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

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!

The God of All Comfort Remembers Our Pain

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“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-5 (CSB)

As we remember those we lost on this day twenty-two years ago, let’s sit in these words from 2 Corinthians. The Father of mercies and the God of all comfort is with us. He has not forgotten our grief nor the pain that continues to linger from the aftermath of tragedy.

And as we are comforted by Him, may we offer the same tenderness to others today.

 

Please join us for a moment of silence today in remembrance of every victim, loved one, and first responder impacted by the September 11th attacks.

 

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

This Is Hard to Do, But We Can Do Hard Things

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Do everything without complaining and arguing, so that no one can criticize you. Live clean, innocent lives as children of God, shining like bright lights in a world full of crooked and perverse people. Hold firmly to the word of life; then, on the day of Christ’s return, I will be proud that I did not run the race in vain and that my work was not useless.
Philippians 2:14-16 NLT

We live in a culture of complaining. It’s normal (even expected) for everyone to complain about how tired and overworked they are. It’s common for wives to complain about their husbands and children, single people to complain about dating, widows and empty-nesters to complain about being alone. When it’s cold we complain about the cold; when it’s hot we grumble that it’s too hot. So often the weather is never right, circumstances could always be better, and the grass is seemingly lush and green everywhere but beneath our own two feet.

We also live in a culture of arguing. From politicians at every level to professional athletes in the middle of a game, from school board meetings to social media comment threads — the shouting and name calling is deafening. We live under the assumption that the louder you are and more talking points you have, the better chance you have to win the argument (and isn’t coming out on top no matter the cost the point of it all? or so culture screams).

This isn’t new information.

But it’s worth stating because the contrast to our call as Christians is glaring.

Paul exhorts the Philippians with words we desperately need two-thousand years later: “Do everything without complaining and arguing . . . Live clean, innocent lives as children of God, shining like bright lights in a world full of crooked and perverse people.”

The way of culture is not the way of Christ. 

The constant flood of arguments and complaints have settled over us like dark, relentless clouds. This is why God wants us to live another way! So we can shine like bright lights! So our lives can point others to the light of Christ.

So how do we break free from the patterns of culture? “Hold firmly to the word of life.” 

God’s Word is the only thing that can truly light our paths and tame our tongues — for our good and His glory.

 

The Real Hero of Every Story

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Then the word of the Lord came to him: “Go at once to Zarephath in the region of Sidon and stay there. I have directed a widow there to supply you with food.” So he went to Zarephath. When he came to the town gate, a widow was there gathering sticks. He called to her and asked, “Would you bring me a little water in a jar so I may have a drink?” As she was going to get it, he called, “And bring me, please, a piece of bread.”

“As surely as the Lord your God lives,” she replied, “I don’t have any bread — only a handful of flour in a jar and a little olive oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it — and die.”

Elijah said to her, “Don’t be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small loaf of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son. For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the land.’”

She went away and did as Elijah had told her. So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family. For the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the Lord spoken by Elijah.
1 Kings 17:8-16

Have you ever felt at the end of your rope, like all hope was lost? Like if God didn’t intervene ASAP, you weren’t going to make it? No doubt that’s how the widow felt. She was ready to fix a final meal for herself and her son and then just give up.

But what does Elijah say to her after hearing about her dire situation? “Don’t be afraid” (v. 13). It’s not an emotional putdown, but a call to courage.

The assurance of God’s presence and His power working on our behalf is why we can be courageous. Both Elijah and the widow were unable to provide for their own needs. So not only was God inviting the widow into a moment of courageous kindness, but He was asking the same of Elijah.

The economy of God is a strange and miraculous thing. The more you give, the more you receive. The more you pour out, the more He fills you up. Elijah was fed by ravens, the widow’s final provisions were multiplied beyond reason, and her little boy was brought back to life.

It’s tempting to read a story like this and focus on the obvious characters. Elijah showed up at the widow’s home and asked for a loaf of bread. The widow dipped her hands into the jars of flour and oil and formed the ingredients into loaves. Elijah took the lifeless boy from the widow’s arms and cried out to God for his life. Elijah and the widow both showed courage, but they are not the heroes of the story — for it was God’s power on display!

Friend, living the simple difference and choosing a life of courageous kindness doesn’t happen by our own strength but by God’s strength in us. We start where we are, give what we have, and God does the rest — more than we could ever expect.

God, thank You for again reminding me that You are compassionate, gracious, slow to anger, and full of loving kindness. I acknowledge my great need for You. I offer my life — all that I have and all that I am — for Your glory. Use me to show someone else Your kindness this week. Amen.

This devotion is from our Bible Study Courageous Kindness: Live the Simple Difference Right Where You Are, written by Becky Keife and featuring stories from our (in)courage contributors. We’re pretty convinced that Courageous Kindness will empower us to change the world — one simple, intentional act of kindness at a time. Get a free week and learn more about the Courageous Kindness Bible study!

 

 

When Following Our Creator Invites Us to Something More

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We talk about quarter-life and mid-life crises, sometimes as a joke, other times to name our realities, but what do we do when we can’t name the shifts happening within us? How do we find our way through to the other side when we don’t know how to release the restlessness and tensions we feel inside, especially when we don’t know where we’ll end up when things settle down? The internal, invisible shake-up makes me feel like a snow globe in the curious hands of a toddler.

For much of my life, I subscribed to the narrative that to live out your calling with purpose you must find the one thing you’re good at, the one thing you’re passionate about, and you go after it with your whole heart. We’ve all been made with gifts and talents, so the advice was to dedicate our time, energy, and life to that one thing, and over the long haul, it would be called faithfulness.

