How to Hear Him Better This Advent

How to Hear Him Better This Advent

by

Every time it snows, I wait for my opportunity. When the house is quiet and dark, I tiptoe into the living room and curl up mesmerized in the big front window to watch the flakes fall silently — blanketing the ground, trees, and houses — muting the world. Is that a rabbit peering from the edge of the trees?

These are sacred moments. The blue light of my phone and the voices competing for my attention are traded for the yellow light of the moon and hushed white clusters streaming to the earth. I sigh in relief.

I feel small, and I remember One who made Himself small. Jesus, who, “became flesh and made His dwelling among us” (John 1:14 NIV). I can hear Him better sitting in this stillness. I wait in anticipation.

In the quiet, I realize, and maybe you do too, that I have become full. And not in a good way. Full of expectations for this season, full of plans and pulls. Full of Facebook and Instagram — I just can’t seem to put them down. Full of myself and what I want. I’m so filled up that I can’t put anything else in.

When I feel like this, I know what I need to do, but sometimes I need someone else to confirm it. So if you need confirmation, too, you have it from me. I have to empty myself of me and make room for Jesus. I must turn off the distractions, even some good ones, so I can focus on the One who is ultimately the most important.

I pour it all out on paper — confess what’s been swirling around in my head, plaguing me. Maybe it’s not paper for you — maybe you talk out loud or play the guitar or paint — but our prayers of confession come out. I ask for forgiveness and He gives it.

And I ask Him to come: Emmanuel, God with Us, come fill this season and my heart. I’m sweeping out the clutter — setting my phone notifications to “Off” and logging out of all those accounts that distract me from what is important.

I want to hear Him so I can be like Him.
I want to be like Him this Advent.
Less of me and more of Him.
Less looking at my phone and more looking at my family’s eyes.
Less “what I want” and more “how can I serve?”

It all begins in the stillness.

“He made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.”
Philippians 2:7 NIV

This article is by Lauren DeVries from the archives and featured in the Simply Jesus Christmas Magazine.

DaySpring has a special keepsake holiday magazine called Simply Jesus: The Heart of Christmas, and it’s now available!

In this keepsake magazine, you will find a collection of powerful Scriptures, inspiring prayers, and heartfelt articles, as we hope to help you deepen your faith during this sacred season and help your family celebrate Christmas together in new and exciting ways. Pick up your copy of Simply Jesus: The Heart of Christmas wherever magazines are sold and at DaySpring.com. We hope to bring you inspiration in the form of personal stories and inspirational articles, the sharing of Christmas traditions, celebrating with family, observing Advent, and keeping Christ at the center of it all. With each turn of the page, we hope to warm hearts, inspire your faith, and rekindle the Christmas spirit in your heart and home. 

This article is just one of many featured in the Simply Jesus keepsake Christmas magazine, which, by the way, is perfect for gifting to a friend, Bible study sister, Sunday School teacher, or neighbor. 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.

Giveaway is open to US addresses only and will close on 12/8/23 at 11:59 pm central. 

 

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

The 3 Christmas Temptations and the Cure You Need

by

Every day in December is jam-packed with stuff — just like my fridge. The constant ding of my phone is like its own version of “Carol of the Bells.” The month has just begun, and I am already exhausted. Yet, there is a yearning inside of me to not miss the true meaning of Christmas.

I find myself struck by many feelings. December feels so nostalgic. The warmth of memories and traditions wrapping me like a favorite worn sweater. Yet a quiet sadness also settles in like a fog — comforting, yet solemn. I sting for all that was and all that has been lost. A loneliness rises within me.

Christmas also ushers in shame. Shame for all I have not accomplished or overcome this year. Shame that, in many ways, I remain the same. Even after all the work, struggle, and uphill battles, I still argue with those I love, can not keep up with everyday demands, and hate myself for all that I can’t seem to overcome. My will to “keep going” takes more power to muster up than ever before.

Then there is my guilt. It is my cold companion. I feel the aching need to hide how I am really doing for fear that if someone knew my secrets, my guilt would grow. In the midst of sorrow, shame, and fear lives a tingling hope. A hope that this year will be different. This year, I want to savor the true meaning of the season.

How do we savor the Savior this Christmas?

Three temptations will knock at our doors this month. They will beckon us, call out to us, and continually try to steal our hope. You will be tempted to fill, cover, and hide.

We will be tempted to fill our loneliness with more food, more drinks, more entertainment, and more stuff. This temptation is so alluring. We so badly don’t want to feel our groaning loneliness that we will fill ourselves until we are nearly sick. Instead of putting more and more in your mouth, in your eyes, through your ears, what if you let your loneliness breathe? In honesty, confess the true condition of your heart. Let your longing to be loved in the deep places of your heart be known. Instead of reaching for more, reflect on the goodness of God.

