How Are You Really Doing with the “Other Stuff”?

How Are You Really Doing with the “Other Stuff”?

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A few weeks ago, I got sick with a fever that wouldn’t go away. On one of the worst nights of my sickness, I slipped away to the couch, so that my tossing and turning wouldn’t wake up my husband.

I tried ibuprofen. I tried Tylenol. I lit a fire in the fireplace. I tried cough drops and hot tea. And finally, the very last thing I tried was prayer.

I am not proud to say that prayer was my last line of offense.

I know I’m not alone in this. Sometimes, we don’t pray because we overestimate our self-sufficiency. Other times, we undervalue God’s concern to tend to the little things in our lives.

It goes like this:

We tend to grade matters by their seeming significance. Grade-A Matters are things like war, injustice, kids with cancer, and failing marriages. Those things are important and deserve our attention with prayer. But the truth is, even when the world at large is suffering, we’ve all got something going on – right this very second. And it all matters to God, even the things you think are Grade-D Matters.

Know this: God’s hands are large enough to hold all the Grade-D Matters – the late-night fevers, your concerns over your kids’ grades, that plumbing problem in the basement, or the fact that your friend hasn’t returned your texts.

So I have a question for you: How are you really doing right now with “the other stuff” going on in your life, the Grade-D Matters?

When something big happens in our world or our community, we tend to minimize “the other stuff.” We don’t want to burden our friends, or God, by letting them know what else hurts right now.

I’ve said it before, but there have been times in my life when I’ve been reluctant to share with my Bible study girls about an emotional struggle because someone else was just diagnosed with cancer. I categorized my pain as Grade-D, and hers as Grade-A.

I’ll tell myself things like, “I shouldn’t be this sad or worried. It could be worse.”

It’s also possible that you’ve been the victim of the “my life is harder than yours” game. It happens when you share your hard, but according to someone else, it isn’t hard enough compared to what they’re going through.

We do ourselves a disservice as sisters when we track each other’s pain along a scale, as if it can be easily categorized along one of those smiley-face charts on a doctor’s office wall.

Here’s the thing: God doesn’t stop caring about your “other stuff” just because other people, this nation, and this world are walking through really big trials. Hard things in other people’s lives do not negate the pain you are carrying personally:

With your finances.
With your baby’s erratic sleep schedule.
With your anxiety.
With the disagreement you had with your dad.
With the pressure of those deadlines.
With your ANYTHING.

Recently, I read Paul’s second letter to his buddy Timothy. He spends most of the letter writing about the big stuff: godlessness in the last days, suffering for the gospel, sound preaching. And then, toward the end, he gives Timothy a final instruction: “Bring the cloak that I left… also the books, and above all the parchments” (2 Timothy 4:13, ESV).

It’s the cloak that gets me.

At this point in the biblical narrative, Paul was an older fellow getting close to dying while locked up in a cold prison — and his only coat was many miles away.

I don’t know why that bit about the cloak is in there, but I do believe that Scripture is God-breathed, and that every word is there for a reason — even the hardest and weirdest parts of the Bible. Every word has something to teach us about God or ourselves.

I wonder if that tiny sentence about the cloak is one way that God is letting us know that the little things matter. Little things like coats, new tires for your car, your class schedule, your job, and a fever that won’t let up.

God is big enough to care about the little things.

Nothing is too big for our Lord. And nothing is too small either.

 

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Truth for Your Heart When It Feels Like Your Life Is Falling Apart

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I used to write songs as a way of soothing my soul’s sorrow. I would write the words my heart needed to hear, the words that I hoped God would say if He were sitting across from me at a café, drinking His coffee or whatever herbal tea He likes best. But, these days, writing songs doesn’t come easy. My kids call me constantly, my voice isn’t as strong as it used to be, dreams are falling apart, and life shouts demands with its to-dos and to-bes.

In this waiting, in this season of silence and seeking and shattering, it feels like everything is slowly falling apart. The routines and structures that once held me together have altogether come undone. Direction disorients and vision evades me. 

Life, as I know it, is changing. And rightfully so. My children are growing — they are hungry for food and desperate to learn more, live more. My body is broken and needs new ways of holding all that I am and healing. Our house, the borrowed walls that we call home, is two sizes too small to carry the developing story that my family is becoming.

We spin through the days bursting out of the seams, spilling wild and wide out of the containers that once held us. And it is messy, and there are no baskets or tidy corners to keep things as they should be, and we are in this limbo, this thin in-between, and we are so desperate to hear the Spirit say that all of this change is good.

That everything and everyone will be okay.

All I want for this thin in-between, this space of figuring things out, is to know that I am not failing my kids. I desperately want to know and believe that the things dying off are not causing destruction, that God is in all of this — every newly paved path and lost dream.

I abide, seeking out a single word, a single scripture verse to cling to. But then, a familiar melody comes to mind. A simple refrain that I wrote years back:

When you fall apart, you are falling into grace,
Can’t you see, how He holds us up, how He holds us into place?

The lyrics linger in my mind, and I try to think back to when and why I wrote this song. Try as I may, I cannot recall the season of life that I was in. However, this I can recall: it really is true. God holds us up, and He also holds us into place. He does this, even when all that we know shatters in and around us. Even while we are falling apart, we are falling into grace. Even while life is crumbling in ways that we cannot comprehend or control, His love for us still proves to be all that we need.

He holds us when we are in the deepest abyss where it is dark and the path before us is unknown and unseen. He holds us when we are afraid and unsure of where our next paycheck will come from. There is nothing too broken, nothing too beyond fixing for His hands. There isn’t a puzzle that cannot be put back together in and through His power. There is nothing too heavy for His heart; there is nothing too hard for Him to work out with His holy plan.

There is no depth too deep, no spiraling or shattering that will separate us from His loving hands. There is no circumstance too confusing, no pantry that He cannot fill with His provision, no broken body that He does not see, no song He cannot sustain with grace. . . through community, through His word, through thanksgiving, through miracles, through mundane moments, through His holy hands at work in and through our lives.

This is one song we can always be sure to sing — He will hold us up and He will hold our lives into place. No matter what shatters, no matter what surrounds us, He is good and He will ever guide us into His goodness.

