like to be hungry. Small rules about whether one’s mouth is open or not seem silly with that context in mind. To prohibit any expression of love would be considered cold and rude. However, in Euro-centric settings, it’s heavily frowned upon to chew with one’s mouth open. To do so is considered something that makes others uncomfortable and therefore, it’s inhospitable.

I could list a million more examples from shoes to the right way to eat noodles. When you are an American who embodies more than one culture and was raised with values from more than one place and people group, as many Americans are, it can be difficult to decide what rules to follow. For me, it’s been tempting to throw out everything or to pick one way over the other, which ultimately leads to communicating that one people group or culture is better than another. And that can lead to even bigger problems in the long run.

I looked back at my friend that day over breakfast, and said, “I guess I’m worried that I’ll be judged by one group or another, according to their rules.”

As I said this, I thought about all the times Jesus was asked about the rules, whether with honest intention, curiosity, or ulterior motives. In response, Jesus often surprised those who questioned Him. Instead of affirming a hard and fast rule or condemning one group of people over another, Jesus told stories or directed His listeners to examine their hearts and His own.

When asked about the specifics of the law by those who prided themselves on their knowledge of it, Jesus led them back to His heartbeat.

One of their religion scholars spoke for them, posing a question they hoped would show him up: “Teacher, which command in God’s Law is the most important?”

Jesus said, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.’ These two commands are pegs; everything in God’s Law and the Prophets hangs from them.”
Matthew 22:34-40 The Messsage

Instead of picking a side or staying stuck in my cycle of worry over being judged, I moved in my mind to sit at Jesus’s feet. Jesus doesn’t ever ask us to choose a side or prove who’s on the right or wrong side. He tells those who judge to drop their stones, examine their hearts, and go home.

I left breakfast that morning a little lighter, a little more aware of the nearness of Jesus and the freedom I have to love with my whole heart and let that be my guide – it was enough.

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

Is the Playlist of Your Life Building Up or Destroying?

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It’s easy to walk into a room and bring with me whatever it is that I’m thinking about. I can carry in joy on a sunny day because I’ve been driving with the windows down and my favorite tunes have been playing on my way to wherever I’m going. I can just as easily carry darkness and frustration if somebody cut me off or my air conditioning wasn’t working or someone said something to me that got me in a weird headspace.

We are real people full of real feelings and while that isn’t a bad thing in and of itself, I think sometimes I let my feelings get a hold of me in a way that I might reconsider if I actually took the time to be considerate.

Years ago, I was on a call with some colleagues and one of them posed this very important question that I haven’t been able to get out of my head ever since: What is it like to be on the receiving end of me?

You see, when I walk into a room and I bring all of my feelings, good, bad, or ugly, I’m not often asking that question. I’m not considering the fact that perhaps someone is having a bad day and I am making it worse by telling them how amazing things are going for me. I’m also not considering that perhaps someone is having a wonderful day and I’m about to bring them down by pointing out everything that’s going wrong. While our feelings are fleeting and we don’t have to let them totally control us, they still do have a way of coloring the world around us, don’t they?

On a podcast I was listening to today, the host brought up the fact that songs that are sad stream at much higher rates most likely because sad songs get listened to on repeat in a way that happy ones do not. When we are feeling big and challenging emotions, we tend to pull out our standby sad playlists and lean in hard to process.

Let’s be honest: there is something deep in our being that wants to amplify the emotions we are carrying. We want to nurture them and grow them. We don’t just want to be a little bit one way or the other, but we want to set a tone around us based on what we feel. If we are sad, the world is dark. If we are happy, the world is magic. No matter our state, the playlist must reflect it.

As a creative person, I understand this urge completely. I understand the desire that we have to live a life that feels authentic to our experience with depth and meaning. But sometimes, we don’t think about the collateral damage that our search for meaning may be creating. What if, while we are creating worlds in our mind of the perceived reality that we are walking through on a daily basis, we are actually inviting others into something that is not for their good? What if we are, in reality, encouraging cynicism or hopelessness or, to be fair, encouraging a fake happiness or pretend way about us that ignores the gravity of a situation?

When we engage with our friends, neighbors, or family members, we are not only bringing ourselves to the table, but also the messages that we are telling ourselves, the feelings we are cultivating, and the playlists we have curated that set the tone for each interaction. When I walk into a room and I have been festering in my bitterness, it not only affects my own heart but it actually could potentially infect someone else’s. Yes, we are all responsible for our own feelings and reactions and responses, but as sisters, we also belong to one another.

The Bible tells us in Ephesians 4 that we are members of one body and that even though we have different parts, we all come together for one purpose. I wonder what would happen if we saw our entrance into each situation or conversation or space as an opportunity to invite others toward goodness and beauty and Truth. What if we saw each connection point with another human as a way of existing honestly while also seeking out the best in others?

Friend, we do not walk into our days from a place of total neutrality. Everything that we do will do one of four things: it will exhort, explain, expose, or exploit. We can use our presence and our words to encourage someone and cheer them toward the truth. We can use our wisdom to help others understand something that perhaps they did not know about before. We can bring to light realities that may have gone hidden without their unveiling. And we can also manipulate, slander, and pull people apart in ways that are not healthy.