We will also be tempted to cover ourselves with our own glory. Shame isn’t that we have done something bad, but that we believe we are bad. We have a stain that we can’t get out so we must cover ourselves up. We cover ourselves with fashionable clothes, nicer things, bigger homes, fancier parties, brighter Christmas trees, or anything that will convince people that we are better than we actually are. Instead of covering ourselves this Christmas, let’s bring our shame to Christ. Take your mask off and confess the things you wish weren’t true about yourself. Confess. Let us confess our sins to one another. Instead of seeking our own glory,  let’s shift from dwelling on our own goodness to the goodness of God.

Lastly, we will be tempted to get rid of our guilt. Our guilt tempts us to hide. We want to retreat from telling the truth. We hide behind our good behavior and good deeds. Or we hide in the darkness of our sin or brokenness. Darkness feels safe. We tend to hide ourselves in the deepest corners of our own souls. But what if we receive Christ this Christmas instead?

Jesus came to us. He lowered Himself and came into our world, but He also continues to come into the caves we often hide ourselves away in. Christ came to lift us out of our guilt. He came to pour light into the darkness.

The Christmas cure is to let the love of Christ fill your loneliness, cover your shame, and come into your guilt. You are free. Instead of reaching to resolve your pain on your own, receive the gift God is offering you through His son.

I refuse to miss the meaning of Christmas this year.

So, even today, I reflect on the goodness of Christ who came to save and love me. I receive the invitation to feast at the table of hope God is offering me. I remove the layers and layers I have worn as a way to cover my bad from others. Instead, I put on the robe of royalty that God offers me through Christ. I am called a daughter of the king. I am of royal blood. I receive the light of Christ that came into this dark world. The light comes into all the places I have hidden for fear of judgment. Instead, Christ stood in my place. He took the punishment for me. I can stand freely as one who is forgiven.

There will be temptations this season, but there will also be a cure. Christ is the cure. In Him, I pray we find our hope.

 

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

How Long, O Lord?

by

It was ten years, seven months, and twenty-five days ago that we stood outside the airport in Cancun, Mexico. Hugging goodbye, we were no longer a missionary family of two parents and two children. We had evolved, split off into four adults living in three different countries.

With our family reunion over, my husband and I reluctantly released our grip on the oldest . . . who was about to board a plane and return to the United States.

I’ve struggled with this transition to release my children, as any mother would. In my head, I know that my babies are not babies. I know that their choice on where to live and who to live with belongs to them . . . and not me. But it’s still hard to let go. It’s still hard to release them, even though I know God called my husband and me to Belize as missionaries . . . and not my children.

Yesterday, we tightly hugged one another after gathering for the oldest’s wedding. This morning, my husband and I drove to the airport to send our youngest back to Australia. I can’t help but wonder, How long, O Lord? How long will it be until the four of us are reunited?

I may be an empty nester, but I’m still a mama who gets emotional every time our family goes through transitions. It feels like just yesterday that our babies were babies — but the calendar year says otherwise. I have many questions, but I stuff them all into a box labeled, “How Long.” Instead of entertaining these questions, I help my husband navigate the drive back to our hotel. We still have a long journey home, and I have a surgical procedure awaiting me — a procedure that will leave me in need of care.

When my husband and I finally arrive at the hotel, he falls asleep . . . but I open up my “How Long” box, all stuffed with my questions. I try to sort through my questions and put them in order, but I’m quickly overwhelmed because I’m really just a mama who misses her kids.

This transition from parent to patient might be the most challenging one yet. It’s hard to process the fact that though I once gave care to my children, now I’m the one needing care. How do I process the grief of saying goodbye to my children, again and again? How do I prioritize my concerns about my children and grandchildren? Where does my health rank?

Then suddenly, in the middle of my overthinking, my heart shouted, “Silence!”

Immediately, after my heart’s command, my fitness watch buzzed me back to reality with a notification from my Bible app. I opened the notification to see Psalms 31:24 in the Passion Translation: “So cheer up! Take courage, all you who love him. Wait for him to break through for you, all who trust in him!”

I’m grateful for the reminder that my challenges are not challenges for the God of the universe. He knows what I’m going through, and He will address my thoughts, worries, and questions in His own time.

As a mother, a wife, and a woman, I know that God understands the weight of my struggle with each emotional transition. He never planned for me to carry it all on my own. I know this in my head, but my heart is “prone to wander,” as that old hymn says. . .

I pause and breathe through the physical pain in my shoulder — and then I passionately pray for whatever my husband and children might be going through.