 

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Step into the Future Knowing This

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Moses said to the Lord, “Look, you have told me, ‘Lead this people up,’ but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. You said, ‘I know you by name, and you have also found favor with me.’ Now if I have indeed found favor with you, please teach me your ways, and I will know you, so that I may find favor with you. Now consider that this nation is your people.”

And he replied, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”
Exodus 33:12-14 CSB

God tasks Moses with leading the people of Isreal out of Egypt where they were slaves and into the Promised Land where they will flourish. But Moses has all kinds of reasons why he isn’t the guy for the job. He’s not an eloquent speaker. He hasn’t assembled a strong leadership team. He doesn’t know where he will go or if the people will even want to follow.

But most of all, Moses is concerned about being alone. He knows the job is too much for him and he wants assurance that God will provide some help.

And how does God respond? “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”

What in your life today feels too much, too overwhelming for you?

Where do you feel called but underequipped?

Where are you afraid, overworked, or discouraged?

Tell God how you feel. Tell Him all about your impossible situation.

Then ask HIM to tell YOU all about your impossible situation.

God’s perspective will always trump our fears. His presence will always supersede our limitations. 

We can rest in Him.

 

 

The Fear of the Lord Is the Beginning of Freedom

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For three and a half months I felt like a balloon had swelled in my belly. Sometimes, sharp jolts would move through my colon and fold me over, my breath catching in my throat and my eyes widening in pain. It was the dead of summer in California’s Central Valley where temps often reach well over 105 degrees . . . and I couldn’t even put on a swimsuit, let alone button my jeans. 

Then finally, it had a name: Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). 

If you’ve ever experienced a digestive disorder like IBS, then you know it knocks the breath right out of you. When I’m in a season where I’m experiencing an IBS flare (like I was for those three and a half months), it can be all I think about: the planning around meals, the invitations to lunch or dinner with friends, the sudden need to go to the bathroom, or taking triple the time to figure out what to wear because I can’t fit into anything. 

Sometimes, I hear whispers in my heart telling me how much I hate my body, and it takes the breath right out of me. . .

“What do I need to do? How do I manage this?” I desperately asked my doctor after she delivered the diagnosis.  

“You need to limit the amount of stress in your life,” she replied.  

I was at a loss. I thought I’d done everything right — I was in therapy, I’d set the appropriate relational boundaries, I started doing Pilates and breath work, I nourished my body, removed the irritating foods, watched my caffeine intake, prayed, read my Bible, and went to church.  

What else was I supposed to do? 

“That means I’ll have to quit my job.” The words fell out of my mouth before I could even think about them.  

Quit my job? But my job’s not stressful. And where else can I go? This is all I know. 

It was a fight with denial and pride to realize the effect my job was having on my body. I’m a chronic minimizer and a lifelong church kid. I learned that we’re to “crucify our flesh” and make our bodies our slaves for the sake of our cause.  

But it wasn’t true that my job wasn’t stressful. I drove home in tears, knowing in my gut that the time to leave this job was coming. After the IBS diagnosis, I heard author Annie F. Downs say on her Instagram that she’d asked God to remove everything that was “sick or secret” from her life. Surprise and a sob welled up in my throat as I listened. 

Me too, God. Please, I want everything sick and secret out of my life.  

I was done dealing with this sick body and tired of minimizing myself. I wanted the truth, and I wanted freedom. 

Mercifully, the Lord showed me the truth very quickly. I finally realized the environment I worked in was growing increasingly hostile. In time, the stress and anxiety in my gut would move to my chest, giving me chest pains every day I went to work for weeks on end. I found myself disassociating from my body just to get through the day, staring at my computer like a deer in headlights and unable to follow along in a conversation.  

But did I leave? No.  

I’ll leave as soon as I find another job, I promised myself and God.  

One month went by. Then two. Then three. Still, no job. And still, I was sick. Then, one day, in the middle of all of this, I read Psalm 147:10-11, and it came alive before me: 

“He is not impressed by the strength of a horse; he does not value the power of a warrior. The Lord values those who fear him, those who put their hope in his faithful love.”
Psalm 147:10-11 (CSB)

I sensed the Lord asking me, “Do you fear Me more than you fear leaving your job?”  

The question was so gentle, so kind. This gracious rebuke didn’t leave me feeling shamed or condemned, but resolved and confident in my God who was offering me His faithful love.  

“No,” I confessed. “I’ve feared everything else before I’ve feared You.”

It was a simple exchange of exposure, confession, and repentance. I didn’t even cry. But I sure felt fortified by it.

It wasn’t up to me to provide for myself or to fix what was going on at work. I didn’t have to muscle my way to find a job I would feel safe in, where I could heal and come alive again. There would be no ribbon or trophy for impressing God. Maybe I’d impress my parents, but not my God.  

Two days after this exchange with God, I resigned. No job lined up. At the time of this writing, I still don’t have a job. But in fearing this outrageously good and faithful God, I have found that, even if everything else fails, I still have Him.

I know relief in my body like I’ve never known — and I have a peace and hope that can only be found in God . . . the One who longs to show me His faithful love.

Simple Surrender Prayers for When You Need to Get Out of Your Own Way

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“I can’t take it anymore, God! Why aren’t you helping me?”

The weight of life squeezed out the last shred of belief that God cared about me. What looked like the end of my faith came in the form of a denial from my insurance company. I had noticed some developmental delays in my five-year-old child. Once my concerns were confirmed, I sprung into mama bear mode, clawing, roaring, and looking for the answers to save my precious cub. I learned about a diagnostic test that would provide the lifeline of information we needed. Yes! All of my tireless hard work was about to pay off.

When the coverage denial came a few weeks later, it felt like a bullet too close to my mama bear heart. I slumped on my kitchen floor, crying out, Why God? I’d prayed fervently for God to move the insurance company to approve that test. God must have seen how hard I’d worked to find a solution. All He had to do was move the insurance assessor to say yes. That disappointment turned into a tipping point in my faith. After years of being what I thought was a good Christian, I was disappointed that God didn’t answer my prayer. I wondered if faith was even worth it.

An uncomfortable a-ha moment surfaced when I realized that I’d been treating God like an employee in my problem-solving instead of letting Him lead. Instead of seeking God first before running around for answers, I figured out what I wanted to do and then I told God what I wanted Him to do.

