Hope for the Harried and Hungry (and a lesson from onions)

Hope for the Harried and Hungry (and a lesson from onions)

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The Bible is full of metaphors for how God sanctifies us, but in my book, the metaphor that sticks best is French onion soup. I know, stay with me.

Growing up, my cultural identity was a big question mark. I’m a dyed-in-the-wool third-culture kid: I’m Indian, grew up in Dubai, but attended a British-run school. My ancestors were Christ-followers in a country dominated by Hindus and Muslims. I didn’t feel at home anywhere.

But when I was eleven, I watched real journalism for the first time: CNN covering the first Gulf War. I knew then that I wanted to be an international correspondent, and I made it my life’s goal to become one. This identity rose above race and religion; it was a vocation.

I got into journalism school in the States, and after graduating, I began working at CNN. My dream was on track — I was a working journalist! But a few years later, I married my college sweetheart and moved to Los Angeles from the news mecca of New York, and for five long years, every employment door I knocked on stayed shut.

I was unmoored. If I wasn’t a journalist, who was I? A new Christian, I shook my fist at God. Why wake me up every morning if You won’t give me a purpose? Just take me home!

In many ways, I related to an onion: overlooked and stagnant in the darkness of the soil.

The kitchen became my solace. Here, I turned chaos into order, and ordinary ingredients into extraordinary dishes. My husband and I launched a cooking variety show on YouTube called Aarti Paarti, and soon after, some friends suggested I audition for Food Network Star, a cooking competition that awarded the winner their own cooking show.

I knew I could cook a few things, but I wasn’t a chef. Until then, the shame of my journalism career ending had been private; I couldn’t bear America witnessing my inevitable failure as a cook too. But I submitted an audition anyway, hoping they’d say no.

Except they didn’t. Their yes ripped me out of the safety of the pitch-black soil.

The first challenge on the show was to make 150 servings of a dish. The lights of the soundstage burned my eyes; sweat streaked my upper lip. The arena was populated by chefs trained in top kitchens and culinary schools. What am I doing here? I’m a dirt-splattered onion on a chopping block, I thought. With my heart in my mouth, I prayed, God, I can’t do this. Help. 

I made Tandoori BBQ Chicken on Scallion Blinis and to my utter surprise . . . I won! Astonished, I felt the papery skin of self-doubt begin to loosen at the root.

Each week, the challenges threatened to slice my onion-heart open and expose me as a fraud, but while chef after chef lost, I inexplicably remained. With every win, I felt the truth of 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NLT):

. . . My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.

As the competition heated up, the flames felt unbearable at times. But through it all, God was close, and His voice in my ears said, The only identity that matters is that you’re Mine. And even though I went on to win the show, understanding that truth felt like the biggest victory of all.

I read somewhere that sanctification is the closing of the gap between our identity and our behaviour. That process isn’t pretty, and it for sure isn’t painless. But here’s why it’s worth it: We don’t see all the potential God packed into each one of us. One of the benefits of being a child of God is that He’s intent on unleashing our full potential in the world! 

Take, for example, a raw onion. Take a bite, and you’d hardly describe it as sweet. But here’s the crazy thing: all the sugar you enjoy in a caramelized onion is there in the raw one! We just can’t taste it. Only heat can transform the onion’s large sugar molecules into the smaller ones our tastebuds can detect. And for French onion soup, you must slice the onion in a particular way — across her bow, slicing rainbow arcs that will melt into silky, sweet ribbons. Likewise, God knows how to slice and dice each of us to reveal those innermost parts of His glory.

Though our journeys are unique, one thing that unites us all is the refining fire. Just as onions release their moisture when they first hit the hot pan, God evaporated the misshapen molecules of my identity through the show: that my career was all that I was, that people’s opinions of me were paramount, that I had to earn His affection and attention. He replaced the lies with the truth that I am wonderfully made and that “he who began a good work in [me would] bring it to completion” (Philippians 1:6 ESV).

If you’re in the middle of the refining fire, don’t give up! Caramelization only happens at a whopping 212 degrees Fahrenheit. Pull the onions out of the frying pan too early, and they won’t reach their full potential. Our growth and sanctification can’t be skirted or hurried because each step is vital to the end result. 

While I was named a Food Network star, I’m in no way a complete dish. I’m still simmering away on the stove, deepening in flavour. Every day, I trust God’s capable hands to build a dish out of this unpalatable, unremarkable allium that I am — to turn the raw, unpolished sting of my fallen heart into a tantalizing near-perfect bowl of soup, poured out for Him, declaring to all who draw near that there is nothing sweeter than being called a child of God.

Have you ever felt empty after a full day? When there is still more to do, tasks to finish, and mouths to feed, how do you get it all done? You can reach for the One who will always sustain you. In her new devotional cookbook, Unwind: A Devotional Cookbook for the Harried & Hungry, Aarti Sequeira brings rest and peace to your meal preparation and the dinnertime rush.

In this thoughtful recipe collection by cooking show host, Food Network Star winner, and culinary expert Aarti Sequeira, you will be inspired by fifty heartfelt devotions, inspirational quotes from Aarti, and selected Scriptures as you recreate tasty recipes straight from Aarti’s kitchen! Hear about it from Aarti herself:

Aarti Sequeira- Book – Unwind from DaySpring on Vimeo.

In Unwind, you will discover reasons and recipes for joy, peace, hope, comfort, strength, and more that can lift your spirits even on the most demanding days. This new cookbook is a perfect way to unwind and prepare to enjoy a delicious meal with the people you love.

We’re thrilled to give away FIVE copies of Unwind! Just leave a comment telling us what cooking or family recipes mean to you*.

Then, tune in to the (in)courage podcast this weekend as Aarti Sequeira and Becky Keife have a very real and honest conversation about cooking, Jesus, and Unwind!

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

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm central on 10/1/23.

What If Making a Home Is the Next Right Thing God Has for You?

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I was never a child who dreamed of setting up a home or even getting married. In fact, when I was a young woman in high school and I imagined the future, I imagined what I called my Banana Republic Season: I would wear crisp Oxford shirts, live in New York City, and work as a journalist. I’d be a new version of Nora Ephron, crafting witty and memorable turns of phrase. I didn’t give much thought to what my living situation would be beyond the city.

I moved to Chicago for college and later to Austin and Nashville for work. I did the city thing, but was floating around from apartment to apartment. A few years ago, I moved back to New England (where I attended grad school years before) and I signed a lease for a little apartment. I knew I’d be here at least a year, maybe two.

I was met with old friends who helped me do the heavy lifting of moving, and this little space was turned from an empty few rooms into something vaguely familiar — though I didn’t even have a place to put my keys and was learning where my dishes would go. But with each small furniture find or purchase, I filled out my small apartment, replacing IKEA bargains with shelves and pieces that I re-painted and made my own.

It was 2019 and I had no idea what was coming.

No idea that a few weeks later I’d lose my job.

No idea that a few weeks after that, I’d get a call from a dear friend telling me she was sick.

No idea that I’d grieve the loss of that friend and then a global pandemic would keep me in this little apartment way more than I ever anticipated.