Psalm 139 talks about being so very honest with God that you’re willing to have him check your work, so to speak. The psalmist writes, “See if there is any offensive way in me!” Can you imagine that level of being known and called out?

And it doesn’t stop there. The next line is, “…and lead me in the way everlasting.” One translation (NCV) says, “Lead me on the road to everlasting life.”

We are at an intersection of life and circumstances, friend. And we’re sitting here, tunes blaring and heart pounding and shouting the lyrics of the songs we choose and we have a big choice to make: Will I use my words and my presence to build or to destroy? Will I explain or expose or exploit or exhort?

Here’s hoping we pause long enough to invite God to lead us on the road to everlasting life.

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

Don’t Let Old Jeans Make You Keep Looking Back

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I recently found my favorite pair of jeans from college. When I tried to put them on, I quickly realized they weren’t coming up past my thighs. I stared at the long mirror on the back of my closet door, examining the curves of my hips, the cellulite on my thighs, and the stretchmarks on my waist. This body wasn’t how I remembered it. Tears, anger, and frustration flowed as I peered at my reflection. 

Later that week, I was working with an older gentleman who needed physical therapy for weakness and balance. He reminisced about how he’d played college sports and how now his body was practically useless. I urged him to focus on his present abilities and how far he’d come in therapy. I encouraged him to honor his body for what it was today instead of comparing it to its past.

When I saw my old jeans later, I realized so much had changed in twelve years, including my pant size: marriage, a career, two babies, travel — I’d lived so much life! I decided to take my own advice and honor who I am today. I wouldn’t resent my body for not meeting an unrealistic goal or punish it through dieting. I would ditch the old jeans and stop looking back. Then I thought of Lot’s wife.

She was promised to be saved from destruction if she fled without looking back. Sadly, she looked back and turned into a pillar of salt. She had a guaranteed future, but she glanced back at what had brought her comfort instead of focusing on what was ahead.

Often the “glory days” or the “good ol’ days” make it hard to find contentment in the present. It’s hard to step into an unknown future when we live in the comfort of yesterday’s memories.

Friend, God’s not done with you. He isn’t disappointed that you’re different today than you were ten years ago. He wants you just the way you are, right now — cellulite and all. So, no more turning back.

“Forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 3:13–14 NASB

By Simi John, as published in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle

Today’s devotion comes from our book, 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle. And it’s not too late to join our Summer Study! Every weekday from now until July 12, you can find encouragement and community in our private Facebook Group. Hop on LIVE at 9 am CT or watch the replay any time of day.

Find all the details here, or just head over to the Facebook group to jump in!

Still need a copy of the book? Grab yours at DaySpring.com, Amazon, or your fave book retailer.

We all need daily reminders that God is working in every struggle we face, and He wants to give us the endless strength of His presence and divine perspective. Let this be the summer you experience Him like never before.

TELL US:
1. Have you joined the Summer Study yet?
2. Do you have an old pair of jeans or a tendency to look back that you need to ditch?
3. What comes to mind when you hear the words, “God’s not done with you”?

We’d love to hear! And we hope to see you here!

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

Morning Will Come, But God Won’t Leave in the Night

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For ten minutes, I stared at my phone screen in awe as friends across the country shared pictures of the northern lights dancing in the sky. I scrolled, captured by the wonder, until an image from my own town filled the screen and suddenly I couldn’t get outside fast enough. Pulling a sweatshirt over my pajamas, I slipped my feet into sandals and stepped outside, eyes up, eager and expectant.

There was no denying the crystal clear shot of pink I saw online that stretched above my friend’s apartment rooftop mere miles away, a muted but still present surprise on a Friday night in Alabama. The northern lights traveled south, a sight many never have the chance to see, and my smile stretched wide as I hurried down the steps, ready to bear witness.

A deep, dark blue waited for me. Turning in circles, I pulled out the compass app on my phone to make sure that, yes, I was definitely facing the right direction. With hope still rising inside, I raised my phone to take pictures of what appeared to be an extremely ordinary evening sky. Maybe the colors would show when seen through the camera lens, I thought.

But still, nothing.

I waited, I watched, and eventually, I turned to walk back inside. The sky above was its regular nighttime blue, and instead of a rainbow, the captured images showed an oddly pixelated smear.

The wind caught my hair, strands blowing across my face, and I thought of my friend standing under the same sky. It’s wild, isn’t it? How two people can have a very different experience of the very same thing – a conversation, an illness, a celebration, even the northern lights. And it’s true, isn’t it, that grief can unexpectedly color a year and smear itself over absolutely everything yet remain largely unseen by the naked eye.

But as I zoomed in on the image, the strangest thing took my breath away. Two thoughts arrived in quick succession, one right after the other:

Man, that’s a bummer…

Huh, that’s kinda pretty though…

The tension of the two together surprised me more than the northern lights traveling south.