My prayers were more about expecting God to finish my work instead of stopping to seek His will.

In my effort to control the situation, I lost sight of the power, character, and sovereignty of God. This verse is a powerful reminder that God isn’t like us and He doesn’t work like we do:

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord. “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.”
Isaiah 55:8 (NLT)

Just as the people God spoke to in the above verse believed that following their own path was best, I’d done the same thing. They ended up in a bad place, and I did, too. My efforts to fix my problems didn’t bring me peace, only anxiety, anger, and what looked like the end of my faith. Yet, God’s words in Isaiah 55:8 are not only a declaration of God’s character, but also an invitation for those of us who’ve forgotten how big God truly is.

On that day on my kitchen floor, I uttered a new prayer that signified that I would remember that God was bigger than my biggest problems. It was a solid first step toward remembering that God was in control, and I was not:

“If it’s gonna get done, then God, You’re gonna have to do it.”

Years later, I’d come to realize that this was my first intentional act of surrender. Surrender isn’t a popular topic. Perhaps, because it’s often misunderstood. Surrender doesn’t mean that we’re giving in to hopelessness or defeat. Rather, surrender is giving over what we can’t control to God, who not only knows more than we do, but is bigger than we are and actually has control.

There’s a bonus: When we surrender, God will give us the gift of His peace.

Is there a problem or person that you need to surrender to God? It’s hard to admit that you are powerless, but it’s even harder to live with the fear and frustration of what you can’t control. If you need to take the first step, you can start with another simple Surrender Prayer: God, I can’t. But You can. So, I will let You.

There’s an interesting end to the story of the day I almost walked away from my faith: A few minutes after praying my surrender prayer, my phone rang. It was the administrative assistant from my child’s school who said, “Oh, I’m so glad that I got you. We wanted to let you know that you don’t need your insurance company to pay for your child’s test. There’s a fund at the school that pays for that kind of testing.” I hung up the phone in shock.

Of course, not every prayer is answered so quickly or in accordance with our desired outcome. But, as I reflect on God’s timing in answering that prayer, I believe He was saying to me, “Barb, if it’s gonna get done, I’m going to do it – and I don’t need your help.” In that gracious moment, God wanted me to be clear that He was bigger and more powerful than my biggest problem and I could trust Him.

Surrender doesn’t guarantee that God will answer instantly, nor does it mean that God will behave as you want. It does mean that you can trust God to be faithful, loving, and gracious, no matter the outcome.

 

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Life Doesn’t Have to Be a Battle

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My son and I fight a lot. It’s not easy to admit, but we see the world so differently. He is strong. I am not. He is outspoken. I am not. He is opinionated. I am opinionated. Since he came screaming out of me sixteen years ago, he’s been a fighter. After all this time, I’m weary.

In my weariness, I get defensive. I get angry. I want to demand my voice be heard. I want to make him see my point of view and why it’s right.

I tend to force things. I can be stubborn. I want what I want. I’ve spent a lot of my life “forcing” things. I’ve done this with jobs I wanted. I push and push and push because I’m afraid of not getting what I want. I’ve done this with things, opportunities, and people.

When I’m afraid, I force my way forward.

I’m reminded of so many figures in the Bible who forced things too. Sarah was afraid of not conceiving and forced her husband to sleep with her servant, Hagar. Moses used force, Judah used force, and Peter used force — all when they were faced with a fearful situation. But, when I react to my fear by forcing my way forward, I usually end up hurting myself or others.

Life doesn’t have to be a battle. We don’t have to fight to get ahead or fear falling behind. Instead, we can surrender. We can let go of life on our terms. As fear rises, we can refuse to put on our boxing gloves and instead lean on Jesus.

I usually deal with my fear by using my own strength. When I sense my soul tensing up for a fight, I’ve learned to listen to the invitation to relax. I can enter my fear with Jesus. Like a litany, I live these words: soul, be still.

Don’t force the doors of opportunity to open. Don’t force people to relate in ways that only work for you. Don’t push to get your way. Trust that the Lord is always present and will always lead you to love and be loved.

“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid.”
Isaiah 12:2 NIV

by Anjuli Paschall, as published in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle

Our new book, 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle, will take you on a journey of learning to see God clearer and to know Him deeper in the middle of your struggles. As you experience pain, move through daily challenges, or get bogged down by anxieties big or small, you’ll learn to find Him right in the middle of it, ready to strengthen you and give you rest. 

In this beautiful book, you’ll find:

  • Relatable stories from all of your favorite (in)courage writers
  • 100 life-line Scriptures to recenter your focus
  • Journaling space to write your thoughts or prayers
  • A place to record how God is strengthening you every day!

It’s a devotional journal that will feel like sitting down with dearest friends and seeking God together in the middle of your mess or struggle.

Order your copy today; we cannot wait for you to read this book.

 

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He Believed Her

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What was the most shocking, scandalous thing Jesus did?

Some would say Jesus was scandalous for pursuing the woman who’d bled for twelve years. At that time, in her condition, she was considered untouchable. Because being on her period made her unclean, anyone who came into contact with her would also be unclean.

Some would say it was the way Jesus honored her. He told her that it was her faith that healed her. He said that not only did He see her among the crowd, but also that she was worth healing.

But after going through some of my own health struggles as well as watching my friends endure health struggles, here is what stands out as one of the most shocking things that Jesus did for the bleeding woman:

He believed her.

And why is Jesus’ belief so shocking? Because in 2024, we still don’t believe women and their pain.

The Journal of the American Heart Association reported that women who visited emergency departments with chest pain waited twenty-nine percent longer than men to be evaluated for possible heart attacks.

Another study presented in the Journal of Women’s Health showed that middle-aged women with chest pain and other symptoms of heart disease were twice as likely to be diagnosed with a mental illness compared with men who had the same symptoms.

If this is where we stand with believing women and their pain today, think of how radical it was to believe a woman, especially with what we still weirdly call a “woman’s issue,” in Jesus’s day.

I’ll never forget going in for a procedure with my gynecologist and having to stop it because it hurt so much. The doctor assured me that it should not be painful and tried to keep going. I finally said that he had to stop. He didn’t believe me, and, equally importantly, he didn’t seem to care that I was in pain. I avoided going back to the doctor for years because I just couldn’t bear that misery again.