I question, pray, and worry, day after month after year. The weeks march on while I stand still. The struggle for healing — emotionally and physically — is real, and I’m over it. I want the pain to end so I can move on. “Six months from now, this pain in my shoulder should be gone,” I announced to my husband. But to myself, I wonder, How long, O Lord, how long?

The cheering up may take a while, and that’s ok. I love Him, so I’ll take courage. And I trust Him, so I’ll wait for Him to break through for me. I’ve learned the hard way that transitions take longer than change. They’re a gradual transformation to work through.

So, I carefully wrap each of my questions in prayer and gently tuck them back in the box, side by side. I scratch out the old label, smile, and write a new one: “In His Time.”

The Promise of Light

by

I am the light of the world. Anyone who follows me will never walk in the darkness but will have the light of life.
John 8:12 CSB

The Pharisees seemed to delight in catching people in sin. Most of the time that we see them in Scripture, they are attempting to trick Jesus — including this instance when they caught a woman committing adultery and then used her in their efforts to trap Jesus. Caught in the act of breaking the law, this woman had no defense and no defender. Thrown into a crowd of men, possibly in a state of undress, she was completely defenseless.

Until the moment her path crossed Jesus’s, that is. At that moment she was given an advocate, someone to offer her protection from the lethal consequences of her actions. Though she was saved from the stoning, Jesus didn’t turn a blind eye to her sin. He forgave her, yes, but then commissioned her into a life that looked different, a life free from sin.

This woman had every reason to be stoned to death like the law commanded. But Jesus had come to fulfill the law, not enforce it, so that those under it could rest in His record instead of their own. He granted the woman caught in adultery, along with the rest of humanity, a second chance. With her second chance, Jesus did not say, “You’re forgiven, go do whatever you want.” He did not condemn her, but He did command her to abandon a life of sin.

The woman caught in adultery learned that a relationship with Jesus is not a “get out of hell free” card. Forgiveness is not permission to live however one wants, with an understanding that Jesus will make it all right in the end. Instead, it’s an invitation to live a life full of love and light and righteousness, designed to point others to God. He didn’t rescue her from a physical death only to return her to a spiritual one. No, Jesus redirected her path toward holiness, toward wholeness.

This encounter between Jesus and the woman caught in adultery was actually just one more attempt by the Pharisees to trick Jesus into sinning. They plotted against Him, looking for any opening to prove He was not who He said He was. Surely this woman’s situation would do it!

But, no. Jesus refused to allow the religious officials to use the woman to condemn Him — or to use Him to condemn her. Rather, He raised the questions of sin and innocence, since the Pharisees were acting on their assumptions of both. Turning down their invitation to judge her and therefore sentencing her to death, He bent over and began writing in the dirt.

Nobody knows what He wrote that day. But whatever it was, it caused the Pharisees to re-think their plan. Jesus declined the offer to serve as the woman’s judge and jury and returned that responsibility to the Pharisees. But He attached a condition to their judgment; He said that whoever had not sinned himself should be the one to punish her. Strangely enough, nobody volunteered and the woman was left alone.

Do you feel exposed? Do you worry that someone is plotting your punishment, waiting for you to mess up? Have you already been judged and found guilty? Friend, you are not alone and this is not the end. Though it may seem like you are without an excuse and without defense— your only options being penance or escaping back to the darkness—that’s not the case. Just like He did for the woman caught in the act of adultery, Jesus will rescue you — from your sin and from the judgment it demands. His death and resurrection has already paid the price for the mistakes you have made and the ones you are making right now. And if you trust in that, He will lift you out of the darkness and point you toward the light. He will rescue you for a reason: a second chance.

When Jesus gave the woman caught in adultery a second chance, He didn’t do it to give her freedom to sin, but instead freedom from it. He did it to show her that her life was worth living well and that she had the power to choose that path instead. That’s exactly what He offers us today, and that is a second chance worth taking.

Written by Mary Carver as published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible.

Today marks the first Sunday in the season of Advent, the four weeks leading up to Christmas Day. Join us here at (in)courage each weekend in December as we learn about the promises of God and count down to Christmas together.

Make the season bright by reflecting on these promises from God. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the season, make time to quiet your heart and hear from His.

The Promise of Presence

by

The birth of Jesus Christ came about this way: After his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, it was discovered before they came together that she was pregnant from the Holy Spirit. So her husband, Joseph, being a righteous man, and not wanting to disgrace her publicly, decided to divorce her secretly. But after he had considered these things, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, don’t be afraid to take Mary as your wife, because what has been conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

Now all this took place to fulfill what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

See, the virgin will become pregnant and give birth to a son, and they will name him Immanuel, which is translated “God is with us.”