When COVID hit, I started going room-by-room and making sure everything had a place. I figured that if I was going to be stuck in these rooms, I might as well like them and get acquainted with their quirks. I unpacked those boxes that had been lingering during the season of transition, but I always left one closet untouched. I worried that if I tackled that last task of organizing, I’d have nothing else to distract me from the tiredness and raw grief I was wading through. What I didn’t realize was that in doing so, I was also avoiding settling down and settling in.

This summer, in the midst of wondering what is next in ‘my one wild and precious life,’ as Mary Oliver would say, I asked the Lord where He wanted me to focus my attention. Perhaps there would be a new task, adventure, or hobby on the horizon!

As I prayed, the idea that came to the surface was the encouragement to make a home. To settle down and settle in. It felt a little silly, but I realized how much I’d been waiting for something to shift and for my heart to be uprooted all over again. I’d spent so much time in my life moving that I forgot what it was like to let my heart be still in the space I called home. This invitation to make a home wasn’t just one to grow up, but to grow into whatever the Lord is up to next.

Over and over in Scripture, we see that God gives His people a place to find peace. Paul closes his second letter to the Thessalonians with the blessing, “Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every way” (2 Thessalonians 3:16). And sometimes, I think God gives us a chance to join Him in that process of making spaces that give us room to be at rest. 

Finding peace and making a home looks different in different seasons. Sometimes, it’s hosting a dinner party. Sometimes, it’s saying no to overcommitments. Sometimes, it’s taking time to go on long walks to call a good friend. For others, settling into peace means showing up at small group or making a favorite recipe.

Home is where we make it.

So I started with that closet I’d been avoiding. I started getting rid of things I didn’t need, organizing what I used, and rearranging my clothes. I found the final touches of my apartment this weekend and the last thing I placed was a little bowl in which to put my keys and wallet when I walk in the door. It’s a place to set down what matters and remind myself that I can settle in, too.

This apartment has proved to be a steady little friend, a haven to return to and exhale with. She has seen me yell and weep and rejoice and cheer. She has been forgiving when I put nails in her walls and hung up favorite memories and paintings and family portraits. And she has become a home that was made when I had no imagination for a future of making one.

 

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

Your Treasure Is Meant to Be Shared (and it has nothing to do with money)

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But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.
2 Corinthians 4:7-12 (NIV)

We carry within us the greatest Love — One who died so we could live, One that compels us to die to ourselves so others can also live. This Love is the strength that carries us when we don’t think we can go another step. He’s the path that shows us where to go when nothing makes sense. Love — God — lives within us, and He wants to show Himself to those around us, to the world, through our imperfectness, so others can see Him clearly.

Let’s love as He loved us — generously, keeping in mind that the treasure of His love is meant to be shared.

The Peace of Jesus Doesn’t Hinge on Your Performance

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Your baby is teething and keeps waking up at all hours of the night. A rude driver cut you off on your morning commute. Your roommate left her dishes on the kitchen counter — again.

Ugh. Can you feel the tension crawling up your neck?

Or maybe you woke up to a perfect hair day. Your kind neighbor brought in your trash cans. Your kids didn’t fight on the way to school, and the predicted storm instead gave way to clear blue skies.

Hooray! What a glorious day!

It sure is easy to let things that are beyond our control — whether bad or good — dictate our attitude. I see this in my kids too. If they get to play the video game of their choice: happy campers. If I ask them to take a family walk or empty the dishwasher: grumpy complainers. While I desire (and expect) my children to choose a grateful and cheerful manner whether they get what they want or not, I have to admit I don’t always follow my own standards.

But what does the Bible have to say about our attitude? In a nutshell, it says we should take a cue from Jesus. Listen to the instruction the apostle Paul gave to the Philippians: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves. Everyone should look not to his own interests, but rather to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:3-4 CSB).

There’s that word: humility. It means turning away from self-focus to others-focus, having a posture that chooses to serve instead of strive, and remembering that God is in control and we are not. These instructions lead us to the big takeaway: “Adopt the same attitude as that of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5).

When I was younger in my faith, I remember reading Paul’s instructions and thinking it was kind of ridiculous. I mean, Jesus is Jesus. The Savior. God in human flesh. Sacrifice and obedience must come easy for Him, right? How can God expect imperfect us to have the same attitude as perfect Jesus?

While I understand where my younger self was coming from, in truth it was a cop-out. I didn’t want to put others first. It felt like a lot of pressure to try to live up to Jesus’ standards. The bar was too high! How could any of us possibly reach it?

If you find your mind wandering down this same line of thinking, it’s time for a full stop. Paul’s instructions to adopt a Christlike posture are not a prescription for religious performance but an invitation to spiritual freedom, to eternal peace in Jesus rather than temporary pleasure in ourselves.

Jesus Himself said, “So if the Son sets you free, you really will be free” (John 8:36). We don’t have to perfectly follow an elaborate set of rules or offer animal sacrifices on an altar to be made right with God. We don’t have to earn our salvation or be a really good person for God to love us. “For you are saved by grace through faith, and this is not from yourselves; it is God’s gift — not from works, so that no one can boast” (Ephesians 2:8-9).

We will beat this drum as loud and as long and as often as we need to! Nothing about the peace of Jesus is wrapped up in our performance.

So what does adopting the same attitude as Jesus look like practically? Paul’s teaching in Philippians goes on to unpack this: “Do everything without grumbling and arguing, so that you may be blameless and pure, children of God who are faultless in a crooked and perverted generation, among whom you shine like stars in the world, by holding firm to the word of life” (Philippians 2:14-16).

Hold firm to the Word of life. That’s the goal, friend! Jesus said it Himself: “I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance” (John 10:10). How do we get this abundant life? Follow God’s Word and Christ’s example. Don’t grumble or complain. Be different from this dark world so you will shine brightly. In this way, the world will know whose you are!

Join me in praying this today:

Jesus, I want to be more like You. Help me adopt Your attitude of humility. Help me take on Your posture of servant-heartedness. I confess I’m often prone to grumble and complain. Help me exchange my irritability for Your peace. May Your light shine through me. I’m Yours. Thank You for being my Savior and Guide. Amen.

 

Devotion by Becky Keife, adapted from Create in Me a Heart of Peace

Create in Me a Heart of Peace will help you experience an inner calm-meets-strength that can’t be rattled by volatile circumstances or swallowed up by busyness. You’ll discover that the peace of Jesus is more powerful, practical, and applicable to our lives than any counterfeit version this world could offer.

 Get a free week and learn more about the Create in Me a Heart of Peace Bible study!

 

Embracing the Mystery of Faith in Every Season

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On an early September morning, with the skies still deep in their slumber, a dear friend pulled into my driveway. I kissed my snoring husband on the forehead, tiptoed through the kitchen as I checked into my flight, and wheeled my suitcase outside. School was back in session, and I was heading to a writing conference. The fall air was thick with an early morning fog.

The mark of a good friend is someone who drives you to the airport. The mark of a best friend is someone who wakes up early and drives forty-five minutes of winding back roads to get you to the airport on time.

It was too early for conversation, so we were quiet during the drive, the two-lane road bending and shifting as the car carried us forward. Haze hung thick in the air, and the back roads seemed even quieter than usual. The far-stretching fields turned from green to gold. We could see only a slight stretch ahead of us.