Over a year later, I went to a new doctor, practically in tears, and told her why I had gone so long without seeing anyone. I told her about my fear of the pain surrounding this procedure. Then she asked me, “Is there a reason you don’t want to be put under anesthesia for this?” I told her that I didn’t know anesthesia was an option.

Disgust flashed on her face when she realized the other doctor didn’t offer that as a solution. “I have a lot of patients who need to be under anesthesia during this procedure because it can be quite painful. Let’s get you scheduled.”

And now, I was crying for a different reason — this time, not out of fear, but out of relief that someone believed me.

And because she believed my pain, I knew that she saw me as more than a procedure to get off her books. She saw me as a human who shouldn’t have to suffer needlessly. She not only believed me, but she also cared for me.

I know that there are times I have not brought some of my pain to God because “It’s probably not that serious,” or “Others can probably handle this. Why can’t I?”

I hesitate to approach God because I can forget how much he cares for me and that He is not discounting my pain. Like I did with the gynecologist for too long, we keep our worries and deal with them ourselves.

But Peter assures us that we don’t have to deal with our pain and worries by ourselves: “Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you” (1 Peter 5:7 NLT).

It’s such a simple verse. Most of the time we’re told, “Don’t worry. You can trust God,” which, I’m not going to lie, feels very hollow when I’m in pain.

But there is a powerful addition to “trust God” in this verse: “For he cares about you.”

When you go to Him with your struggles and pain, He doesn’t think you’re exaggerating or being a drama queen, or just too emotional or hormonal. There are people in authority — doctors, parents, church leaders — who will sometimes fail. They will not believe you. They will not care for you in the way they should.

This is never, ever God.

He cares about your struggles.

He cares about your pain.

He cares about you.

And He believes you.

Want to read more about how Kathi has learned to give her worries to God in the mountains? Click here to check out Kathi’s book, The Accidental Homesteader.

 

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Welcoming Jesus into Your Heart and Home

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While they were traveling, He entered a village, and a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home.
Luke 10:38 CSB

Don’t you just love a good dinner party?

After a warm invitation is extended and accepted, it’s time to pick out the menu and straighten up the home — fluff the pillows, sweep the floor, and set the table. Whether the meal is homemade or catered, it doesn’t matter. Because the most important part of the evening is simply when friends gather around the table and allow the conversation and laughter to flow as the night progresses.

Eventually, goodbyes are said at the door with promises to do it again soon. And even though we are left with a kitchen full of dirty dishes, we typically find that after opening our homes to others, our hearts are just as full as our stomachs.

Martha must have felt the same way when the time came for her to bid farewell to her cherished guests. As the head of the house that she shared with Mary and Lazarus, her sister and brother, Martha was certainly known for her hospitality in the village of Bethany. She was very much in charge and was willing to receive guests into her home, even if her guest of honor came traveling with a clan of twelve other men.

The gospel of Luke records that Martha welcomed Jesus into her home. She didn’t begrudgingly open the door for Him and His disciples. No. She wanted His presence to fill her home, and thus she swung wide open the door to host Him. As Jesus placed one holy foot and then another onto her property, did Martha feel the atmosphere shift? Could she feel the peace that only He provides permeate her home? Can you imagine what it must have felt like to welcome the Son of God into your home for a dinner party? I bet she never wanted to say goodbye to this special guest.

Perhaps the first time Martha opened her door to Jesus, she was curious to see if He truly was the Son of God, and perhaps you are wondering the same thing today.

In Revelation 3:20 (NLT), Jesus said, “Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear My voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.” Jesus gives each one of us the same invitation. He stands at the door of our hearts and knocks, but it’s up to us whether or not we open the door and welcome Him into our lives.

He will not force Himself through the door, but oh, how He wants to have dinner with us! He, too, loves a good dinner party and wants to bring His peace and salvation as He comes to reside and rest in our hearts. But the question is, will we let Him in? It’s only when we wholeheartedly welcome Him into our day-to-day routines that we will truly find rest.

Is Jesus knocking at the door of your heart? If you’re honest with yourself, have you let Him all the way in? Even into your messy kitchen? What is holding you back from opening your heart to Him all the way?

Let’s Pray:
Jesus, what a privilege it is to take this walk of faith with You. I ask You to come and meet me as I commit to walk alongside Mary, Martha, and You. Reveal to me things that are keeping me from resting in You, and make known to me anything that is hindering Your peace from resting on me. I give You permission to come into every aspect of my life. I open the door of my heart fully to You — even the messy parts that I would rather remain hidden. Teach me to embrace a lifestyle that is authentic and transparent, knowing that with You I can be the best version of myself if I am willing to let You in. Today I resolve to hold nothing back, knowing that You didn’t hold anything back from me whenever You came to die for my sins. I declare that You are the Son of God, and it is my greatest delight to have You in my heart and home. There is nothing better than having dinner with You as my Savior and Friend. You are so very welcome in this place. Amen.

—

Resting in Jesus: A 30-Day Walk with Mary and Martha is a devotional guide by April Rodgers on the art of letting go of daily chaos to find perfect peace in Christ.

When our phones are pinging, children are crying, emails are pouring in, and the refrigerator is empty, finding time to rest in Jesus can seem like a near-impossible task. If we aren’t being productive, we feel like missing out and falling behind. But Christ invites us to sit at His feet, especially during our daily chaos.

The example of Mary and Martha offers us a picture of how God understands not only what we’re going through, but where our priorities really need to be. Resting in Christ is not a luxury, it’s a necessity… and it informs everything else that we do. This devotional will guide readers on the journey to discovering the art of being still before God — and releasing their cares to the One who cares for them.

We know Resting in Jesus will be a blessing in your life, or the life of someone you love.

Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN a copy*!

Then join Becky Keife this weekend on the (in)courage podcast for a conversation with April. Don’t miss it!

 

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

 

*Giveaway open until 11:59 pm on 2/25/24 to US addresses only. Winners will be contacted via email.

God Will Not Walk Away

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Have you ever heard someone say, “I used to hate running, but I just kept going and now I love it!”?