When Joseph woke up, he did as the Lord’s angel had commanded him. He married her but did not have sexual relations with her until she gave birth to a son. And he named him Jesus.
Matthew 1:18-25 CSB

I remember the first time I felt like I needed to hide from Jesus. I was at a Christian retreat my freshman year of college. I was hungry for God and wanted to know more of who He is. I believed that, as I was surrounded by His people at the retreat, I would learn more about Him. The Bible was newly alive to me, and with each phrase I was blown away at how it spoke to me and how I could understand it. I wanted more.

I tuned in as the speaker gave his talk, hanging on every word, until he said something that shook me. The speaker asked, “What would you do if Jesus walked into the room right now?”

The immediate thought that came to my mind was: I would hide.

If Jesus came into the room, I would hide. I would go and bend down behind one of the worn couches and make sure He couldn’t see me. Because He wouldn’t want to see me—He, being holy and good, and me, being filthy and having done awful things. I was not clean. I was dirty. A holy God shouldn’t see a dirty girl.

Shame.

I shared my thoughts with my small group, thinking they were obvious and made sense, and someone from the group spoke life to me, “You wouldn’t have to hide,” she said. “Jesus knows everything you’ve done and everything you’re going to do and He loves you anyway. If He were to come into this room, He would embrace you and put His hands on your face and call you ‘daughter.’”

Daughter.

“But to all who did receive him, he gave them the right to be children of God, to those who believe in his name” (John 1:12 CSB).

I had no need to stay in my shame. I was His daughter whom He loved in spite of all the filth. I was His daughter because I believed in Him and because I trusted Him with my life. Isn’t that the most extraordinary thing about God? He takes in the harlots, the outcasts, the dirty, the thieves, and the liars, and He makes them—He makes us—His sons and daughters. Then He makes us new: holy, righteous, perfect.

“For by one offering he has perfected forever those who are sanctified” (Hebrews 10:14 CSB).

God uses the unlikely to make His name known. Did you know there are only four women named in the genealogy of Jesus in Matthew chapter 1? Yep, only four women named: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Mary. Tamar played the harlot, deceived her father-in-law, and had his twin sons. Rahab was a harlot. Ruth was not only a foreigner, but one of the cursed Moabites (Dt 23:3). She even initiated a relationship with Boaz after being instructed to do so by her mother-in-law Naomi. And Mary was a young, pregnant, unmarried virgin.

These women were a part of bringing Jesus to earth, and they are named in the lineage of Christ. God wanted us to know their names. God wanted us to know that Tamar – even though she tricked her father-in-law into sleeping with her—was worthy of being named because she was righteous by faith. God wanted us to know that even a harlot, Rahab, was humble and faithful and, by His grace, had given birth to a son who would become King David’s great-grandfather. God wanted us to know that Boaz had redeemed the young widow who had become a follower of Israel’s God, and that she had become the great-grandmother of King David. And God wanted us to know that what looks like scandal, a young, pregnant virgin, could be so faithful that our minds would be blown away.

Rahab became the mother of Boaz, who married Ruth, and became the father of Obed, who became the father of Jesse, who became the father of King David. Rahab the harlot was the great-great-grandmother of the king after God’s own heart. Rahab is in the line of Jesus.

So if a harlot can have faith and be used by God and receive the blessing of being named in the genealogy of Jesus, you, my friend, can be used by God too. No matter what.

The qualifications are these: Believe. Believe Jesus is who He says He is. Believe that when you turn to Him He makes you new, holy, and righteous. Believe that He will work all things together for His highest good. Believe that He loves you.

Jesus uses the unlikely. He used Tamar and Rahab and Ruth and Mary. He is using me and He is using you — all for His name and His glory.

devotion by Sarah Mae, published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible

Join us here at (in)courage each weekend leading up to Christmas as we share excerpts from the (in)courage Devotional Bible, learn more about the promises of God, and count down to Christmas together. We invite you to take a moment to observe, reflect, and respond:

OBSERVE: Who is God? What are you learning about God’s character from His promises?

REFLECT: Where is God? How is He moving during this busy season?

RESPOND: Pray, confess, and give thanks. How will today’s promise from God make your Christmas richer?

5 Tips for Writing (and Actually Sending) Christmas Cards

by

There is no longer to-do list than the one I have during December. It is big, long, and far more ambitious than I am committed to. And at the very top of that list is one thing: actually send my Christmas cards.

I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with Christmas cards. All through the years as my children were growing up, I diligently sent Christmas cards. We had moved away, and I wanted to send a photo and a newsletter to friends and family back home. I also knew that if I stopped sending my own cards, I’d fall off others’ card lists, and I really didn’t want to stop receiving them. I loved getting photos and newsletters from friends and family — well, most of them. Some I just couldn’t bring myself to read because they all sounded so perfect. Their children were smarter than my children. They had better vacations, better husbands, and in general, better lives . . . or so it sounded. The Christmas newsletter was the precursor to social media, except that with the newsletter I only had to hear and see the highlight reel one time a year, not every single day.