The morning mist held a sense of mystery, inviting my mind to wander. Will my kids be okay while I’m gone? Is it selfish to travel for work? My unspoken anxieties hung in the autumn air as we traveled on the sleepy roads. I wanted to see further ahead, to know everything would be okay.

No matter how much we want to see what will be, we live surrounded by mystery.

We don’t know what tomorrow will bring — we are but a vapor, our lives a mist (see James 4:14).

I wonder what it would be like if followers of Christ were known for our willingness to embrace the mystery rather than claiming to always have clear and concise answers.

Because the truth is that a life of faith is mysterious.

We live in mystery, believing there is truth in a swirl of now and not yet.

Amid life’s unpredictability, the temptation to seek clear-cut answers is strong. Yet, we believe in a God who created galaxies and became an infant born in the dirt. We live in the tension of now and not yet, unable to fathom all the mysteries of life and God’s ways.

The apostle Paul reminds us that this Christian life is a profound mystery that exceeds our understanding (1 Timothy 3:16). We don’t have all the answers, but we believe in the mysterious truth that is clear enough. In the haze of the unknown, we trust that Christ will light our path just enough to keep moving forward.

Eventually, our drive through the dense fog ended. My friend pulled up to the departure line at the airport, and I opened the car door, the thick fog blanketing me.

I didn’t know what the future held, but at that moment, I knew that God held me.

As parents, we’re entrusted with nurturing and guiding our children while navigating our own wonderings about faith. Life’s demands often make it challenging to tend to our souls and our family’s flourishing.

We can embrace the fantastic, messy, holy mysteries of faith in every season.

This fall, consider taking some time to reflect:

  • Why is there peace in knowing we can’t fathom the mysteries of God?
  • Why do you think people (especially adults) have such a hard time saying, “I don’t know”?
  • Have you ever shared your doubts and wonderings with God or with someone you trust? What happened?
  • What can the fall season teach us about God’s mysteries?

Borrow this prayer:

O God of mystery, hear our prayer. Comfort us in our doubts. Give us peace when we don’t know what comes next. We know our lives are but a vapor, but we also know that in the mist, You are there.

Help us to live into the mystery of a life of faith. Let us embrace the beauty in the unknowing. Give our family the courage to admit what we do not know and faith to trust You with our questions.

In our wondering and in our wandering, we believe in what we cannot see. Amen.

May God lead you and your family into rhythms of grace this fall – and in all the seasons to come.

Adapted from Every Season Sacred by Kayla Craig. Copyright © 2023. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, a Division of Tyndale House Ministries. All rights reserved.

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Every Season Sacred: Reflections, Prayers, and Invitations to Nourish Your Soul and Nurture Your Family Throughout the Years by Kayla Craig is a weekly invitation for parents to ask big questions, embrace faithful rhythms, and experience God’s mysterious, loving presence together. Every week, Every Season Sacred includes:

  • Honest & hopeful devotions for every season of the parenting journey
  • Encouragement to parent with intention & imagination, presence & purpose
  • Open-ended conversation questions & discussion prompts
  • Thoughtful prayers to borrow throughout the year.

With tender curiosity and contemplative wisdom, Kayla blends thoughtful musings and practical resources to meet parents right where they are. Whether you’re parenting a toddler or a teen, this family resource is one to turn to all year long as you journey through fall, winter, spring, and summer. You might want to grab a few copies of this beautiful, nuanced hardcover book as gifts to have on hand!

Great news! Kayla is gifting her preorder bundle to (in)courage readers with no purchase required! Visit this exclusive page to get immediate access to 100 family conversation cards, a booklet of daily prayers, a curated fall playlist, and instant access to the book’s first chapters.

AND more great news… we’re giving away five copies of Every Season Sacred!

Just leave a comment about your favorite season or rhythm, and you’re entered to win*.

Tune in to the (in)courage podcast this weekend as Kayla Craig and Becky Keife have a vulnerable and delightful conversation about Every Season Sacred!

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm Central on 9/26/23. 

 

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

How Parenting from a Place of Rest Transformed Our Home into a Haven of Peace

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As a homeschooling parent, my days are often a whirlwind of activity, filled to the brim with lesson plans, extracurricular activities, and endless attempts at optimizing every second of our day.

It’s what we, as mothers, are told to do.

I had read countless articles by well-intentioned mothers, each offering tips on maximizing our morning routines and squeezing productivity into every nook and cranny of our schedule. I followed their advice with noble aspirations; I wanted to provide my children with the best education, the most enriching experiences, and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

However, reality often fell short of my ambitious goals.

Despite my relentless efforts, my kids often dragged their heels through our meticulously planned days, accomplishing little, and I found myself drowning in frustration. The to-do lists grew, but our sense of accomplishment shrank, and the toll it took on all of us was undeniable. Meltdowns became a regular occurrence – not just from my kids but from me, too.

It was during one of those moments of exasperation that a revelation struck me like a bolt of lightning.

The exhausting cycle of packed days, stressed-out kids, and emotional meltdowns was not going to change until rest became a central factor in our lives.

I needed to pivot, to transform the way I approached parenting.

My realization came one day as I was reading Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (NIV).

Jesus’ words struck a chord deep within me. His invitation to find rest in Him was a reminder that in the midst of my family’s hectic life, He is our source of calm and renewal. But even more so, it was a wake-up call for me to pursue slow, unhurried living within our family.

Since that day on my living room couch with my Bible in hand, when my world felt rocked to its core, our family has made some big changes.

For example, in our home we now have:

  • Morning Rituals: We begin the day slowly and when everyone is ready. We come together for family prayer and read a short Scripture passage to set a calm tone.
  • Simplified Scheduling: I have more of a skeleton list of to-do’s, prioritizing quality over quantity in activities and lessons to reduce rush and stress.
  • Outdoor Exploration: When the weather permits, we spend time in nature as a family, going on slow walks, hikes, or picnics. Surprisingly, it’s while we’re outdoors that I have some of the most meaningful conversations and connections with my kids.
  • Quiet Times: We have daily quiet times where everyone can read, color, or simply enjoy moments of solitude. This has been a game changer for us, and we all feel rejuvenated afterward.
  • Unplanned Moments: I’m naturally Type A and a planner, but I’ve learned to embrace unstructured, spontaneous moments as a family, allowing time for play and creativity.

Taking to heart Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:28 extended far beyond the weariness of my individual soul; they became a healing balm over the fatigue of our home and the pressures of our daily lives.

Choosing the path of slow, unhurried living, I watched in awe as Jesus transformed our home into a haven of peace. 

Now (for the most part), the relentless rush of the world is left at the doorstep, and tranquility has taken its place. My kids still complain at times or don’t want to do schoolwork. But I now respond to them from a place of rest, and with the aim of maintaining our home as a sanctuary where stress and anxiety find no foothold.

When our homes become havens of rest, we shed the burdens of busyness and constant striving, discovering a deeper connection with ourselves and with one another. It’s in the unhurried moments that we truly see and hear one another, building bonds that withstand the test of time.

When we parent from a place of rest, we also grow spiritually. We model a life of rest for our children, teaching them not only the value of unhurried living but also the spiritual benefits of drawing near to God for refuge and renewal.

My prayer for you today is that your home can become a haven of peace as well, for your days to be characterized by unhurried moments, and for you to experience the richest blessings and the abiding presence of God’s grace.