That is not my story.

In January of 2022, I drove to my local trail, made sure the running app would sound an alert the very second I hit 1.00 miles, took a few deep breaths, and then . . . I ran.

I ran as fast as I could and I refused to stop, determined to see it through.

But this story goes back further, stretching to a December 2020 decision, the thread weaving through years and eventually finding its way to February 2024.

At the end of 2020, I set a daily step count goal for 2021 that felt, shall we say, daunting. Showing up for my people is a joy, but if I’m brutally honest, historically I struggle to show up for myself. The goal was doable, though. Difficult, but doable. Rain or shine, traveling for funerals or recovering from surgery, I didn’t miss a single day all year.

When 2021 came to a close and I wrote out unexpected gifts from the year, “walking” topped the list. The seemingly ordinary rhythm was actually so much more. It was a daily choice, a promise kept, an intentional showing up. Do I go for round two? I wondered. Or maybe I should set a new goal?

The idea arrived instantly and it sounded terrible: Run one mile fifty-two times in 2022.

For many, one mile is barely a warm-up. Again, that is not my story. My favorite thing about running is when it’s over. But it was the literal next step, a difficult but doable goal, one way that I could show up and choose hope right here in the body that I have – this broken, beautiful, strong body that struggles with a chronic health condition that impacts every single day.

Each week, I tied my tennis shoes and hit the pavement. Jordan Sparks sang “This is my now, I am living in the moment!” and I pumped my arms. Keala Settle belted ‘This Is Me’ from The Greatest Showman and I refrained from sing-shouting along as I counted the seconds.

Months later, I began another weekly rhythm: a new treatment that might turn things around, and heal what broke twelve years prior. I dared to get my hopes up and, for the first time, publicly shared part of the daily struggle.

By July, I knew it wasn’t working. By September, I knew it made things worse. Yet week after week, I ran while sweating and repeating, “One more step. Okay, now one more. I’m proud of you for showing up.”

Something in me needed to see that this breaking, hurting body could still show up with bravery for the next step and hope for tomorrow.

On December 16th, I ran mile fifty-two. I hit my fastest time, nearly four minutes less than where I began in January. I cried. I almost threw up. I could barely wipe the smile off my face.

Two rhythms wove their way through 2022, and I’m only sharing now to set the scene so this rings loud and clear:

No matter how broken or weary, worn down or disappointed or sad you feel . . .

Whether you recently crushed a goal or you feel like something is crushing you . . .

You are completely, absolutely, outrageously, fully loved. Just as you are, today, right now.

Yes, I’m proud of the girl who ran through 2022. She did what felt impossible, in a body that was breaking, and the running app tells the story. But more than that, I’m proud of the girl who ran exactly 0.0 miles in 2023. She kept showing up when her heart was broken, and she’s still here to see what story the next page will tell.

Maybe your 2024 is off to a great start. Maybe it’s February 19th and this year has already wiped you out. Or maybe you’re somewhere in between, taking small steps forward with hope and a heavy heart.

I don’t know what path you’re on — if you’re blazing a trail or if getting out of bed is today’s win — but I do know this: you are fully seen and fully loved right here, right now, no matter what.

Isaiah 40:31 makes this promise: “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint” (NIV).

For years, the order confused me. But after the last few years, I’m comforted by this truth: God is not disappointed in our pace. He’s just as near when we take a step toward a goal as when we slowly walk the trails we used to run while tears run down, creating a trail of their own.

He’s here, present, strengthening us for the day even when that’s all we can face.

The road may stretch on, but God With Us will not walk away. One step at a time, He’ll bring us all the way Home.

If today’s post resonated and you’d like more encouragement, 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 wherever you stream podcasts.

The List You Need to Set Your Mind on Today

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Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.
Colossians 3:2 CSB

What do you spend your time thinking about? Your answer is probably a long list of hopes and dreams, fleeting worries and deep concerns, hard and holy and mundane things.

Maybe today you’re thinking about how challenging parenting is or how desperate you are for a different career. Maybe your mind is spiraling with anxiety or you just feel numb with depression. Perhaps you’re focused on your new year goals, hoping that your hard work and planning will pay off in a particular way. Perhaps you can’t think of anything else but your physical pain.

Whatever is going through your mind today, Scripture calls us to set our minds on things above, not on earthly things.

This begs the question: What is above?

Heaven.
God’s full presence.
His power.
His throne room where He hears our prayers.
The Father’s house with many rooms, which He is preparing for us right now.
A place of healing.
A place without tears.
A place of wonder and worship.
Forever belonging.
Peace.
Rest.
Perfect love.

Take a deep breath and read that list again. What would you add?

We don’t even need to answer the second question, “What are earthly things?”. We are keenly aware of our troubles and sorrow, the brokenness that surrounds us and wreaks havoc within us. God isn’t calling us to ignore these things or pretend they aren’t real or don’t have an immediate impact on our lives.

Rather, He is inviting us to set our minds — fix our thoughts, determine our focus — on Him, despite what’s happening here on earth. Because He is where our hope and joy live.

 

When Winter Outstays Its Welcome

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Winter in New England is idyllic. The world I live in is reminiscent of L.L.Bean magazines and Robert Frost poems. November enters quietly with early morning frosts and snow flurries. December settles in comfortably with a white blanket on the cold earth, usually just in time for Christmas. January’s piercing blue skies make our northern snow globe sparkle. It’s pure magic.

But then February and March show up, and everyone is done with the snow turning brown on the corners of the road. The charm has worn off — we are tired of shoveling. Winter outstays its welcome . . . and we get antsy for warmer weather.

Almost six years ago, a white blanket of winter settled over my life. A chronic illness I’d battled for years avalanched into symptoms worse than I’d dreamed — and I was buried. I found myself shoveling an insurmountable world of snow, with nowhere to put it and no end in sight. As I looked around at my new reality, iced in by limitations that took away life as I knew it, I felt the pain. But I also felt the Holy Spirit near to me, a “very present help in trouble.”

Suffering is never idyllic, but the snow in that season of life still sparkled. God showed me how he flipped my suffering and used it for good. He used it in my friends’ lives as they watched my world crumble and wondered where my hope was. The spiritual conversations with classmates — and even strangers — were new and exciting as I pointed to Christ’s beautiful gospel. God sanctified me, pulling out sin tendencies and idols that we needed to burn.