Disappointment and sadness understandably appeared, but curiosity and unexpected appreciation for the blurry beauty quickly followed. Like a pair of glasses with one near-sighted and one far-sighted lens, both had something to say but neither told the full story.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d prefer the rainbow and not the smear, the delight and not the disappointment. I’d rather receive the surprise of bright colors dancing in the sky than the deep, dark blue. After a decade of waiting and asking God to bring physical healing to a chronic illness… after thousands of prayers that God would restore the years the locusts have eaten… after hoping for a miracle for so very long… of course I’d pick that in a heartbeat, wouldn’t hesitate to choose the light and not the night.

What I’ve come to know, though, is that God is in the night too. He’s present in the blur and the smear, holding us close in the surprise we didn’t want and would never choose, looking at us with kindness as we lift our heads and look up with hope, helping us see the beauty that still is and always will be.

Maybe one day I’ll see the northern lights and I’ll be so amazed that I dance below the dancing sky. Maybe one day the longed-for answer to long-prayed prayers will arrive. For now, though, the assurance that God is with us in both – bearing witness to joy that can’t be contained and grief that’s mostly unseen, with us as we weep and as we rejoice – is manna for the day and a refuge in the night.

Psalm 139:12 (ESV) says, “Even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you” and Psalm 74:16 (NIV) declares, “The days is yours, and yours also the night.”

Scripture is clear: darkness exists. But the repeated promise remains: we won’t face the night alone.

It may seem like we’ve been waiting for morning for a very long time, but we have not been left behind or lost, forgotten or abandoned. His eyes remain on us, His presence ever with us, no matter how deep or long or dark the night.

One day not too long from now, the “night will be no more” (Revelation 22:5). But for now, for today and tonight and tomorrow, we can rest assured that yes, joy is going to come with the dawn… but God isn’t going to leave us during the night.

He sees us, and He will sing us through the shadows until morning arrives.

For more encouragement in the messy, blurry middle, pick up a copy of Kaitlyn’s book. Even If Not will help you shift from the suspicion that God isn’t kind or present to the truth found in Scripture: on every single page of the story, He is with us and working all things for good.

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

Encouragement for the Lonely Ones

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O Lord, you have examined my heart
and know everything about me.
You know when I sit down or stand up.
You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
You see me when I travel
and when I rest at home.
You know everything I do.
You know what I am going to say
even before I say it, Lord.
You go before me and follow me.
You place your hand of blessing on my head.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too great for me to understand!
Psalm 139:1-6 (NLT)

At the core of loneliness is often the idea that we are not known by someone. Even if we were in a crowd of people or with a group of friends, we can still feel lonely because we may not have a deep relationship with them or the time spent together didn’t foster the intimacy we ache for.

This is where Psalm 139 is a balm.

God knows our hearts and minds. He knows where we are and He knows our restlessness to be somewhere else. He knows our thoughts. So we are without words? He still understands. God goes before us, is with us, and assures us of His presence — His blessing on us.

When you are lonely, remember we have a God who knows us intimately and loves us wholly.

When the Noise of the World Is Overwhelming

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I live in a Los Angeles suburb with a small-town feel. You can’t enjoy a latte at Classic Coffee without seeing someone you know. But for all the quaint charm, I often feel achingly overwhelmed.

Life presses from all sides. I can’t seem to keep track of Little League schedules or who to drop where or when. I run to Walmart and remind myself to breathe in the congested aisles when fluorescent lights flicker and I start to feel drifty and can’t remember what’s on my list.

I live a beautiful, ordinary, busy life, but it sometimes leaves me feeling wrung out. I’m a sensitive person, and the incessant lights and noise and hustle make my soul weary. I struggle to stay connected to God and others when all I want to do is retreat into a quiet cocoon.

And God isn’t surprised. Instead, He invites me away. He beckons me to the trail. Just five minutes from our house sits a beautiful canyon. Tall pines, oaks with twisted branches, and lush ferns line the trail. I let my husband and sons walk ahead. I enjoy their laughter and banter. Then I block it out and listen to the insects I can’t see and the rustle of the breeze playing in the trees.

Here I don’t have to remember to breathe. I don’t have to check anything off a list or battle the busyness. Here I feel close to God. Praise and prayer pour out of my soul as my feet pad the trail. I remember that my weariness is welcomed and the God of the canyon is also Lord of my life.

When life is too loud or too rushed . . .
When you feel surrounded but all alone . . .
God knows.
He invites you to breathe. On a park bench, a sandy shore, or a shady trail, find a way to spend a little time in the beauty He made. Surely, you’ll find yourself praising His name.

“Sing a new song to the Lord!
Let the whole earth sing to the Lord!
Sing to the Lord; praise His name.
Each day proclaim the good news that He saves. “
Psalm 96:1–2 NLT

Today’s devotion comes from our book, 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle. And it’s not too late to join our Summer Study! Find all the details here, or just head over to the Facebook group to jump in! Still need a copy of the book? Grab yours at DaySpring.com, Amazon, or your fave book retailer.

We all need daily reminders that God is real and He cares about our struggles. His comfort, support, and strength are available in abundance. Let this be the summer you experience Him like never before.