 

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

The Secret to Being Everything and Everywhere All at Once

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I have a superpower, a secret strength that I call on when I am deep in the mire of monotony and the mundane, when I am desperate for deliverance from my ordinary life.

I make myself disappear by way of daydreaming. At a moment’s notice, I can leave life’s mere moments — the middle of car rides, the middle of meals, the middle of my son asking one million brilliant questions. I do it all the time. Even did it this week. In the middle of my son asking me a question, I retracted from reality and retreated into the recesses of my mind.

Where I could breathe . . . where I could press pause on all that presses and pretend to be someone other than me. Where I could leave behind my ordinary life — its gaping wounds, its worries, its woes.

When I disappear like this, my body is present but I’m mentally absent. In my thoughts, I mull over my ordinary life . . . pitting it against all my high and lofty dreams. To be a singer. To travel the world and visit exotic places. I dream some more and imagine myself hiking Yosemite, then catching a taxi in New York City. Then, again, dreams flash fast across the expanse of my mind. I’m a ballet dancer. I’m teaching children in South America. I’m an artist in a concrete studio. I’m a tourist in Paris.

I live into my dreams and cast myself into the countless possibilities panning across my mind. When I am jolted back to reality, I want to cry. But I can’t . . . because my children need to see that I am here, and my husband needs to know that I am happy, that there’s no place I’d rather be.

If I’m honest? It feels scary and raw to admit these things, to spill them out on the screen where you’ll scroll and read and respond to them. Because the last thing I want is to be told to appreciate my life or to be thankful and content. I’m not sure I need anyone telling me what I already know and believe to be true — that I really can’t escape my life. That I can’t be all the things I ever dreamed of being.

What I want, though, and what I need is for someone to tell me that God sees all of these infinite possibilities for the way my life could have panned out — the corporate career I almost had, the places I once called home, the dreams I cradled and, sometimes, still carry.

What I want, and what we all most desperately need, is for God to tell us that He sees deep down into our hearts. That He sees all our multifaceted passions and all of our divergent desires — all the daydreams, longings, and nuanced layers of loss.

It’s true — sometimes our tendency to daydream is really just a desperate attempt to replay the scripts of all our secret longings. All of which matter to God, even if they don’t ever come to fruition. So what if we let these replays become prayers? What if we let them become pleas, invitations to ask God to help us make peace with all that swells in and around us?

In the middle of our daydreaming, what if we dared ask God to reach in deep into our hearts and remind us that He sees the many ways we pine and strive to be and do all? What if we took our broken dreams and desires to escape our ordinary lives and turned to the only One who can be all, know all, and do all?

God is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent — knowing everything and being everywhere are His superpowers and His alone. He is everything we need and He is available to us everywhere, even all at once.

In this, we can rest assured: we’re not missing out on anything. We’ve not been handed a second-best life. There’s not some better, prettier, stronger, smarter, richer, freer version of ourselves floating around out there in an undiscovered multiverse.

The only secret to being everything and everywhere all at once is realizing that, only in Christ, will we ever be satisfied and fulfilled. Only in Him will we experience the greatest depth and width and height of life. Only in Him can we be everything we were ever created to be.

It’s no secret and it’s no superpower.

To be with Him is to be everywhere we ever need to be.

To be known by Him is to see we are everything we ever need to be.

How about you? What are your multifaceted passions and daydreams? How can you open your heart to believe that God sees all of what you wish for and all of who you are?


Practice peace, purpose, and being present to your life through soulful prompts and prayers with Rachel’s book, Let There Be Art.

 

Listen to today’s devotion on the player below or on your fave podcast app!

Your Mind Is Full of Whatever You Fill It With

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“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—His good, pleasing, and perfect will.”
Romans 12:2 NIV

Our minds often feel cluttered, overwhelmed, and unclear about who we are, what we’re here to do, and how to navigate the day-to-day moments of life. When this happens, it means that our mind is usually full — full of worry, doubt, fear, and uncertainty. The quality of our thought life is largely the litmus test for how we’re really doing and what we really believe about ourselves, others, our circumstances, our future, and our standing with God. Almost instinctively, we tend to look at what’s wrong instead of seeing what’s wonderful.

So, how do we shift from a mind bogged down and steeped in anxiety to a mind that is joyful, optimistic, secure, and courageous? The answer: mindfulness.

Mindfulness simply means to be aware of something. And awareness is at the heart of abiding, which— using our working definition—means “to live in a state of expectancy.” If you’re in a state of worry, that means you’re expecting something to go wrong. You’re actually residing in doubt and choosing to find refuge in fear. However, Jesus showed us how to abide in peace by centering His life, words, and work around mindfulness with God. Everything else flowed from Him being constantly filled with expectancy about God’s goodness.

Our mind is full of whatever we fill it with. The good news is that we can choose to fill it with the goodness of God. This is the reason for tracking your Daily Blessings and committing to seek out everyday goodness. Choosing to see life through the lens of appreciation, affirmation, and gratitude (instead of lack and loss) is how we renew our minds to align with the Holy Spirit. It’s how we learn to see that God really is always with us. This awareness . . . this intentional discipline of holy mindfulness . . . is how we learn to abide.

Because we’re rarely taught how to abide and just told that we should, this concept can end up fostering more stress and confusion. Don’t let that happen here! Abiding is really simple. Breathe that in and embrace this truth for a moment. Abiding is simple, and it’s designed to be enjoyable. It’s not a to-do list or get-it-right type of thing. It only requires one thing: that you be intentional. Understand that abiding isn’t random. It’s specific. It’s consciously choosing to enter and remain in the secret place of God (a promised space with only your name on it) for the purpose of receiving, resting, and resetting.

This also happens when we speak (declaratively) the language of God. Our words reset our world. You see, the brain is an organ, but the mind is an organization. Renewing your mind allows the presence of God to reset and reorganize your thinking (and speaking) so the Holy Spirit can recalibrate every aspect of your life. Our minds are the bridge to seeing either blessings or burdens. Mindfulness enables us to abide.

Lord, thank You for the gift of wisdom. I know You love to give wisdom freely and lavishly. Equip me to see the way You see. As I enter Your presence, renew my mind. I submit every stubborn and misaligned thought to Your Holy recalibration. As I abide in You, help me to think like You. Amen.

—

The greatest weapon blocking what God is building in your life is worry. As an ambitious woman daring to believe bigger about who you are and what Heaven has for you, you have much on your mind. Dreams, goals, responsibilities, mission-building, and a to-do list that never ends. Our mental stress can cause our eyes to default to what is wrong or missing versus seeing what God is sending. In her new book, Daily Blessings: A Mindfulness Journal on the Goodness of God, Reinvention Strategist Marshawn Evans Daniels shows how the practice of appreciation and affirmation invites you to exchange overwhelm, self-doubt, perfectionism, and distrust for a spirit-led, limitless mindset. You will see how God’s love moves Heaven and Earth for you every single day and in every single way.

Daily Blessings has a ten-week intentional framework structured to help you practice appreciation and affirmation. Each week is based around one of The Ten Dimensions of Abiding. You’ll kick off each week with (1) an overarching anchor Scripture, (2) a master devotional reading, (3) a mindfulness centering called “Let’s Abide”, and (4) guided Prayer Moxie. You can revisit the kick-off message for the pillar you are in each day if you like. You’ll likely notice that the passage will spark something new each time. Additionally, each day is broken into two phases: Phase One is Morning Gratitude, and Phase Two is Evening Appreciation and Affirmation. This Daily Blessings journal is your daily invitation to abide in the goodness of God.