He softened and sharpened me. He proved to me over and over that He could be trusted. He used my suffering to change my career path, inviting me into a ministry that fit the contours of my heart better than any of my prior plans. I was snowed in, but I could see the beauty of the storm. It held its magic. That was my November, December, and January . . . but it’s been five and a half years.

“God has taught me so much,” I told my pastor. “But I’m ready to move on.”

I want to drive long distances with ease again, have full days without resting, and be able to start a family. There are dreams unfulfilled that I’m reaching out for. I’m longing for warmer weather, normalcy, and healing. I am in March, shoveling dirty snow, and I just want to put down the shovel.

Perhaps you are in a season where suffering clings close, falling thick and fast like flurrying flakes. Perhaps you’ve been caught in an avalanche or ice storm. Are you in your November, just beginning to feel the earth harden? Are you in your December or January, shivering in the sea of snow but still seeing the sparkle? Or, like me, are you in the months that you expected to be spring, cursing the muddy snow that mucks up your life?

If you are longing for summer’s sun to melt the suffering of life, I see you. God sees you. And from one suffering saint to another, here is what I know right now:

I know that God mourns with me and catches my tears in a bottle.

I know that His comfort will carry me through even though I walk through the valley.

I know that God redeems suffering, and that all things work together for good for those who love Him. And . . . I also know that “my good” may not look like healing on this side of heaven. Even still, my greatest good is to be with God — and if my suffering pulls me closer to Him, then hallelujah anyway.

I know that nothing — absolutely nothing — will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

I know that God is the author of my story, and I fully trust Him with the pen because the beauty, depth, honor, and purity of the work He produces is so beyond what I could ever write for myself.

I know that I will one day be healed, and that God will wipe away every tear and death shall be no more.

Dear suffering saint, God is with you in the storm, keeping you safe and warm through all your seasons. He is, indeed, a “very present help in trouble.” When we throw down our shovels in despair, He looks us in the eyes with all the tenderness of a loving Father and picks it up Himself. It was never ours to carry anyway. . .

Join me in giving the shovel to God. You can rest in His strong arms; you can trust Him with your life.

Even in the winter, the warmth of His care is warmer than any summer day.

Why You Might Need an Identity Refresher

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I didn’t think I had an issue with identity.

I’ve always been a pretty self-assured person, confidently marching to the beat of my own awkward drum. In elementary school, I liked wearing dinosaur tennis shoes and a pink neon tank top. Later, I was one of those rare creatures who actually liked middle school. I liked learning and boys and playing the trumpet in band. And I was blissfully unaware of how greasy my bangs were.

Not that I was without insecurities. In high school, I worried my skin was too pasty and my zits too many. I worried about pleasing people and performing well. Even so, I more or less knew and loved who I was.

Entering young adulthood and now into my forties, I’ve been lucky never to have had a crisis of faith or identity – save for those early years of motherhood where I felt like my existence had been reduced to a butt wiper and milk machine. (Yes, I love my children and believe it’s a privilege to care for them. Some seasons are just extra hard.)

But when it comes to my core identity, I’ve always felt confident in who I am as a person loved by God and created in His image. Like, check. Got it. Thanks, God. I’m good.

So when I was recently sharing with a friend about a deep struggle I was having with body issues, I was surprised when she told me that her sense from the Lord was that my issue actually had nothing to do with weight or aging but with identity.

Huh?

It felt very much like my issue had to do with the thirty pounds I’d gained and my feelings about that.

But over the days and weeks that followed that conversation, I asked the Lord to show me if there was something to this identity stuff. Bit by bit, through a podcast here and a Scripture there, God started unfolding new pieces to the puzzle of my soul.

I knew I was saved by God, but I was beginning to grasp in a deeper way how much I was loved by God. I was starting to understand that the way I see myself directly impacts the way I see God.

It’s true: What we believe about ourselves directly impacts what we believe about God. Do you believe that? Here are just two examples of how this shakes out:

  1. If I believe I am ugly or stupid, then I also believe that God made a mistake in how he made me.
  2. If I believe I’m loved because of how I look or what I accomplish, then I also believe that God’s love is conditional and not enough for me.

See how that works?

We have to ask God to reveal to us false beliefs about ourselves that have, often unconsciously, taken root in our hearts. And then ask Him to help us exchange those false beliefs for His truth.

A couple of weeks ago, I asked God to speak into my identity, to show me who He says I am. This is what I felt prompted to write in my journal…

I am God’s daughter. The King’s daughter. The Princess has the King’s divine affection. She has unobstructed access to Her Father. She knows His power but she also knows His love — for her, for His people, for His kingdom. There is no length the King wouldn’t go to to rescue His daughter. All He has is available to her; it’s her future inheritance and her present access. Why would the King’s daughter suffer and struggle and strive alone when she has FULL access to her Father’s resources, riches, and influence? But most importantly, access to the King’s wisdom, counsel, and support!

The King’s daughter knows the privilege, joy, and responsibility of being in the Father’s family — a royal and set-apart people. She is constantly aware of her princess identity. She continually looks to her Father; she is secure in His approval and delight over her. Even if everyone in the kingdom disagrees with or devalues her, the King’s blessing is all she needs.

Yes, His crown of blessing marks her identity. She is a beloved daughter — precious and protected — but she is also a royal warrior.

She holds the King’s shield and sword. She is marked by His seal. She wears His full armor. She is a formidable force against the enemy. No harm will come to her as the King and His powerful army stand with and around her. She never fights alone. Yes, she never even sleeps alone — her Father’s soldiers are always standing guard. What a miracle to be the King’s daughter.

That is who I am.

Friend, that is who you are too! If you’ve accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior then you are a co-heir with Christ, an adopted daughter of the Most High King! Don’t just read those words. Let them really sink in. You have access to all that Jesus is and all that He has.

And above all, you are so, so loved.

“I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.”
Ephesians 1:18-19 NIV

Need more help seeing yourself the way God sees you? Subscribe to Becky’s new podcast, Hope and Reason, where you’ll hear real stories of God’s real impact on our lives and be reminded of how deeply you are loved.