But still, sending Christmas cards was always at the top of my list because they are valuable. However, last year I got less than halfway through writing my cards, and I threw them all in the trash — even the ones I had addressed and finished. Time had gotten away from me, and I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t send only a few, I couldn’t bear to finish them, and I just couldn’t send them after December 25th.

I didn’t send Christmas cards, and I love Christmas cards.
I didn’t send Christmas cards, and I love all things Christmas.
I didn’t send Christmas cards, and I work for a company that makes greeting cards.

I let time slip away last year, and I was sad, and when I think about it, I still get sad — sad I didn’t find or take the time to write Christmas cards because while words are powerful, handwritten words are priceless.

So this is the year. This is the year to be mindful and deliberate, to respond to Christmas with an attitude of worship, like that very first Christmas.

Mary sang her song, and her soul glorified the Lord. Her spirit rejoiced in God her Savior. The song she sang as she acknowledged the great things He had done and His mercy that lifts up the humble and fills the hungry (Luke 1:46-55).

Mary took the time to worship through song, and I will take the time to worship via meaningful words in each Christmas card I write. It might be five cards or fifty cards, but no matter how many, they will be meaningful. Words of hope, joy, and encouragement from me will be found in the mailboxes of my loved ones, not in my trash.

This is the season to slow down, rest, worship, and tell others of the great things He has done. This year I am giving encouragement — and a few gifts, of course!

Here are five tips for writing (and actually sending) Christmas cards:

  1. Make a Christmas card spreadsheet. Get a count, fill in addresses, and keep track of cards that were sent and/or received.
  2. Buy stamps ahead of time. Go buy them today!
  3. Write and address a few cards each night. Pop them in your mailbox each morning, put up the flag, and feel satisfied about getting closer to the finish line.
  4. Let your kids help! If their handwriting is legible, let them sign the family name on the cards. Give them some stickers or crayons, and let them decorate the envelopes. If they’re older, put them in charge of that spreadsheet, have them pick up stamps at the store, or let them pick out the actual cards. Whatever their ages, they can help out!
  5. Select Christmas cards that reflect Christ! We love a glittery snowman, but when it comes to cards, we love making it about Jesus. In case you need to stock up, here are a few of our favorites from DaySpring.

Friends, there is still time. Enlist your family to help lick envelopes, crank out those address labels, and send off some Christmas cheer.

Send Christmas cards that share the Joy of Christ.

For more inspiration, read these articles from DaySpring:

  1. How Sending a Christmas Card Encourages Your Heart
  2. The Lasting Gift of a Christmas Card
  3. What to Write in a Christmas Card
  4. Who Did You Forget This Christmas?

 

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

When You Need to Change Your Expectations This Christmas

by

After moving my mother-in-law into an assisted living facility this past spring, my family helped organize, clean, and empty her home. Let me tell you, this activity teared us right up. From 4th grade through high school, my husband lived in this home. Since 1993, when David and I began dating, this home welcomed me with the widest arms. Our kids — military kids who’ve lived in several states and across one ocean — knew this home to be a fixed point of familiarity amidst constant change. Chock-full of good memories, this home has been a source of comfort and consistency for all of us, and we were rather tender to the thought of telling it goodbye.

After a few interior updates, David and his siblings put the house on the market. This fall, it sold. In one way, it was a relief and a gift to know the house would bless another family as it had ours. In another way, it was a bigger loss, one that solidified the fact that we won’t spend any more holidays or regular days in that home.

While I love Colorado and the life we’ve made here, I occasionally still get homesick for the towering oak trees and tumbling creeks of the Oklahoma prairie where I grew up.

And now, I miss a home that’s no longer in the family.

I’m someone who builds strong attachments to people, yes. But I’ve learned I’m a girl who builds strong attachments to places as well. I can find myself so homesick for a place it makes me heartsick. With Christmas less than a month away, I feel this all the more acutely.

Because of this difficult change and a dozen others recently experienced, I know I stand at the end of an era.

While I’ve undoubtedly seen the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living over the past several years, it’s also been several years of arriving to December feeling like I’ve finished a year-long marathon. Losses have built up over time, and this Christmas season, I’m tired as can be.

Last year, I wrote about how much I’d love for Real Life to take a vacation during Christmas. After all, it interferes with my Christmas “Land of the Sugar Plum Fairies” magic and merry. This year, I don’t need Real Life to take a vacation as much as I need my own Christmas expectations to take a vacation. Because your girl here? She can shoot some sky-high expectations on experiences and people. Most of all, I pile them on myself and then get mighty disappointed when my expectations meet my human limitations, especially at Christmastime.