For me, leadership has always been my thing. It’s a combination of natural gifting, childhood realities as a pastor/missionary’s kid, and my personality. I’ve mostly flexed this muscle in the church, leading ministries, small groups, and Bible studies. I’ve taught and led youth and college students, peers, and even adults older than me. People have long told me I was a wise, old soul, so it made sense that leadership was what I was made for. Even now, without any official ministry titles, it’s still the thing I do best.

I almost can’t help it. If I sense a need, I’m there to fill it. If people need guidance, I’m ready to give it. It’s an intuition I can’t shut off. But these days, I wonder if my strength is the very thing blocking me from growing deeper in my connection to God, others, and myself. Or put more honestly, I wonder if I’m using it to avoid connecting more intimately with God, others, and myself.

By default, I know how to be a leader and a helper. I know when to listen well and when to offer wisdom. I know how to envision a ministry, organize an event, and execute ideas. I know how to be a support and cheerleader for everyone around me. What I don’t know so much is who I am apart from what I can offer others. What joys do I experience if it’s not about helping people? What would I create if I created for fun and not only for the benefit of others? What more would I discover about the depth of friendship and community if I learned to be truly vulnerable so I could be known just as much as I seek to know others?

It would be easier and more comfortable to keep operating in my strengths and live on automatic drive. I think I would still live an impactful life if I did. But as I’m spending time sitting with God as Creator, the story of Creation is giving me a more expansive view of what life was intended to be from the beginning. In imagining it like a child, I see how impossibilities became realities – light from spoken word, physical bodies from dust and breath, every weird and amazing creature made from love. When I take off my grown-up reading glasses and enter into the story like a kid, it’s full of wonder and gasps and clapping with delight.

And in this season of shifts, God’s inviting me to be like a child, to discover what’s possible, and to become like Him in creating beauty, life, and goodness.

And if you, and not only I, said yes to the invitation to be like our Creator and create flourishing, joy, and delight in our little corners of the world, I’d like to believe that together we could hold open the curtain for the kingdom to come through. Perhaps, faith would flicker on in our weary, cynical hearts, and we’d believe again that impossible things can change, that callings and purposes can shift, and that it can all be good even still.

I don’t know exactly what saying yes to this invitation will look like for me, but for now, it means saying goodbye first. For the last five and a half years I’ve had the privilege of being a part of the (in)courage community and our writing team. I’ve loved working behind the scenes, editing my fellow contributors’ words, writing books with them, and creating a space for you, our readers, to feel seen and known. It has meant so much to me to witness God’s faithfulness in this space, and I’m ending my time here with deep gratitude.

So, may we all pay attention to the shifts within us. Perhaps God is inviting us to something more or different or new, and whether we whisper it quietly to ourselves or say it out loud for all to hear, I hope we can respond with our whole hearts, “Yes.”

 

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

When Your Heart Hurts Over an Adult Child

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She chased me down in the empty church hallway. Her voice wobbled as she began to speak and a shift in her cadence alerted me that this was a conversation where I needed to stop hustling to the sanctuary. The worship service could wait.

“Jen, thank you for reminding me that we aren’t the only parents struggling in this season.” Her tears started falling. “I never envisioned this stage of mothering — parenting adult children — could be so lonely or that I’d ever be disconnected from one of my children. I’ve asked myself again and again, ‘Did we do something wrong? What can we do differently?’  Mothering guilt is so very painful and I’ve lost so much sleep over his choices.”

For the next thirty minutes, she bared her tender, mothering soul. We carved a connection that only comes when two people cast off appearances, acknowledge shared struggles, and hold each other’s cares with great compassion. I’ve learned when we enter delicate discussions with a quiet and humble heart, then tender conversations can heal instead of hurt.

She felt comfortable approaching me because a few weeks earlier I facilitated our Sunday School discussion on parenting adult children. The first week, our class hosted a panel of younger adults spanning ages from twenty-four to thirty-nine. We encouraged them to speak freely so we could better understand the generation we are parenting. They answered a plethora of dicey questions ranging from “Why do so many young people who were raised in the Church, turn away from the Lord?” to “As parents, we have blind spots, so discuss your best advice that we need to know.” (Their answers were so good! Treat them like adults because they are adults. Less lecture, listen more. Allow mistakes without micromanaging, and more valuable insights.)

The following week we continued the discussion among our peers and I started with C.S. Lewis’s reminder. “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one.’” That is the reassurance we often need in parenting. We are not alone in this journey, yet our parenting stories are so personal. When our hearts splay open as our adult children make lifelong choices that we don’t have the freedom to share, we carry the burden in isolation. It’s understandable to feel a deep ache, but this is when we need each other most; we need mothering mentors to normalize this discussion.

As mommas, we spend over eighteen years comforting our kids and carrying their burdens, nurturing and negotiating their future, naming their pain alongside years of loving, and listening to and learning their hopes and dreams. We lean in and become professors of their personalities, and when we finally launch them to be their very best selves, we pray their biblical foundation propels them to the goodness and glory of the Lord. Yet for many in our Sunday school class, and I’m guessing for many of you too, we’re met with their faith resistance.

There’s a new tension in our hearts. We believe we know what’s best for them, right? (And oftentimes we do!) But while they’ll always be our babies, they’ve left our parental guardianship and are now accountable to the Lord. It’s time to listen more and lean into who they’ve become. It’s an ongoing season of releasing control and managing expectations. It’s a season of surrounding our adult kids in prayer and turning any worries, wonderings, and ‘what ifs’ about their future, their safety, and their choices to the One who knows and loves them best.

Using Colossians 1:9-12 as a model, Paul’s prayer for the church of Colossae is my heartbeat for our five adult kids. I personalize it with their name and pray specifics from this passage to their lives:

“And so, from the day we heard, have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding,  so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him: bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God;  being strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy; giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light.”