 

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

Embracing Endings for New Beginnings

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I’ve often found it challenging to bid farewell to the familiar, especially in relationships. I have tended to wait until something terrible happens, providing me with an excuse to escape. Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that remaining in a relationship or community past its appointed season is debilitating.

For example, I chose to remain in a friendship with an ex-boyfriend after we’d ended our relationship. He invited me to attend a formal banquet event. I saw no harm in attending; after all, we were just friends. During the event, he invited me on stage and surprised me with a marriage proposal! I was livid. So as not to embarrass him, I accepted his public proposal. After the event, devastated, dumbfounded, and discouraged, I told him that I could not marry him. It was a long road to recovery that could have been avoided if I had completely let go when we ended our relationship.

You would think I learned my lesson. But no, I still had not learned to embrace endings. Later, I had a dear friend with whom I shared a sister-like bond. Over time, as my singlehood shifted into dating, marriage, and children, she became more bitter about being single. Projecting her frustrations onto me, our friendship warped into her consistently wanting me to mourn with her, as she found every excuse to avoid rejoicing with me. After years of this type of dysfunction, long past its expiration date, our messy friendship ended when I learned she was being disrespectful to my young daughter. 

It took an adult being ugly to my toddler for me to fully understand and embrace endings.

In the tapestry of our lives, seasons change, and chapters come to a close — even good chapters. It’s often difficult to bid farewell to the familiar, especially in relationships. The journey of letting go is a challenging but essential part of the human experience. But I have finally learned to see the beauty of endings in anticipation of the promise new beginnings bring.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.”
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 NIV

This passage from Ecclesiastes beautifully captures the essence of life’s cyclical nature. Just as the seasons change, so do the seasons of our lives. Embracing this truth can be challenging, especially when we find ourselves holding onto relationships, a job, a role, a mindset, habits, practices, beliefs, or anything that has been good for us or served a special purpose. 

Endings are not failures; they are opportunities for growth. Just as a tree sheds its leaves in the autumn to make way for new growth in the spring, we too must go through a time of shedding to make room for the new beginnings that await us. 

During a challenging period, the prophet, Isaiah reassures the people of Israel that God is about to do something new in their lives. “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. 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 43:18-19 NIV).

God encourages us to let go of the past as an indicator of things to come – to look forward to the new things He is doing in our lives. Embracing endings requires trust in His divine plan. Just as a gardener prunes a plant for it to bear more fruit, sometimes we need to prune certain things in our lives to make room for the new blessings that God wants to bestow upon us.

Nevertheless learning to accept and embrace endings has not made it easier to end my season with (in)courage. As I write this, my last (in)story, I am grateful that I no longer need trauma to prompt a release. Thank God! While letting go is painful, I can embrace this ending as a beautiful beginning. I would appreciate your prayers for my ‘new next.’

As you navigate the endings in your life, remember that God is with you, guiding you through the transitions. Release the fear of letting go and step into the hope of a new season.

Endings are not conclusions; they are the prologue to the beautiful story God is unfolding in your life.

Heavenly Father, give us the strength to let go when it is time. Help us to trust in Your plan for our lives, knowing that endings are the gateway to new beginnings. May we find solace in Your presence during times of transition and embrace the opportunities for growth that arise from letting go.

 

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

When the Stranger Danger Bunch Shows Up

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I walked through our front door and my husband tentatively inquired, “Well, how did your evening go?”

An astounded grin spread across my face, “Won’t He do it! This was the craziest experience, but “Stranger Danger” night was a total success.”

Yes, you read that right. For the last three months, I’ve lovingly coined this new group of women as the “Stranger Danger Bunch.” On a random Monday night, I swung wide our garage (turned hospitality “barn”) door, and dozens of brave women representing varying social, political, religious, and economic backgrounds showed up at a complete stranger’s cottage in the country (mine).

How does that even happen? My crazy God story started this past November when my minimalist daughter encouraged me to part ways with old furniture. Our local area has a “Buy Nothing” Facebook group where strangers give, share, lend, and ask for what they want. It’s an online gifting movement and it felt wonderful to share my loved items with those looking for something similar. God’s perfect decluttering timing is critical to note since one day earlier or one day later, and I would have missed reading this short online request from a local lady.

“Would someone please teach me to crochet? I am very clumsy, but always wanted to learn…”

I don’t know why I paused. I don’t crochet. I don’t have the desire to crochet, nor time to crochet, but the bravery of a stranger sharing her vulnerable request for in-person help from an online world sparked something deep within me. Not only did I want to meet and hug this woman, but I yearned to be in the front row cheering her on. I’ve found compassion only becomes truly effective when it becomes collective and, in that instant, my dream was to be a crochet expert. But I wasn’t.

Scrolling by her request made the most sense, yet I couldn’t let it go. An ache echoed in her written wish and I wanted to make a difference.

Paul already knew the answer. “Here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life — your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life — and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him” (Romans 12:1 MSG).

So what’s my offering in this request? I may not crochet, but I can warmly gather women in community, make connections, provide simple snacks, and be the best cheerleader ever. That’s something every single one of us can do. When we link arms and encourage other women (yes, even strangers), we encounter the Holy Spirit’s powerful force of living on a mission.

I preached to myself the words I penned in Just Open the Door: How One Invitation Can Change a Generation:

“He has called, equipped, and appointed us to do amazing things right where we are — in whatever role we work or serve. Look for those opportunities. Pay attention and seize those moments. At school, at the grocery store, with neighbors, or wherever, you have the opportunity to be the difference in someone’s seemingly ordinary day.”

So I seized the moment because this conviction created action. Passivity wasn’t an option.

“I don’t know how to crochet, but I have a gathering ‘barn’ where we can meet. I’m all about neighboring well and meeting new friends. I’d love to host you if anyone is interested.”

I expected two or three women to respond, but by the end of that day, twenty-eight women expressed interest. Gracious women I’d never met stepped up to teach and within days, that post had over one hundred comments. Women yearned for something more than just crafting, but this creativity served as the offering. Five days later, I opened the door to thirty-one women from ages twelve to eighty-four. Mothers and daughters, a few friend duos, but many came solo, lonely and hungry for connection.