In light of this, I’m intentionally mitigating my expectations this season. That is, with so much life change, I’m changing and minimizing what I expect this Christmas so that I make room to celebrate – –to enjoy! — my actual Christmas. Here’s what that looks like for me:

1. Choosing my family’s favorite traditions and letting the rest go. When big changes are the way of life, I typically double down on my traditions because they are touchpoints of familiarity amidst the flux. At this time of year, I’m typically inclined to bake a dozen different treats. I want to watch the Village Seven Presbyterian Christmas Concert. I want to decorate to the hilt. I want to see every neighborhood’s Christmas decorations. And truly, I love doing every one of those things — but they aren’t the most important things to my family.  Because of my decreased bandwidth this year, there will be less doing of every extra tradition to make room for more enjoyment of the traditions we choose to do.

2. Expecting a situation or two to arise this Christmas that won’t be ideal. Jesus, our Good News of Great Joy (Luke 2:10), had newly arrived on this earth when King Herod tried to hunt Him down and end His life. From the beginning, the enemy has tried to ruin Christmas. In one way or another, why wouldn’t I expect him to try to do the same for followers of Jesus like me? I’m onto him, and I refuse to allow bad behavior or bad circumstances to steal my Christmas joy.

3. Lighting a candle in the evening. I’ll light a candle every evening to remember and celebrate that not even the threat of death or death itself can extinguish the hope found in the Light of the World (John 8:12). I will do this as a reminder to keep looking up to Jesus instead of out toward my circumstances.

If you’re in the midst of a lot of change or loss, I hope you feel comfortable letting Christmas come to you as it is, without heavy expectations. Because here’s the easy-going truth behind the season: Jesus came down to us. Jesus came down to encourage, not to exhaust. He came to lift our burdens, not lay on expectations. What’s more, Jesus arrived to mighty tired parents, so bringing our tired selves to the manger is perfectly appropriate.

Dear one, may your own Christmas expectations of experiences, of others, and of yourself be minimal and manageable. And may your heart prepare Him room by simply expecting Jesus this Christmas: Christ around you, Christ in you, and Christ always, always for you.

 

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

What Bringing My Kids to Church Shows Me About Jesus

by

I don’t dread bringing my kids to church, but I do view it as an adventure each week.

Who’s going to “whisper” the loudest during worship? How many times will that one kid “need” to go to the bathroom during the sermon? What will my toddler do this time?

Oh man, do I ever have stories of kids in church.

I grew up as the daughter of a church choir director, sitting in the choir loft each week. My siblings and I could tell church tales too. And for years and years, my husband was on church staff and worked during services, which left me on my own with two, then three, and eventually four kids in the pew on Sunday mornings. Those mornings always made me sweat.

There was the time that my two-year-old threw down her brand-new Bible and broke the binding, declaring (loudly) that it was too heavy.

There was the time I couldn’t find one of my kids… and eventually located him behind the front desk emptying the receptionist’s candy bowl as fast as he could.

Then there was the time my three-year-old hollered, “I want to goooo!” at an especially quiet moment in the middle of the service.

And many, many stories in between. I get sweaty just remembering the diaper blowouts mid-worship, the nursing in the pews, the hauling of toddlers and babies in car seats, and the diaper bags full of snacks and wipes. This picture was taken on my daughter’s baptism day and perfectly sums up how it felt to bring little ones to church during those early years.

My husband is no longer on church staff so he joins us once again in the pews, our kids are one step older now, and yet so far it’s still kind of stressful getting everyone to church. Whether it’s clothes that aren’t quite right, shoes that have gone missing, forgotten Bibles at home, zipping in late to Sunday School, monitoring the stand up/sit down parts of the liturgy, or shushing the toddler who does not wish to be confined to a row any longer. . . church can be a lot.

Thankfully, our church home welcomes the chaos of children, and it is so helpful to me as a mom when I remember that we’re welcome there, just as we are, in the fullness of who we are (because my kids are really good at being FULLY themselves). I fight with my inner monologue that prefers perfection, even though I know it’s but an illusion. So I breathe deeply. I find another toy or snack for the toddler. I encourage the bigger kids to stand at the proper times. I clap loudly when they play with the youth bell choir, grin broadly when they close each service by playing rhythm instruments along with the closing hymn, and give thanks the whole time that Jesus too welcomes us in all of our imperfection, loudness, questioning, and fidgeting.

He modeled it in so many ways but with kids, He was the best:

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”
Matthew 18:2-5 NIV

Then people brought little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked them. Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”
Matthew 19:13-14 NIV

Jesus knew exactly what He was doing when He invited the children to His side.