Mommas, take a deep cleansing breath with me. Let’s unclench our fists, raise our open hands, and release our adult children to Him — our Abba Father, Healer, Rescuer, the One who takes this often topsy-turvy world and makes sense of it. Take Heart. He can and will do it!!

My prayer is that all of us will be able to proclaim, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth” (3 John 1:4).

What a day of rejoicing that will be.

Our children, their spouses, and our grandbaby are my greatest delight, yet I know the challenges many are facing. I’d be honored to carry this discussion/prayer into the comments.

 

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

You Don’t Have to Love This in Order for It to Be Beautiful

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Cacti are not my favorite plants. I also don’t particularly like the fact that cacti is the plural of cactus. I wanted to say cactuses. But that’s neither here nor there. Though I was born in Arizona and therefore must have a smidge of desert in my blood, I find cacti more obtrusive than inviting, more awkward than beautiful. I don’t like it when they grow monstrously large and take over an entire yard. And more than once I’ve had to remove painful spines from a child’s hand. I love me some plants and I’m plenty outdoorsy, but a cactus? Not the kind of plant I would ever choose.

Yesterday on my morning walk I passed by a nondescript house with lackluster landscaping, which I have passed by probably one hundred times before. But this time, something caught the corner of my eye. There, protruding out of a bulky cactus was the most delicate white flower. I had to stop and strain my neck to peer around the backside of the formidable plant and fully take in the impressive blossom. Creamy white petals splayed open creating a deep center boasting of intricate light-yellow filaments.

This flower was the only one on a whole cluster of dull cacti. I had never seen anything like it. The protruding bloom wasn’t just an unexpected visual feast for me, it was also a beacon of delight for a handful of bees. The buzzing creatures happily hovered over anthers heavy with yellow pollen, zipping in and out of the cavernous center.

In that moment I was reminded again that beauty can, in fact, be found anywhere – even in a cactus.

As I continued on my walk, I kept thinking about the ugly cacti (ugly in my humble opinion; you’re welcome to disagree) and its one beautiful blossom. And it reminded me of the fact that so often in life, goodness sprouts up from things we would never choose.

I would never have chosen Generalized Anxiety Disorder, but this mental illness has allowed God’s comfort and compassion — and in turn my empathy for others — to bloom in the most life-giving ways.

I would never have chosen for my son to have a visual processing disorder which, several years ago, led us to an educational crossroads where we made the decision to hold him back in school. But that hard circumstance led to God’s protection and provision in so many beautiful ways.

I would never have chosen to be long-term renters instead of homeowners. But despite the fact that our name is not on the house title, we’ve made our current address home for almost a decade. We’ve experienced the wild beauty of opening these rented doors, adding chairs to our table and pillows to the floor, and sharing with others the gift God has entrusted to our care.

Gorgeous flowers that could only bloom from cacti – blessings reaped from un-favorite things we didn’t know we needed.

Think back on your own life and the circumstances you would never choose . . . can you see the beauty? Can you see the goodness that came from that job you didn’t get or that relationship that started out on a rocky foot? Can you see the blessing that sprouted from that difficult diagnosis, cross-country move, or brutal season in parenting?

We serve a God who is in the lifelong business of turning ashes into beauty, weakness into strength, and death into life!

Indeed, “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28 CSB).

While Scripture is irrevocably true, we can still admit that recognizing the beauty of God’s goodness, kindness, compassion, provision, or grace in our lives does not erase the proverbial cactus spines. Life is still prickly and hard and there will surely be parts we would never choose and would rather avoid.

And guess what? That’s okay.

Cacti are still not my favorite plant, but I can appreciate their potential to produce something beautiful.

May we hold open hands and open hearts to the same potential in all our ugly, uncomfortable, or unfavorite life circumstances today. Beauty may be just around the corner in the place you’d least expect.

For more encouragement on how to see the daily beauty of God’s fingerprints in the midst of life’s prickly and painful moments, follow Becky on Instagram!

 

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

Walking with the Women of the Bible

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Cain said to his brother Abel, “Let us go out to the field.” And when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel and killed him. Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” He said, “I do not know; am I my brother’s keeper?” And the Lord said, “What have you done? Listen, your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground! And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. When you till the ground, it will no longer yield to you its strength; you will be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth.” Cain said to the Lord, “My punishment is greater than I can bear! Today You have driven me away from the soil, and I shall be hidden from Your face; I shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth, and anyone who meets me may kill me.” Then the Lord said to him. “Not so! Whoever kills Cain will suffer a sevenfold vengeance.” And the Lord put a mark on Cain, so that no one who came upon him would kill him. Then Cain went away from the presence of the Lord and settled in the land of Nod, east of Eden …

Adam knew his wife again, and she bore a son and named him Seth, for she said, “God has appointed for me another child instead of Abel, because Cain killed him.” To Seth also a son was born, and he named him Enosh. At that time people began to invoke the name of the Lord.
Genesis 4:8-16, 25-26 NRSVA

Eve’s life had been quiet for so long.

Once, a lifetime ago, it had not been so. When her boys, Cain and Abel, were small, her days were filled with the sounds of childhood.

Shouts of laughter. The stampede of bare feet as they chased each other in their play. The low whispers drifted to her through the darkness as the brothers planned the next day’s adventures from their sleeping mats.

But as they grew into young men, their relationship began to change.

Laughter gave way to harsh words and tears. Instead of moving toward each other in friendship, her sons pulled away from each other, each wary of bridging the distance between them. At night, an angry silence fell over the tent as they turned their backs to each other from their sleeping mats.

Eve knew things were bad between her sons, but how could she have ever imagined the horror that was to come?

Abel’s blood soaking into the cursed earth, his young life cut short by his own brother’s hand.

Cain lost, too, driven away from home and family by his crime.

In one breathtaking stroke, Eve was forced to bury one son and watch the other walk out of her life forever.