Pick up your copy of Daily Blessings: A Mindfulness Journal on the Goodness of God… and leave a comment below to enter to WIN one of five copies*!

Then tune in this weekend to the (in)courage podcast as Marshawn talks with Becky Keife about the Daily Blessings Journal! You won’t want to miss this POWERFUL conversation!

 

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

*The giveaway is open to U.S. addresses only and closes on 9/25/23 at 11:59 pm central.

What Sunflowers Taught Me About Friendship

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When Hurricane Hillary blew through Southern California, I stood back and prayed. We live in the mountains of Northern California, so except for praying for our friends and their neighbors who lived down south, we assumed we would be utterly unaffected by the storm.

But as we watched the weather reports, we realized that not only were we going to get thunder that required our dog to be on a constant stream of anti-anxiety medication, but there was going to be rain and wind enough to wreak havoc around our mini-homestead.

So we reinforced the chicken coop and brought in some of the equipment we didn’t want to get wet. Then I caught my husband, Roger, standing on a ladder, attempting to tie our sunflowers together. (Because that’s what you want to see as thunder and lightning come rolling in — your husband standing on a metal ladder in the middle of your garden.)

But here’s what you have to understand: These were not your average sunflowers. When I bought the seed packets months before, I wasn’t paying attention to the type of sunflowers I was getting.

When they named these “Mammoth Sunflowers,” they weren’t kidding. These yellow beauties have grown to fifteen feet and show no signs of stopping. I cannot tell you how much joy we’ve received from these flowers. I’ll be in the middle of a call with a client and find myself staring out the window at these majestic giants. And I’ve caught Roger more than once glancing out the kitchen window with a big smile on his face.

The amount of happiness we’ve sown from a two-dollar pack of seeds almost feels like cheating nature. That is, at least, until Hillary blew through.

We wanted to do our best to give these joy-bringers the best chance at survival.

I wasn’t worried about the smaller sunflowers and other flowers and vegetables that were protected by our garden fence. I knew they were enclosed and would ride out the storm just fine. But these giant sunflowers, which had grown ten feet beyond the garden fence, were the most at risk.

That’s something I’ve noticed often — it’s my friends and the people I love who are growing beyond their safe places and bringing so much joy to others who are often most susceptible to being hurt. The ones who are serving the most are the ones who are risking the most.

And what is the cure for that — to stay safe? To not grow beyond the expectations of others?

No.

It’s to find the other people who are growing and serving and loving and hang out with them.

It is to lean on those friends who are also venturing outside the safe zone.

“Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their labor:
If either of them falls down,
one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
and has no one to help them up.”
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 NIV

If you are in a season of growing, doing things beyond others’ expectations, beyond the safety of what you are “supposed” to be doing, that will make you vulnerable when the storm comes.

My strategy when I’m taking risks is to hang out with others who are doing the same. We can support each other and hold each other up.

If you are in that risk-taking season, I’m guessing you’re also supporting others who are doing the same. Can I suggest a few practical steps?

  1. Remind your friends, and yourself, that what you are doing is brave. Most people rarely grow beyond the garden fence. Taking risks is an act of courage and you are to be celebrated, and so are your friends. My friend, Susy, whom I consider my hype woman (and I hope I am the same for her), gives me words of encouragement, puts together celebration bags, and reminds me that even when I fail, I’m just clear-cutting a path for the next time I try.
  2. Feed that friend. About the holiest thing you can do when someone is in a battle is feed them. If they live nearby, take them food. If they live far away, send them Starbucks gift cards. Both are acts of service.
  3. Remember that everyone gets to succeed. My husband and I are a great team because we are too busy fighting side by side to fight with each other. We keep each other standing because that’s what you do with people who are by your side.

Oh, and our sunflowers? The ones Roger tied together? They survived. It was not the same story for the ones he didn’t get to support each other.

And that? Is a lesson for us all.

Want to learn more about Kathi’s red house in the mountains? Click here to check out Kathi’s new book, The Accidental Homesteader.

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

My Story Is Bigger Than My Hair

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Beautifully decorated tables waited for guests. Men in black pants and white dress shirts filled water glasses. Hostesses rushed about completing duties before the Ladies’ Tea began. Women milled about in lovely spring dresses. Women from all walks of life. All stages of life. Women everywhere. More than a hundred wonderful women prepared to worship in song, listen to a message of hope, and converse with others over a cup of tea.

My heart skipped a beat. Thudded.

There’s always been a secret voice in my head when I walk into a room filled with women. Will I fit in? Did I wear the right clothes? What will they think of me?

This time, though, it was different. When I walked into that room filled with women, I didn’t just see faces. I didn’t just pay attention to what they wore. Their voices did not register.

I saw their hair. Every single person in the room. Natural colors of gray, brown, blonde and red. Streaks of blue or purple. Highlights and lowlights. Long, short, feathered, styled, chaotic, gorgeous hair. No hats. No scarves. No shaved heads. Except for me.

Because, my lovely, long hair had succumbed to the razor soon after chemo started.

Several months had passed, and the rest of my hair fell out. In many ways, it was my new norm. But the tumultuous feelings remained. With every pass of the clippers, a part of me fell away. I’d spent a lifetime figuring out who I was: a child of God, writer, creative, teacher, wife, mother. But the one label I couldn’t fathom, the one thing I couldn’t wrap my mind around, was “cancer patient.” I no longer looked like me. Let alone felt like me. My world had imploded. Seemingly, everything of value—everything that made me, me—was contingent on what the world could see.

With the loss of my hair, I lost my identity.

Too many times, I’ve let the world tell me I wasn’t good enough. Like, the fellow kindergartner on the playground who called me fat. Or, my ballet teacher who compared me to an elephant. Even those whispers behind my back from the girls in the “in” crowd. Then, when the outside voices stopped, my inner critic took up the gauntlet.

I felt unworthy because I didn’t have expensive clothes. I felt I did not deserve respect because I never rose to the top of my field. With my cancer diagnosis, I fell deeper into this way of thinking. It felt as though my very existence held no value because I could not work or complete basic household tasks, Some days, I couldn’t even walk unaided.

In that big room with beautifully decorated tables, I finally learned to strain my sight . . . until I saw faces, and not just hair. I saw friends, acquaintances, and Bible study partners. I saw women who brought meals to me when I was sick . . . women who had fought battles of their own — battles of loss, illness, disappointment, discrimination and hopelessness. I saw wonderful hearts who wanted to love and serve the Lord. Not a single face, not a single head of hair, told their full story.

Suddenly, as I saw these women, I wondered: Where were women with short hair. Was that by choice? Or were they further along on their cancer journey? Were any of them wearing wigs? But, the truth is, I couldn’t tell. I realized I could not hope to know their story, simply by looking at them. And neither could they could not know mine. My hair loss represented all those times I tried to fit in—to make myself valuable—and failed. The image I wanted to create for myself did not hold up against the heart-whole identity God wanted for me. It wasn’t about the hairs on my head—or lack thereof—it was about what was in my heart.