As I made the inaugural welcome to the group, I raised my arms and broke the ice. “I’m so proud of us all. We are so brave for taking this risk. You’re my stranger danger bunch.”

What started as one Facebook request has evolved into a monthly community gathering of women helping and encouraging other women (and new people are joining every month).

I still shake my head in amazement over the life-giving stories taking place behind the scenes. It’s proof positive that the Lord has given us everything we need to walk a road of welcome in our everyday lives. It isn’t about popularity or personality. None of these women knew me. It was a total faith walk and while tempted, I couldn’t allow apathy or doubt to get in the way. We often overthink living on a mission. It’s about starting exactly with how God made you, right where He’s put you, right now because we can be the difference even with something as crazy as a crochet hook. No excuses. He’s up to something on this gravel road of mine and I’m hanging on for the ride.

P.S. If you’re in North Carolina, I’m saving you a seat at the Becoming Cottage. Next month, we’re learning about gardening, followed by painting, and then CPR. I’d love for you to meet this group of strangers turning friends or better yet, start your own Stranger Danger Bunch.

 

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

Jesus Is Our Rescuer

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For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
John 3:17 ESV

My career as a firefighter taught me that when something is on fire, the most important person is the one on the nozzle.

Sure, there are quite a few people involved in the operation, and the one on the nozzle can’t do it alone. A fire crew is like a well-oiled machine. There needs to be someone who unrolls the hose, someone who pumps water from the engine, and even someone ready to bust open a door with an ax.

But despite all that teamwork, I still say the one on the nozzle is the MVF (Most Valuable Firefighter). For the fire to die, there needs to be one person smashing it down with an incredibly powerful jet of water. The one holding the nozzle and directing the water has the power to completely transform a tragedy.

In my experience, it’s the same with Jesus.

There are so many “fires” in our lives. Losing a job. Dealing with chronic pain. A child who seems to be on the wrong path. Divorce. Cancer.

We can’t fight fires like that on our own. And we can’t always count on fighting those fires in community. Community is essential, but we humans are never perfect. Sometimes we let each other down. Sometimes we even betray each other.

Which is why we need Jesus. He’s the only One who will never let us down. I’ve seen Jesus battle fires in my life and the lives of others countless times. I’ve seen Him rescue people that no one else could have rescued. God’s rescue plan is right there in today’s verse! Our world is on fire. Our lives are on fire. And Jesus is the One on the nozzle, ready to smash down the flames. He’s the only One who can do it.

PRAYER
Jesus, help me believe, or at least want to believe, that You really are all I need.

—

We wear ourselves out looking for safety in all the wrong places — work, family, politics, achievement, money, relationships, and more. But when our hopes go up in flames, we discover how much we need a true Rescuer.

In the new devotional Jesus is All We Need: Devotions to Experience the Rescuing Love of God, decorated former firefighter Jason Sautel invites readers on a journey to discover a life-saving love that will never turn to ashes. Through Jason’s personal story, select Scriptures, key points, and prayers, readers can learn to find refuge in the one place they’ll truly be safe – the strong, rescuing arms of God.

We know this book will be a blessing in your life, or the life of someone you love.

Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN a copy*!

Then join Becky Keife this weekend on the (in)courage podcast for a conversation with Jason. His story is powerful and the hope you’ll glean is palpable. Don’t miss it!

 

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

*Giveaway open until 11:59 pm on 2/18/24 to US addresses only. Winners will be contacted via email.

When Life Brings Change, Here’s What You Can Trust Is Still True

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I recently sat in front of my computer screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. I needed to make a decision. Take a risk. Step into new territory. One “yes” is all it would take, yet I held back. I found myself craving the familiar, wanting safety, seeking assurance that I was doing the right thing. Have you ever done the same?

I don’t think we ever fully outgrow the fear that can come with a step of faith or an unexpected challenge. But I do think we can grow in our ability to be brave and move forward anyway.

Change can be hard. Yet everything we’re living today was once new to us. We walked for the first time. Said hello to someone we love for the first time. Showed up to work for the first time. All of those shifts likely came with a bit of fear, perhaps butterflies in our stomachs, questions, and uncertainties.

Of course, life brings harder changes too. Unexpected losses, expectations upended like a glass of red wine on a white tablecloth, promises broken — bullets through a stained-glass window. We’ve survived all of these so far too. We’re still here, breathing, reading these words. We got out of bed today (or at least picked up our phone and looked at the screen).

Sometimes the hardest thing about change is the unknown. Certainty is a warm blanket we wrap ourselves in as we curl up on the couch in front of the fire. But the not-knowing feels colder; it sinks into our toes, whispers that we might not have what it takes to pioneer this winter of our lives.

In those moments, here are a few things I need to tell myself over and over again:

You are fully loved, no matter what you do or do not do.

You are part of a plan that is bigger than you, and it is unfolding even now.

You have a purpose even when things don’t turn out at all like you might expect.

God is good and what I can know of His ways is like one grain of sand on a thousand seashores.

My story isn’t over yet, and I choose to trust the Author even when I don’t know what’s coming.

I don’t always like change — but it is also the door through which so many people I love, so many opportunities I’m grateful for now, and so many of the ways I’ve grown have entered my life.

I always feel nervous about change, but eventually, it becomes my new normal.

What would you add to this list?

I recently met two friends for coffee, and all three of us talked about unexpected shifts in our lives. Some personal. Some professional. All stretching us in uncomfortable ways. I said, “One of the only certainties in life is change.” When I remember this, it helps me resist change less, and instead expand to make space for it. The changes I’ve loved most and the ones I’ve hated have both led to growth. This doesn’t make me like change, but it does give me hope.

I don’t know what change you’re facing. If it’s an exciting one, I’m cheering you on and praying you have the courage to embrace it with all your heart. If it’s a painful one, I feel tender toward you as a human who has suffered too. And I’m praying you are given the comfort you need to sustain you in this season.

Most of all, in all the changes life brings, I hope you know deep in your bones the one thing that remains: You are loved — deeply, always, come what may. That is true forever, that is true today.

Does the change you’re walking through involve something hard in a relationship (friendship, family, work, or any other kind)? Then Holley’s new online course, Heal After You’re Hurt, might be just what you need! Learn more here.

 

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