Somehow, she opened her eyes that next morning. Somehow, she took her next breath. Somehow, she kept putting one foot in front of the other.

And the quiet descended, carried on the back of grief. In the silence of loss, life slipped by, day by day, month by month, year after year.

The loss of Cain and Abel was an ocean of pain that seemed to stretch endlessly between Eve and her husband Adam-too vast to chart, too precarious to cross. Until, somehow, a lifetime later, Adam and Eve drifted nearer each other, close enough to reach for the comfort of each other’s arms across the years of loss. It was the beginning of healing, the first stirring of resurrection. The advent of new life.

Now, the silent years of mourning have drawn to an end.

Eve groans in agony as a contraction washes over her. With the next wave of pain, she cries out, and a moment later another, fainter cry, takes the place of her own.

Through laughter and joyful tears, Eve reaches down to lift her newborn son to her chest with trembling hands. She holds him near, and whispers his name for the first time.

“Seth.”

The weary mother laughs in wonder as the baby boy’s face wrinkles in fury and his cry grows louder. Once again, the sounds of life have come to her tent, filling the emptiness.

Banishing the quiet of grief and loss.

Tears have given way to laughter, and the sound of bare feet running in play won’t be far behind. At night, a baby’s cry will once again pierce the stillness of her tent, accompanied by whispered prayers of gratitude.

For at last, new life has come.

Against all odds. Despite every mistake and in defiance of each regret…

Life wins.

And this is the love story of Scripture from beginning to end: a loving God gives life. The accuser attacks, bringing death. For a time, it seems all hope is gone.

But God always has the last word.

—

This is an excerpt from the new book, From Where I Stand: A 30-Day Journey with Women of the Bible, written by two of our favorite writers, Sherri Gragg and Shanna Noel. This book invites you to trace the footsteps of ordinary women who faced unique challenges, endured extraordinary circumstances, and encountered the living God.

They are the long-suffering, courageous, flawed, and faithful women of the Bible. In this 30-day guide featuring devotions, Scriptures, and reflection questions, you’ll experience what these women saw and how they felt, from the lushness of the Garden of Eden to the blistering sunshine illuminating Christ’s tomb. You’ll emerge with insights that can be gleaned from their failures, triumphs, patience, and perseverance. Most of all, you’ll learn about the character of God who gave them life, remembered them, and placed them with a purpose exactly where they were meant to be. Just as He has done for you.

We know you’ll simply love this book! Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN one of 5 copies*!

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

 

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

You Don’t Have to Be a Perfect “Good Girl” to Be Loved

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I’m sitting in my counselor’s office. We’re talking about the pressure I feel to be “good,” my fear of disappointing people, the cloud of guilt that often hovers over my heart.

She asks me, “When is the first time you ever felt that way?” A scene from my childhood comes back to me. I’m a little girl of six or so, standing in my backyard by the swing set. The sky is blue above, the grass green beneath my bare feet. I have a sudden thought that I’m bad and God wants to punish me. (The grown-up version of this thought sounds more like, “Something is wrong with me” or “God must be mad at me.” (Sound familiar?)

I have no idea what provoked this thought. Perhaps I smacked my little brother or pulled the dog’s tail. Maybe I snuck the last cookie or didn’t eat my broccoli. Most likely, knowing now how I’m wired, I did nothing wrong at all.

When I think of this moment, it makes me ache. I was so small to believe such a big lie. Now I am so big to still sometimes believe it. My counselor asked me to see this scene from a different perspective, to invite Jesus into it. When I do so, everything changes. My heart hears Him say that I am loved, covered in grace, that He wants me to be free.

When the session was almost done, my counselor and I looked for new words to replace the old lie I’d believed. My thinking sounded like, “I’m bad and I have to force myself to be good.” The new sentence that comes to mind is, “I’m already loved, and I am a force for good.”

It’s a subtle shift but a powerful one. So many of us have been taught to be “good girls” who try hard to meet expectations, but I believe God wants so much more for us.

Queen Esther was raised to be a “good girl.” She has no voice or choice when she’s taken from her family to join the royal harem. Her role is to please a narcissistic king who cares only for himself. Yet when her people are in danger, God empowers her to act with great courage. She finds her voice. She makes her own choice.

When Jesus visits the home of Martha, she’s busy trying to make sure she does everything right and meets the cultural expectations for women. But, as Jesus gently points out, she’s missing what matters most. Yet later when her brother Lazarus dies, “When Martha got word that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him. But Mary stayed in the house” (John 11:20 NLT). The former “good girl” feels free to be in or out of the kitchen and she’s pursuing her good God.

The Proverbs 31 woman is also often talked about as the ultimate “good girl” but when you look closer at her life, she’s really a powerful woman. She has strengths like being creative, resourceful, and business-savvy. She is respected, wise, proactive, and independent. “She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future” (Prov. 31:25 NLT).

We try to be “good girls” because we’re afraid. We fear being bad. We fear being rejected. We fear making someone (including God) upset. What helps? “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love” (1 John 4:18 NIV).

We think we need to be perfect to stop being afraid; what we really need is God’s perfect, healing love.

When I got home from my counseling appointment, I wrote this…

Then one day she decided
to stop being a “good girl,”
and became an unstoppable
woman who’s a force for good.

I posted those words on Instagram and so many of you responded. That’s when I knew I wasn’t alone in my struggle. Maybe you’ve tried to be a good girl like me, and you’re ready for something new. If so, Jesus wants to set your heart free from every lie that has held you back too.

Let’s believe we’re already loved.

Let’s stop trying to be “good girls.”

Let’s be unstoppable forces for good.

Are you with me?

If you want more truth and encouragement to set your heart free from fear and lies, then Holley’s new devotional book, What Your Mind Needs for Anxious Moments will help! Get a free excerpt on Holley’s site.