What was in my heart? Disillusionment. Anger. Fear. Comparison. But also empathy, love, and courage. A desire to help others. A longing to grow closer to Him. Sanctification through Jesus’ love for me. I’m so much more than what the world sees. I am—you are—we are the beloved chosen of God. His creation. He knows our hearts.

Our identities are not contingent on how the world sees us. Not in our efforts. Not in our failings or successes. Not how we dress, style our hair, or even the things we accomplish during the day. We need not be anything more than who God created us to be.

He sculpts our identity as a reflection of His. A woman of joy and pain. A woman with fears and courage. A woman of God.

When I think of that season of baldness . . . when I remember that what I see is not the entire story … I find comfort in knowing I’m not the sole creator of my identity. Instead, I rely on someone infinitely more wise than I could ever hope to be.

I am His masterpiece — we are His masterpieces.  

Uniquely created in His image . . . for His purpose!

The Thing That Really Matters as a Woman

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Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last;
but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised.
Provers 31:30 NLT

We are constantly bombarded by ads for for the latest and greatest, most effective, must-have beauty serum and anti-aging cream. We’re told beauty is found in a bottle and it’s worth whatever the cost may be. The world tells us that pursuing beauty and charm will have the biggest payoff for our lives, relationships, careers, self-esteem. Be the prettiest, fittest, best girl-boss, do-it-all mom and then you’ll have the life you always dreamed of. Defy aging and you’ll be praised by society.

There’s nothing wrong with being beautiful. The Creator Himself deemed us fearfully and wonderfully made. He delights in His creation. Indeed, we are His masterpiece!

But outward beauty is not the mark of a praiseworthy life. Our bodies were made to age, but our fear of God was meant to praised. Fearing the Lord means living with a holy awe of reverence for who He is. Fearing the Lord means surrendering our lives to the only One who is worthy of our praise and trusting His good and perfect will.  Now that is something to commit to no matter the cost.

So if you’re looking in the mirror today sister and see your beauty fading, take heart! Your worth is so much deeper than your skin. 

Hope in the Middle of the Storm

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As evening came, Jesus said to his disciples, “Let’s cross to the other side of the lake.” So they took Jesus in the boat and started out, leaving the crowds behind (although other boats followed). But soon a fierce storm came up. High waves were breaking into the boat, and it began to fill with water. Jesus was sleeping at the back of the boat with his head on a cushion. The disciples woke him up, shouting, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re going to drown?” When Jesus woke up, he rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Silence! Be still!” Suddenly the wind stopped, and there was a great calm.
Mark 4:35-39 (NLT)

The story of Jesus calming the storm is told in three of the four Gospels: Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Each account describes a trip across the lake after a long day of teaching. Jesus — who was fully God yet also fully human — was understandably tired and took a nap. While He was sleeping, a great storm blew in. Just as the waves threatened to overwhelm the boat, fear threatened to overwhelm the disciples.

We often react the same way, don’t we? We can become overwhelmed by external circumstances (relationship troubles, job loss, debt, too many demands on our time, parenting, caring for elderly parents) or by internal conditions (fear, anxiety, depression, anger, resentment). And when it feels like the winds of those overwhelming storms might knock us down for good, we frequently find ourselves looking around frantically. Can anyone help me? Does anyone notice what’s going on here? Who’s in charge? Where is God in all this?

We can become so overwhelmed with fear or pain that we lash out, looking for anything to stop the storm. We might begin to seek solutions or solace from anyone or anything that offers a substitute for real hope or help. We turn to Google or Facebook, a punishing workout, or a numbing drink. All the while, God is holding us in His hand. He isn’t asleep, and He hasn’t forgotten about us — even when in our panic we’ve forgotten about Him.

Like the disciples in the boat with Jesus, we desperately need hope when life is overwhelming and we’re tempted to panic and forget what’s true. But while we’re all going to falter in our faith at times, it’s what we do next that counts. Will we spiral deeper into panic and doubt? Or will we acknowledge God’s presence and power and turn our focus back to Him?

In Mark 4:39, to stop a raging storm, Jesus utters just three words: “Silence! Be still!” These words echo Psalm 46, which begins with a familiar declaration of hope: “God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble” (v. 1 NLT). Toward the end of that psalm, God says, “Be still, and know that I am God!” (v. 10 NLT). We see a similar command even earlier, in the book of Exodus. As Moses attempts to calm and reassure the Israelites during their escape from Egypt, he says, “The Lord will fight for you, and you must be quiet” (Exodus 14:14). Other translations of that verse say you must “remain calm” or “keep still.”

When we read these passages together, a clear picture is formed of a God who can win wars and calm storms with a single word. So even though our life may feel like pure chaos as we juggle (and drop) balls in our attempt to manage everything on our own, He is not just offering us a lifeline. He is our lifeline. He is our rope of hope when we are overwhelmed, showing us again and again that He is our best and only hope.

This devotion is written by Mary Carver, adapted from Create in Me a Heart of Hope .

True or False: You need hope today.

No matter who you are or what you’re going through, we all need the kind of hope that lasts, hope that strengthens and sustains us, hope we get offer to others (because when they see our lives, they’re going to want it!).

This is exactly what you’ll discover in the Create in Me a Heart of Hope Bible study! We’d love to give you a FREE WEEK to get started! SIGN UP HERE.

For When You Find Yourself Asking God, “How Much Longer?”

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“How much longer?” the small voice asks from the car seat, barely fifteen minutes into an eight-hour drive with extended family. I smile at my toddler cousin, but after the fifth or sixth time, I realize: This is the very thing I’ve been asking God. Maybe you’ve wondered this, too?

Day after day after day. Prayer after prayer after prayer.

We collectively stand in grocery lines and sit in uncomfortable chairs at Urgent Care. We listen to elevator music while we’re placed on hold and submit resumes as the bank account dwindles. We wait and pray. We wait and hope. We wait and wonder, “How much longer, God, until You heal what’s broken? How much longer until there’s a diagnosis, a baby, a restored relationship, a job, a way through the seemingly impossible?”

It isn’t that we don’t trust God’s goodness and sovereignty. We’re strapped in, seat belts buckled, certain that God will bring us all the way Home. We know the storm won’t be the end of the story, but, well, we wonder exactly how long the storm will rage.

Or, at least I do.

I often think about how it’s a gift that many stories in Scripture are familiar to me. I’ve heard the names since childhood and can usually recall bullet points or at least a few details. But there’s a danger: I forget the timeline. I forget just how long these real people sat in metaphorical “waiting rooms.”

Noah didn’t build the ark overnight. It took many years before the project was complete and rain fell for the first time.

Sarah and Abraham longed for a child, and for decades they received disappointment month after month after month.

Joseph was seventeen when his brothers sold him into slavery; he spent years in prison and was nearly forty when his family arrived in Egypt during the famine.

Moses fled Egypt and lived in Midian for forty years before he saw the burning bush.

The Israelites wandered in circles, walking laps around in the wilderness for forty years.

David waited many years between being anointed as king and sitting on the throne.

The people of God waited 400 seemingly silent years between Malachi and Matthew, longing to hear a word from the Lord.

Jesus waited thirty years before beginning His public ministry.

There are plenty of times things changed in an instant, but waiting, it seems, is woven throughout Scripture.