He’d been talking to the grownups for days, outside, likely in the heat and sweltering sun. He and His disciples had traveled from Capernaum at the tippy top of the region of Galilee, down to the region of Judea. This was an approximately 118-mile journey. . . likely made on foot. This was no small trek and yet in the Scriptures, it’s reduced to a single sentence in Matthew 19: “When Jesus had finished saying these things, he left Galilee and went into the region of Judea to the other side of the Jordan.”

When I am hot and sweaty, dirty and dusty, tired and hungry, the last thing I want to do is invite more children into my personal space. Listen, even when all of my basic needs are met and my baseline stress level is at a good place, I still don’t always want extra children over in my home or at my side.

And yet here is Jesus, who has been teaching and traveling and trekking many, many miles. . . and He reaches out for the kiddos. He has spent time answering difficult questions from difficult people, remaining calm and direct when the Pharisees tried to trip Him up, and giving answers not everyone was ready to hear. And in the context of all of that, He didn’t get stressed out by the presence of children. He welcomed them.

He’s been working hard, without a break, and then invites the kids to come up front.

When we invite children anywhere, we invite stickiness and crumbs. We invite sippy cups and loud whispering. We invite clapping during silence and heads thrown back to gaze at the ceiling. We invite questions and interruptions. We invite their parents and caring adults. We invite messes and challenges. We invite noisiness and clamor.

Kids only know one way to show up — just as they are. They bring their true selves to every situation and that’s exactly how Jesus invites us to approach Him.

So I’ll keep bringing my kids to church, making space for them just as they are — wiggles and yells and big feelings and all — even when it makes me sweat. I’ll breathe deep and remind myself that church makes space, and Jesus showed us how to do just that. May we do the same for one another.

 

Listen to Anna read her own devotion today over on the (in)courage podcast or on the player below!

Thriving as Nobody in an “Everybody Needs to Be Somebody” World

by

In a world where everybody is told they need to be somebody, lying flat on my back and unable to move was not a position I considered optimal for thriving. In fact, with my eyes on the blades of an equally immobile ceiling fan, the only thing I could do was trace dust.

It wasn’t the first time I’d found myself in this predicament. At the age of forty, anaphylaxis (a life-threatening allergic reaction) sent me to the emergency room for rescue. Despite extensive tests for my immune system’s repeated allergic reactions, no one could name my specific disease. Instead of answers, doctors gave strong medications in attempts to mask my symptoms. They also suggested lifestyle changes that might help . . . but also might not.

Chronic pain, inflammation, and neurological issues continued to be part of my life until, at age fifty, I contracted mononucleosis (a viral infection), further adding to an already complicated situation. My unstable immune system failed to control the virus, leaving me with chronic Epstein-Barr. The virus caused chaos in my body and led to weight gain, which only further strained my relationships, because my “able-ness” left me feeling purposeless, invisible, and misunderstood. This, in turn, ultimately isolated me from the ones I thought would see me and care.

Friends commented, “What happened to you?” and “You used to be so beautiful.” Others sent well-meaning messages on social media, offering to purchase things they thought to be “solutions” to my situation. I was no longer the somebody they used to know. To be honest, I was no longer the somebody I once knew. I no longer recognized myself . . . and whenever I looked in the mirror, all I saw was a nobody.

My gaze locked onto the dusty fan as words wet with tears spilled out to God: If this is how I have to live for the rest of my life, then I don’t want to live at all!

This confession shocked me and shook me to my core. Did I really believe my worth hinged on ability? Would God see me as unlovable and worthless if I couldn’t perform to a specified standard? Had I embraced the notion that “doing” made me a lovable somebody and that an inability to do made me an invisible nobody?

Even though I didn’t believe these things, this was the posture I’d unintentionally been living from. I wasn’t trusting God for peace or preservation. Instead, I was living in fear and believing that others would find me unfit, consider me unreliable, and use my weaknesses against me.

In my debility, God reminded me who He was and what I meant to Him. He whispered, “Rest, my child. I am with you. Because of the cross, you have everything to live for.”

I sensed my heart shift as my view expanded beyond the lifeless fan. I began to see my inadequacies in light of God’s ever-present mercy, which enables me to thrive beyond mere survival — even, and especially, when I cannot stand on my own. My worth rests not in my significance or strength but in the finished work of Jesus on the cross. There is nothing I need to do to be found worthy of His love because the cross proves His devotion and my value — even amid suffering.

A world divided into somebodies and nobodies is an illusion. Our uniqueness doesn’t fit into categories like well and unwell, useful and useless, or somebody and nobody. We are not our outward appearance or our ability to perform. When God made us, it was not to parade us for optics or to consume our usefulness — it was so He could be near us in love.