 

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It’s Always a Great Day to Pray! 

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“Pray in the Spirit at all times and on every occasion. Stay alert and be persistent in your prayers for all believers everywhere.”
Ephesians 6:18 NLT

It’s always a great day to pray!

Paul’s words to the Ephesians remind us not to become complacent in our prayers — but to pray at all times and on every occasion. That means there is never a time we don’t need to pray. God desires for us to continually turn our thoughts to Him (Isaiah 26:3) and rely on His strength (Ephesians 6:10)– instead of trusting in our own worrying or controlling or striving.

Let’s be persistent in prayer today — for ourselves and for one another! 

Leave your prayer request in the comments and then pray for the person who commented before you.

We are sisters around the world, connected in Christ, empowered by the Holy Spirit! Thank You, Lord!

 

What If Being Influential Is Simpler Than You Might Think?

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“Now that same day two of them were on their way to a village called Emmaus, which was about seven miles from Jerusalem. Together they were discussing everything that had taken place. And while they were discussing and arguing, Jesus himself came near and began to walk along with them.”
Luke 24:13–15 CBS

I sat across the table from her at a local Chinese restaurant, strangers eager to get to know each other. I was the new associate pastor on staff, and though it wasn’t part of my job description to meet with the young adults in our congregation, she seemed hungry for connection and care.

Over shared plates of noodles and savory meats, I asked about her life and what it was like growing up at the church. She opened up about her family, how she had been raised by a single parent, and the hurts—even traumas—she had received from pastors and fellow youth group students in the past. She didn’t know how to feel about church, but she was curious and perhaps even a tinge hopeful that things could be different with the younger pastors who had come on board recently.

I met with her and many others over the first year of my time on staff, trying to get a pulse for what God was doing, what the ministry and the congregation needed, and how I was to invest in the people who were hungry and ready to be discipled.

I was new to ministry and had seen leaders of the church I grew up in only use programs and curricula they found in mainstream ministries to “do” discipleship. But those didn’t fit the culture of our city and the people who were in our community, so I did what I knew how to do: feed people and create a safe place for them to be.

Once my husband and I were ready to buy a home, we discussed what we wanted most out of it, and we both agreed that the most important thing would be an open space where people could gather comfortably. We imagined hosting small groups and movie nights, Friendsgivings and Christmas parties, and when we did find the right house, that’s exactly what we got to do. But more than those big get-togethers, I realize now that discipleship happened most at our dinner table.

Food was always a sure way to ease into conversations where I could share what I saw God doing in someone’s life, guide them when they needed it, and be there for them when they ached for a place to belong. I walked with them through family issues, church frustrations, and relationship sorrows and joys. I didn’t follow a program or even read books together with them, but it was at the dinner table that our eyes were opened to see God.

The story in Luke 24:13–15 about the two disciples walking to Emmaus is such a clear picture of what discipleship looks like. Discipleship is coming alongside one another, sharing life and its struggles, and pointing one another to Jesus—our Hope, our Answer, and our God. He showed us the way on the road to Emmaus, and we can follow in His footsteps.

by Grace P. Cho, as published in Courageous Influence: Embrace the Way God Made You for Impact

This devotion is from our Bible Study Courageous Influence: Embrace the Way God Made You for Impact, written by Grace P. Cho and featuring stories from our (in)courage contributors. The world tells you that your influence only reaches as far as your social media followers. But the Bible shows you how God can use you right where you are to be an influence for the kingdom. Turn the idea of influence on its head and become the courageous woman of influence God calls us to be — get a free week and learn more from the Courageous Influence Bible Study!

When You Have to Walk Through Hell on Your Way to Heaven

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At points in my life, I’ve endured the kind of suffering that shakes the faith in which I have professed for most of my adult life.

Deep suffering like this can be so great that it nearly shatters your heart. It dominates your every thought, invades your dreams, and wakes you up at night. Suffering attempts to steal your faith and works vigorously to erode your resolve.

I imagine that you have walked this road. And if you haven’t, you probably know someone who is walking it right now.

That road can be disorienting and painful to accept. I know, because I’ve had to endure it, and I’ve watched so many others endure it as well – even people who love God deeply and have walked with Him faithfully.

When you suffer as a Christian, you know you’re on your way to heaven, but it feels like you have to walk through hell to get there.

The thing about suffering is that it doesn’t skip over God-fearing people. It doesn’t skip over the kind, the lovely, and the generous. It doesn’t skip over people whose Bibles are worn from use.

Suffering doesn’t knock only at the doors of the ungodly. Suffering is the reality of the human experience.

We misrepresent the gospel when we don’t acknowledge that suffering is a part of being a Christian. When we say “yes” to a life with Jesus, there is no flip of a switch where your world brightens up with only sunshine and rainbows, like the perfect summer day. Sometimes, life feels more like winter, where you’re trapped in an unforgiving blizzard.

I am reminded of the words of the Apostle Paul, who wrote this: “For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake” (Philippians 1:29, ESV). In this passage, Paul doesn’t specifically describe the type of suffering. Yet, we can certainly understand from his words here that, if you are in Christ, you are also “in suffering,” in its various forms.

Jesus often pointed to the connection between suffering and following Him. “And he said to all, ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23, ESV).

Here are five things the enemy wants you to believe when you are suffering like this:

You’ve not been faithful enough.

This will never get better.

God isn’t actually good.

Your prayers are wasted.

God isn’t going to come through for you.

What I remind myself of in times of suffering is that Jesus and His cross prove that the enemy’s lies are untrue.

What god in the history of gods was willing to enter into the physical reality of the human experience? Our God alone.

Jesus willingly walked this earth, experiencing every pain, loss, betrayal, and heartbreak we feel.