I think of this as I walk through an outdoor labyrinth in my city. The summer sun beats down, warming the carefully arranged stone pavers. I begin, slow and steady, and quickly realize that I can’t look too far ahead. The entire path is clear from above but from where I stand the view is limited. I blink back tears as it weaves in and out, nearing the center only to curve out once again, and I say out loud in the empty garden, “This is what it feels like right now, God. Each step brings me closer, but I’m literally wandering in circles here. All I can do is take the next step, trusting the path will lead where it has promised but not knowing what it will bring along the way or how long it will take.”

Of course, I’m talking about more than a narrow path underneath my feet. There are waiting rooms I’ve been in for so long now that I know every piece of art on the wall, every chair that wobbles, every crinkle and crease of old magazines stacked on the side table. More than a decade has passed and I’m still here, still praying and believing, trusting and weeping, asking and hoping. Still waiting.

Step after step after step. Lap after lap after lap.

What I want is a miracle — and instead, I receive just enough strength to carry through the day. I keep praying for power that heals and restores — and He gives grace that sustains. It feels like manna, like exactly enough for today and no more. Nothing extra, nothing in the reserves, no stockpile set aside for a rainy day, a long night, or a winter that endures.

But always, manna.

“How much longer until XYZ?” I wonder, knowing the path is clear from above. “I won’t leave your side. I’ll be there every step of the way,” God seems to whisper in the wind, the leaves swaying with the afternoon breeze. It’s not the answer I’m asking for, but it’s the promise I need. And miraculously it turns out to be no less of a miracle, the grace that sustains when winter endures.⁣

Manna after manna after manna. Mercy after mercy after mercy.

Looking back, fingerprints of His faithfulness mark every page. God was there then and He’s here now, with us in every waiting room, working for our good and His glory. Remembering God’s past faithfulness helps us hold tightly to joy in the present and hope for the future. That doesn’t eliminate our questions, but it reminds us of the story beneath the story: it won’t be long now until winter permanently gives way to resurrection.

One day “how much longer” will be no longer.

One day, everything will be colored the shade of restoration.

But for today, we hope. We pray “on earth as it is in heaven.” We remember that God will not be rushed, but neither will He be late. We wait and we trust and we find that it’s true: God really is going to carry us through.

If you’re asking “How much longer?” and you’d like more encouragement for the waiting room seasons, Kaitlyn’s book Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between will help you choose hope for tomorrow when today feels like a question mark.

 

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

God Hears and Is Near When Your Heart Is Heavy

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Sometimes, news hits like a gut punch, right smack in the normal hubbub of dancers switching classes and dance moms chatting in the lobby. Sometimes, in an instant, everything changes and falls far from normal.

You try to keep your voice chipper because she’s already cried enough tears, and you’ll let yours come later. But your voice still cracks and wavers because the heaviness of life-will-never-be-the-same-again is a lot.

In the coming weeks, you’ll hold both what you know and what you don’t yet know in the open palms of your hands. You’ll pray on your knees and with your face pressed to the floor. You’ll accidentally smudge the lyrics of that worship song that you wrote in the margins of Psalm 139, because you can’t turn down the volume of grief.

Even then, you’re not ready for the crushing details when there’s a re-diagnosis. Late one night, you hold your cell phone to your ear with one hand and, with the other, you’ll press a pen to a torn paper towel, outlining bleak snippets.

The next morning, you turn on “Worthy of It All” . . . that song you play on repeat. You place your Bible (opened to Psalm 139:8-11) next to the paper towel scribbled over with your notes. You read aloud through the chapter. You’ll insert their name and read those dear words like a prayer:

If she goes up to heaven, you’re there.
If she goes down to the realm of the dead, you’re there too.
If she flies with wings into the shining dawn, you’re there.
If she flies into the radiant sunset, you’re there waiting.
Wherever she — all of us — go, your hand will guide us; your strength will empower us.
It’s impossible to disappear from you or ask the darkness to hide us, for your presence is everywhere, bringing light into our night.

As you pray, sing your favorite worship song on repeat, and recite Scripture, you begin to feel anchored to the unchanging truth that God is good . . . nevertheless. You begin to remember that He is kind, compassionate, and present — whether the healing comes on this side of heaven or not.

He’s the sort of God who finds us there on the raw edge of all that splinters and dead-weights; the sort of God who sits with us in our pain. And though our bodies are frail and hearts are busted, His promises never waver, never break.

He is the Hope-Light in the dead of night. The Gentle Guide of tender, aching hearts. The One waiting, listening, embracing us at every turn.

If you were to pull old journals off shelves and out of boxes, you’d find records of prayers big and little answered. Not always with a yes, but with an assurance that God hears and is near.

As a kid praying about things like misplaced cell phones, retainers, and return tickets home, you couldn’t see how the practice of praying in the “now” would teach you that God can always be trusted. Through it all, you’ve learned to go to Him quickly with all your thin hopes and insistent worries, knowing that everything that matters to you weighs on His heart too. You’ve learned you have His full attention and affection. That, God holds back none of His raging love for us, no matter how He answers.

As a college student, spending countless hours with open Bible and face pressed to the carpet, you couldn’t yet see how you’d need the things that crack you wide open to remember you know God differently on your knees. But now you see the gift in seasons of stretched-out waiting, urgent praying, and good things breaking. Because grace is in the things that make you seek Him . . . and you finally see this whole time, He’s been teaching you to treasure His presence over answered prayers.

God’s goodness is steady through every bend and valley. He’s with us in the miracles and the sunrises bursting wild through dark clouds. He’s also near in the grief and groan that makes the space between heaven and earth paper thin.

Indeed, He hears  . . . and He is near when your heart is heavy.

 

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

The Thing You’ve Got to Know When Your Motivation Is Waning

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Last night I hardly slept. I was haunted by the heaviness of insecurity and anxiety. My thoughts hastened from disappointment, “I wish I earned more money,” to doubt, “Did I somehow miss God along this path? Did I veer right when God was leading me left?” Answers and clarity did not come in the night’s darkness. I tossed and turned, anxious to be rescued by the light of day. But also, I was exhausted and needed a good night’s sleep. As you can imagine, as the sun rose to greet me, I retreated, burying myself beneath my comforter. 

Aching from the wet blanket of a night, my body could not be motivated to move. I just wanted to lay in bed and take a personal day from being me. I wanted to quit —  quit my purpose, quit my rationale for being here, quit my raison d’etre. I wanted to conjure up a different purpose – one that feels more simplistic and affable – a purpose that doesn’t ask me to be the administrative assistant and personal Uber for three brilliant and talented children and their two cute Aussiedoodles, while designing and teaching a high school elective on anti-racism, leading a nonprofit, writing encouraging blogs, publishing books, consulting with schools, coaching executives, and managing menopause! I love all the things that I get to do (except for menopause). But in the darkest hours of the night, I longed to be a highly-paid IT professional who gets to work a thirty-hour week and leaves all her company cares at the office when she goes home to her family who has nowhere important to be.  

As I got ready for school after my sleepless night, I fought to sense God’s tangible presence. I wanted to feel motivated. I prayed, Today, I don’t have it in me. God, You’re going to have to show up for me.