As the late Tim Keller once said: “Jesus Christ did not suffer so that you would not suffer. He suffered so that when you suffer, you’ll become more like him. The gospel does not promise you better life circumstances; it promises you a better life.”

As we suffer, Jesus is the One who steps in to comfort us.

A friend of mine, going through an agonizing time, told me recently, “I would rather suffer with Christ by my side.” And this — “Christ beside us” — is our great comfort when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. David reminds us in Psalm 23, that as we walk the valley, we can fear no evil, for God’s rod and staff comfort us.

As you face your own suffering, know that God’s goodness and mercy are following you, all the days of your life.

He is in this with you, even when you suffer – especially when you suffer.

If you’re currently in a place of suffering, Stuff I’d Only Tell God is for you. It’s a journal that gives you space and permission to be right where you are, in your suffering, your doubts, and your healing.

 

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His Mercies Are New Every Four O’Clock

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Well, I am turning right onto I-77, the interstate road that will take me over the lake, and I like the way the water sparkles — like a mirror, always reflecting the light of the good sun. 

I am listening to the radio but, really, I am not listening at all . . . because I am listening to the one thousand voices in my head going on and on about all the things that overwhelm me. The emails left unchecked and the texts unanswered. I think about the pills I forgot to take and the muscles I failed to stretch. Then, every trivial matter spirals into the deepest despair as I think about the body I cannot fix and the people I’ve let down. There are the decisions I need to make about the kids and the guilt that comes uninvited. 

There’s my marriage, my family, and trying to shoulder the weight of the world through the mere hours of work I clock in each week. I glance at the time. It’s only four o’clock, but I feel as tired and burdened as last-minute prayers at bedtime. At this moment, not a minute later, I need the kind of grace that can’t wait until kingdom come, can hardly wait until morning. 

I need the fresh reminder of God’s mercy right now; I need the reminder that His love knows no bounds. Long gone are my teenage years, that raging age when I’d cry myself to sleep, unsure of God’s love and overwhelmed with the weight of life. Desperate to believe that God’s love was really for me, I’d cry my heart out just before sleep, only to wake up puffy-eyed and hoping the newness that I felt from waking to a new day was really God’s way of waking me to new mercies. 

But, right here in the car, I think I’ve realized something that teenage me never did. Right here in my car with nothing mystical or magnificent happening — not even the circuit of the sun setting and rising that I rely on to fix the gaping need in my soul — I feel God and His presence and the promise of His steadfast mercy. 

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”
Lamentations 3:21-24 

This is the passage of Scripture that carried me through my weary, teenage nights. The passage that got me through the anger and bitterness of my soul through my high school years — the actual affliction, the sense of wandering and lostness. I remember how these words held me with hope, how they traced truth, making hope glow like a light in the dark. 

Looking back, I now see that God’s unfailing love didn’t just come to me every morning, it carried me through every night. His mercy was the breath in my lungs even though my body was weak. His mercy was love in my life even though I felt lost and alone. His mercy was a feast for my soul, sustaining me though I ached and starved for my life to change. 

And if I held onto Him then, I could hold onto Him now, heavy-laden and heaving and all. I can hold onto Him this minute (and the next . . . and the next), never needing to hold out for the morning to wash me anew. I can recall His mercies to my mind now, right here in this car driving over the lake that sparkles with the light of the good sun. 

I can walk through sorrow and sadness, the overwhelm of my soul. I can stand as my heart breaks, holding out hope for the fragility of it all — for the world and the ones I love. Though I weep, His mercies are new every morning. Though I carry the weight of sin in my soul and on my skin, His mercies are new every morning. 

His mercies are new every four o’clock, too. And every two in the morning then, again, at two in the afternoon when it’s time to shuttle the kids across town. His mercies are new every millisecond, stretching wide and reaching deep to cover us for any reason . . . at any time, in any place.

This article is by Rachel Marie Kang and is featured in Everyday Faith Magazine.

The brand new FALL issue of DaySpring’s Everyday Faith Magazine just hit newsstands!

From cover to cover, you will find stories and articles like the one above that will inspire hope, prompt reflection, and encourage you for the upcoming autumn months. You will find tips on how to spruce up your front porch for the season, how to cultivate true gratitude, and how to dig deeper into God’s Word. There are beautiful tear-out prayers to share cards, scannable QR codes for bonus goodies, and exclusive Fall Planning Calendars tucked inside!

Everyday Faith magazine will help you know and share God’s love in fresh, true, and inspiring ways. Pick up your copy wherever magazines are sold and at DaySpring.com. This article is just one of many featured in Everyday Faith magazine, which, by the way, is perfect for reading on your lunch break, bringing in the carpool line, or gifting to a friend.

And to help you do just that, we’re giving away FIVE sets of magazines — one for each winner and one for them to give to a friend! Leave a comment telling us to whom you’d gift a copy, and we’ll draw five winners*.

 

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*The giveaway is open to US addresses only and will close on 9/1/23 at 11:59 p.m. central. 

When the Culture Promotes Negativity, Let’s Be Counter-Cultural

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I paused in the middle of a writing session to open a new tab on my web browser. After years devoted to nonfiction, I’m twenty thousand words into the rough draft of my first novel (it both thrills and terrifies me to type these words). The differences between genres no longer overwhelm me, I can compose dialogue (yay!), and I’ve become comfortable writing from points of view beyond my own.

For my last two books, I researched articles in science journals. Now I study character development, and how to describe real places or fabricate fictional settings. I ponder fresh word choices and avoid overused clichés, employ techniques like “show, don’t tell,” foreshadowing, and cliffhangers, and know that HEA means happily ever after. Sometimes I’m so fully immersed in my fictional world that writing dialogue feels like eavesdropping, as if I’m taking dictation on my characters’ conversations.

Some days the sentences build themselves. Perfect turns of phrase flow at will from my fingertips. Other days are just plain hard. I’m not sure what comes next (I’m a pantser, if you care to Google it) or I convince myself I’m wasting my time and no one will read, much less publish this book. On those days, either I push through, take a nap, procrastibake (yes, this is real), read a book, or allow research to lead me down an endless series of rabbit trails — this one has the initial benefit of feeling like work.

Recently, while searching for the perfect song title to use in a scene, I stumbled upon YouTube videos of genuine reactions to hearing famous songs for the first time. Have you seen these? There’s something compelling about watching another person encounter truth, goodness, and beauty in something familiar to you, like two gorgeous 70s pop tunes in the videos I watched. I hadn’t heard one of them in years, but I play it all the time now; it’s an earworm, and the subject of my first conscious thought some mornings.

I’m fascinated by the idea that my favorite song, book, movie, or album exists, but I haven’t discovered it yet. When I watch reaction videos, I anticipate witnessing someone make such a discovery, or at least unearth a treasure I already possess and add it to the lexicon of their cultural literacy. Things that are real, right, and lovely appeal to us and those that are fake, false, and ugly repel us. At least they should. But with time and exposure, we become desensitized. A word that used to guarantee a film an R rating is now common on television.

My husband and I have a theater membership plan that allows us to watch up to three movies a week, which we sometimes do. I also read a lot. I’ve got front-row seats to what’s offered to the culture, and it’s bleak. No matter the subject matter, most of what I see and read is peppered with anti-family, anti-religion, anti-truth, and anti-goodness messages. We watched a comedy recently with demonic content (I don’t use that term lightly). Don’t underestimate the impact these things have on our children and society, on me and you.

Francis Schaeffer observed, “Rome did not collapse because of outward forces, such as the barbarians, but because of inward rottenness,” evidenced by decadence and a lack of creativity in the arts. The 19th-century preacher Charles Spurgeon said, “I believe that one reason why the church of God at this present moment has so little influence over the world is because the world has so much influence over the church.”

The problem isn’t new. However, our ability to counteract it not only privately, but publicly, increases apace with technology. Within our circles, we are all influencers and content creators. When you read a book or see a movie with a positive message, share a review online or tell your friends about it. Take your children to a museum or hang art reproductions in your home. Our family can’t purchase originals, but our walls display three Van Gogh’s, two O’Keeffe’s, and a Vermeer. Vote with your wallet: let your viewing and reading habits tell Hollywood and the publishing industry what you as an audience want.

Friends, don’t be depressed; be empowered. When the culture promotes negativity, be counter-cultural. We have multiple spheres of influence. Let’s use our roles as wives, mothers, friends, homemakers, consumers, or debut novelists to share truth, goodness, and beauty with a fallen world.

“And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.”
Romans 12:2 (KJV)

 

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Step off the Hamster Wheel

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This past summer I decided to do something that felt radical for me. I took a break. 

I’m not just talking about a vacation. I actually stopped working. I committed to four weeks of rest without deadlines, meetings, and other obligations. I realized my vision was growing cloudy while squinting at too many to-do lists and hoisting my fatigued body from bed each morning. I knew I was teetering on the edge of burnout and needed to slow my pace for a more extended time. 

Some people call it a sabbatical. I call it an exhale. Sabbaticals have their roots in Christian tradition and Scripture. Leviticus 25:1-5 calls for the people of Israel to set aside the seventh year as a year of rest for the land. In the New Testament, Jesus modeled regular rest and solitude. He drew away from the crowds even when the needs around Him seemed to be pressing (Mark 6:45-46). He napped! (Luke 8:22-23). And Jesus chose to devote Himself to prayer instead of simply plowing through (Matthew 26:36).

The first week of my sabbatical I traveled with my family. The second week I slept. I didn’t realize how deeply fatigued my body was until I actually turned off my alarm and let myself sleep.

My last two decades have been filled with birthing babies, raising my three girls, investing in ministry, grieving the death of my first husband, and chasing demanding deadlines. Sleep too often came with anxiety, restless tossing, and mom guilt. I never gave myself real permission to rest. 

During one of the weeks, my oldest daughter and I decided to drive up to Princess Campground just outside of Hume Lake in Sequoia National Park for some time off the grid while her younger sisters were off galavanting at summer camp. There in the woods, I felt God’s glory lean in close and begin to restore my tired soul. 

From my perch at the picnic table, a cool breeze kissed my neck as my eyes followed up-up-up the trunk of a ponderosa pine. Her sage green branches swayed slightly like a woman wearing a feather boa, promenading across the velvet blue sky. Light streamed between the trunks of the trees. There was no music playing, but there seemed to be a symphony around me. I could hear the flutter of bird wings flapping, the whistle of the wind, and the punctuated play of two squirrels chasing each other down the path.

I saw God’s glory in the blue-crimson flames that danced over the logs of our campfire. I smelled His glory in the earthy scent of the forest, like a lingering cologne. I tasted His glory in the first bite of my s’more sandwich made with cinnamon graham crackers. I heard His glory whisper through unhurried conversations with my girl, who is just starting her senior year of high school and dreaming about the future.

Sometimes we need to create space for our minds to wander, for our hearts to grieve, and for meandering conversation with our people.

Back in Genesis, the Creation story reveals something intentional about God’s architectural plans for the world. He speaks the ocean, heavens, trees, flowers, birds, beasts, sun, moon, and stars into existence in the first five days. Then He takes the dust and sculpts a man, breathing life into him on the sixth day. 

Genesis 2:2 tells us “he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done” (ESV). 

That means the first day on earth for humans was actually a day of rest, not work. God created us to rest. Full stop. In rest, we are invited to delight in the garden, to create in community, to cook up feasts, and dare to dream. Our work then flows out of that rest. 