Walking through the school lobby on the way to my classroom, I paused to read the whiteboard, intentionally positioned to grab the attention of passers-by. A handwritten quote read: 

“Don’t expect to be motivated every day to get out there and make things happen. You won’t be. Don’t count on motivation. Count on discipline.” – Jocko Willink

In a world that constantly preaches the gospel of motivation, I sometimes find myself seeking that fleeting feeling of enthusiasm and inspiration to propel me in my purpose. I look for external factors to ignite the fire within, to keep me going when the journey gets tough. For example, I often wonder if earning a lot more money would make me feel validated and stimulated. But God’s divine purpose calls me to a different standard — one that transcends the whims of emotion and taps into the wellspring of unwavering determination.

The apostle Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, speaks about pressing on toward the goal. This pressing implies a continuous effort, regardless of external circumstances or internal fluctuations of motivation. 

It’s easy to start with a burst of enthusiasm, but what happens when that initial fervor begins to wane? This is where discipline steps in. Discipline is the steady anchor that keeps us rooted in our purpose, even when the winds of doubt and weariness try to sway us.

When we understand that our purpose is not contingent on fleeting feelings but is a divine calling, we can appreciate the importance of cultivating discipline.

In Philippians 3:14, Paul encourages us to press on toward the goal of winning the prize for which God has called us. Notice that it’s God who has called us to this purpose. It’s a calling that’s uniquely designed for us, tailored to our strengths, talents, and experiences. This realization strengthens our resolve and reminds us that quitting isn’t an option. Only we are designed to fulfill this purpose, and quitting would mean leaving a void that no one else can fill.

Consider the story of Nehemiah. He faced incredible challenges while rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem. He encountered external opposition, internal doubts, and the temptation to give up. However, he recognized the importance of his role in fulfilling God’s purpose. Despite the weighty difficulties, he pressed on with unwavering discipline. And because he didn’t allow his motivation to determine his commitment, the walls were rebuilt!

Tonight, as our heads hit the pillow, let’s remember that motivation may ebb and flow, but purpose remains constant. Let’s embrace the truth that we are uniquely designed for our purpose, and quitting is not an option. God can help us cultivate the discipline needed to get out of bed and fulfill His given purpose. Just as Paul pressed on and Nehemiah persisted, may we too stand firm in our resolve to fulfill our purpose, regardless of how we feel.

 

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

How Eavesdropping Changed the Way I Live (the way we all should live)

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Several years ago I accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation I will never forget.

I was walking Jude to class and we took a shortcut across the first-grade blacktop. Children were busy playing hopscotch and four square, absorbed in their own asphalt worlds. Suddenly a little girl bolted from a nearby classroom and ran right in front of us toward another girl, shouting, “There’s a new student! We have a new student!”

Her friend lunged toward her with a skip and a hop. Eyes wide with delight, she shouted back, “A new student? In our class?”

The first friend nodded yes and both girls broke into glorious grins and galloped toward the brick building to welcome their new friend. Yes, it was beautifully obvious that they had already decided this new student would be their friend. Without knowing the student’s race or gender, whether they packed a lunch or would buy in the cafeteria, without knowing the color of their hair or if they wore glasses, before knowing if this student liked soccer or handball or My Little Pony, they wanted this student to be their friend. These girls didn’t need to know if the new student would get picked up by their dad or go to daycare, whether they were good at reading or math or needed extra help with everything . . . without knowing anything other than the promise of their presence, the two first graders unconditionally accepted their peer.

I wish I could have followed the girls inside that classroom to witness the moment that new student received their warm welcome. Would the gift of instant friends ease the knot in their stomach? Would the bright smiles of those eager to meet them turn nervous fidgeting into a shared grin? I think it’s safe to say that being enthusiastically accepted made a big difference in the new student’s day — maybe it even impacted their whole week, year, or school career.

I can’t help but wonder what life would be like if we all embraced someone new and unknown with the same excitement as those wide-eyed and tenderhearted six-year-olds. As adults, we like to wait and size people up. We’re tentative about opening our hearts, minds, or lives to others before going through a thorough checklist. Whether it’s intentional or subconscious, we go through an “Are you worthy of my attention and affection” evaluation.

We wait to see how many boxes a new person will tick that align with our preferences:

Personality
Education
Hobbies
Cultural expressions
Political or religious views
Career path
Family makeup and dynamics
Financial status
Culinary likes, dislikes, and skills
Do they have Disneyland hookups or a retail discount I could take advantage of?

We withhold our friendship until we know whether we will get along or if they always wear that much perfume. Have you ever been guilty of judging someone by a first impression? Maybe even assigning value based on their surface appearance? Gulp. I have. And if you’re honest, I’m guessing you’re not exempt either.

It’s not that every person needs to be a BFF or trusted confidant or an intimate part of our lives. But every person does deserve to be respected and treated with kindness. So rather than leading with subtle scrutiny and secret judgment, what if we made acceptance our default? What would happen if we automatically saw the new guy at work or the woman behind us at church, the family that just moved in next door, or the parent standing alone on the soccer sidelines as a welcomed new friend? What would happen if we treated every “new kid” (young or old ) as wanted, welcomed, delighted in?

Sit with that for a minute.

Often, when we think of encouragement, we think of building up, complimenting, or supporting the people already intertwined in our lives — our spouse or sibling, child or parent, coworker or best friend. That is so good and beautiful and necessary. But at its core, encouragement stems from the basic acknowledgment that every person deserves to be seen, valued, and accepted. So it’s not just the kind words we say, but the welcome that we live.

Here’s the great news: We can all be encouragers wherever we are, wherever we go! We can invite the new parent at the PTA meeting to sit next to us. We can hold the door for the mom whose arms are full of groceries and babies. We can smile wide and say hello to the neighbor who speaks a different language. We can leave a little potted plant on the new girl’s desk at work with a sticky note that says, “Welcome to the team. I’m here if you need anything.” We can acknowledge someone we cross paths with today, look them in the eye, and tell them we’re so glad they’re here.

After dropping Jude off, I walked back across the blacktop, through the freshly cut grass, and out the rear school gate with a smile stretched across my face. Two six-year-olds were simple difference makers — not only to the new students they welcomed but to me — a thirty-something woman who merely overheard their kindness was impacted. And now the ripple extends to you as I share their story. The students at Cullen Elementary School were there to learn, yet able to teach so much.

May the learning (and jump-for-joy encouraging welcome) continue with us.

This article is an adapted excerpt from Becky’s book The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact. Snag a copy for more heartwarming stories and practical ways to live a life of kindness and encouragement every day.

“Now may the God who gives endurance and encouragement grant you to live in harmony with one another, according to Christ Jesus, so that you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ with one mind and one voice. Therefore welcome one another, just as Christ also welcomed you, to the glory of God.”
Romans 15:5-7 CSB

September 12th is National Day of Encouragement, a day set aside to bring encouragement to others. As a valued member of the (in)courage and DaySpring community, we know you share encouragement all year round – thank you! We want to help you be ready to cheer on others not only on the National Day of Encouragement, but on any day.

Celebrate this fun day with us all month long; place an order at DaySpring.com and you’ll receive an exclusive National Day of Encouragement greeting card for free! The card includes a QR code to a FREE Bible reading plan as well. Spread God’s love with DaySpring’s selection of encouraging products and join us in celebrating the National Day of Encouragement!   

 

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