On my sabbatical, I was reminded that rest helps us untether our souls from the hamster-wheel pace our culture glorifies. Rest helps us change our speed from striving and sprinting to slowing and noticing.

Rest highlights our idols and distractions and brings us back to the peace found only in our Creator’s arms. 

Rest gives us time to abide in Christ rather than chase after the affirmation of others.

In a physical sense, rest is necessary for growth. If we want to build our muscles and endurance, our bodies need both stress and rest. Without resistance, our muscles atrophy or melt away as we age. I lift weights at the gym a few times a week to stress my muscles. This creates micro-tears, which signal the body to send good blood and good nutrition to that area. During rest days, the tiny tears heal and grow back stronger. Our muscles need time for recovery and regeneration — as do our souls. 

Arranging my summer sabbatical took preparation. I had to do work in advance and say no to some good opportunities so I had space to rest. I had to discipline myself not to fill our calendar squares so I had unplanned hours and unscripted days. My brain and my body needed time to heal the micro-tears before they became injuries.

This time of sabbatical taught me how much I need space. My everyday harried, trying-to-multitask life leaves little margin to listen to God.

Friend, what about you? When is the last time you fully rested? Do you give your soul space to breathe? When have you granted yourself permission to grieve or take time away from the treadmill of productivity?

You might not have a month for a sabbatical, but you could carve out a weekend, a day, or even a few hours. Arrange for the babysitter. Book the campsite or the hotel. Mark off the time on your calendar, and protect it.

Our culture preaches that time is money and rest is a myth, but I’m starting to believe the unforced rhythms are actually the healing God intended for us from the beginning. Let’s embrace them. Let’s listen closely for the Spirit’s whisper and His voice in the wind.

Dorina helps women discover God’s glory in unexpected places. Subscribe to Dorina’s Glorygram here and follow her on Instagram for encouragement and glory resources.

 

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If Only God Would Send out Patience via Overnight Delivery

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In early May, my daughter Abbie experienced a unique car accident. A large round of tree stump fell off the back of a landscaping truck into Abbie’s lane on the expressway. With heavy traffic on all sides and behind her, Abbie couldn’t avoid the stump. She ran right into it. 

The stump wedged itself under her car. Abbie nursed her car along to a nearby friend’s house. After their slacked-jaw response to her arrival, her friends pried the stump from under her car. The stump was big enough for them to roll it into their backyard as extra seating around their fire pit. I’m grateful that a more serious accident didn’t occur.

After eight weeks in the repair shop and many thousands of dollars later, the body shop called. Abbie’s car was almost complete. I was relieved! We’d been sharing my car since the accident. since Abbie lives close by. Even though Abbie lives close and works nearby as a NICU nurse, and I work at home, it was still tricky sharing a car.

The day before Abbie picked up her car, the body shop called again. Her driver’s side seatbelt didn’t pass the electronic safety tests. While her airbags didn’t deploy during the accident, the force of the collision damaged the integrity of the seatbelt. Even though the repairs were complete, her car was legally non-drivable.

Then, an even bigger problem popped up. The shop manager broke the news that there were no seatbelts in the entire country for her vehicle’s make and model. Not in junkyards. Not in the aftermarket. Honda factories weren’t making them. I asked when a seatbelt might become available. The manager let out a long sigh and said: “Ma’am, I don’t know.”

 It’s been five weeks since that phone call. Still no seatbelt nor a hint of when one might arrive. Could be tomorrow, could be two weeks from now, or could be Christmas.

My daughter and I continue to share a car. In the moments when I want to grumble, I remember that this situation is giving me an invitation to grow in my least favorite aspect of the Fruit of the Spirit: patience.

Who loves waiting for something to happen that is out of your control? Answer: Not me.

God knew what He was doing when He designed the Fruit of the Spirit as a singular analogy of what the Holy Spirit grows in our lives. Otherwise, I’d cherrypick the other fruits like love, joy, or kindness of the Fruit of the Spirit tree and leave patience hanging for someone else to figure out. Instead, the Fruits of the Spirit are one because God intends for us to reflect all that Jesus is, not only the parts that we’re interested in.

I don’t enjoy being impatient. I want to pray, “God, take as long as You’d like.” However, once I say “Amen,” I usually expect God to deliver an answer via Amazon Prime in two days or less, preferably overnight shipping.

Can you relate? If patience is hard for you, there’s a popular verse on waiting that sparked an a-ha moment for me that I’d like to share with you. This discovery didn’t make waiting easier, but it has helped me to remember that waiting on God is always worth it.

“But those who wait for the Lord [who expect, look for, and hope in Him]
Will gain new strength and renew their power;
They will lift up their wings [and rise up close to God] like eagles [rising toward the sun];
They will run and not become weary,
They will walk and not grow tired.”
Isaiah 40:31 AMP

My a-ha moment was this: This journey of patience is often where I can have the most impact in my Christian life. If God instantly gave me what I wanted, I’d probably not stop to look around at what other people needed.

What if your waiting room season included this prayer:

“God, while I’m waiting, You have permission to work through me to help others.”

For example, if you’re waiting on God to bring back the prodigal in your life, you can invest in young people at your church or in your community. While you’re waiting on God for a baby or grandchild, you can volunteer at your local school or make meals for new parents. For someone like me who is praying for God to bring a future spouse, I began meeting with another single woman at our favorite ice cream stand once a month to pray for her. Letting God work through us while we’re waiting encourages us and actually makes us stronger during the wait.

Where has the waiting been heavy for you, my friend? God knows that your wait is hard, but don’t jump ahead just because you’re tired of waiting. I love this wisdom: “You can save a lot of time waiting on God.” 

Perhaps your prayer today could be: “God, while I’m waiting, please use me to make a difference. Work through me, God, for Your glory and my good. Amen.”

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