God doesn’t view His creation as garbage, and neither does He view weakness as a reason to walk away from His creation. In God’s economy, being incapable does not equal being a nobody.

He saw my frame, writhing in the unexpected and unknown, and He did not use it against me . . . as the world is apt to do. Instead, God saw it as the perfect posture for me to receive the grace and strength He alone possesses.

Another decade has since passed, and I still hear the taunting comment (What happened to you?) every time my physical appearance shifts or when illness interrupts my plans. I manage long periods of wellness and symptom relief with medication, for which I’m grateful. Death is less frightening, opinions less volatile, and the love of Jesus is more precious than ever before. 

I often wonder if someone will use my weakness, my unpredictable illness, against me. However, those who judge or categorize me are not holding the pen that writes my story— God is. And, to Him, I was and always will be somebody He loves.

Sisters, the same is true for you.

 

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

Don’t Discount Your Influence

by

I remember the first time someone told me I was a leader. My brother-in-law sat me down, looked me in the eyes, and said three words that ultimately changed the course of my life: “You’re a leader.” 

I looked at him in disbelief and possibly laughed in his face. I could think of at least a dozen reasons why he was wrong. The most obvious: I wasn’t leading anything. 

But leading an organization or a ministry or a family isn’t what makes you a leader. What makes you a leader is the calling Jesus placed on your life, when He commissioned you to go and make disciples. 

You are a leader. If no one has told you before, let me have the honor of being the first. I wish I could sit you down on a couch, the same way my brother-in-law did with me, look you straight in the eyes, and tell you: 

You are a leader.

You have a sphere of influence. You have people in your life, in your neighborhood, in your apartment, in your workplace, in your family, who need you to tell them about Jesus. 

We can easily discount our spheres of influence for a dozen different reasons. I have my reasons, and you have yours. But Jesus has equipped and called you to make disciples of all nations. You are called by Jesus, and the same power that the Father used to raise Jesus from the dead is at work in you. With the leading and power of the Holy Spirit, you have what you need to lead.

It doesn’t matter if you know one person or one thousand. It doesn’t matter if you have a platform on Instagram. It doesn’t matter if you’re single or married, extroverted or introverted. It doesn’t matter if you’re a woman. You are called to lead people to Jesus. The people in your life are in your life on purpose. It’s not a mistake that you live where you live, or work where you work, or brush shoulders with the people you brush shoulders with. 

What if you began to realize that you have an influence on the people you know? What if you began to live your calling… to lead people to Jesus, and to make disciples? 

What I love most about evangelism is that it’s not up to us to save people – but instead, it’s us partnering with what the Holy Spirit is already doing in people’s lives. Jesus said the fields are ready for harvest, but the workers are few. People are ready to hear about Him; Jesus is calling you to tell them.

I still don’t feel like a leader. Even now that I’ve begun leading in a more vocational capacity, I often don’t think of myself as a leader. (Ask anyone who’s ever emailed me and they can tell you I’m not the most administratively gifted.) We can excuse ourselves from leading because we don’t “feel” like we think leaders should be. But you are a leader.

A grade twelve girl texted me yesterday. She’s getting baptized at our church on Sunday and she asked me to baptize her. I was floored. Tears sprang to my eyes when I read her text. She sent me another message that said, “It’s just that I really look up to you and I thought that would be cool.” 

I had no idea she looked up to me. What a gift to be able to help lead someone closer to Jesus.

You are a leader. Don’t discount your sphere of influence. You know and spend time with people who need to hear about Jesus. People who are longing for greater meaning, freedom, and truth in their lives. The answer to their longing is Jesus.

The fields are ripe and ready for harvest. Jesus said so Himself. They just need some workers. 

Live a life worthy of the calling Jesus has given you: to go and make disciples, to partner with what the Holy Spirit is already doing, and to help lead people right back to Jesus.

 

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

And This Same God…

by

10 How I praise the Lord that you are concerned about me again. I know you have always been concerned for me, but you didn’t have the chance to help me. 11 Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. 12 I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. 13 For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. 14 Even so, you have done well to share with me in my present difficulty.

15 As you know, you Philippians were the only ones who gave me financial help when I first brought you the Good News and then traveled on from Macedonia. No other church did this. 16 Even when I was in Thessalonica you sent help more than once. 17 I don’t say this because I want a gift from you. Rather, I want you to receive a reward for your kindness.

18 At the moment I have all I need — and more! I am generously supplied with the gifts you sent me with Epaphroditus. They are a sweet-smelling sacrifice that is acceptable and pleasing to God. 19 And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus.

20 Now all glory to God our Father forever and ever! Amen.
Philippians 4:10-20 NLT

Imagine declaring with Paul’s confidence, “At the moment I have all I need — and more!” He didn’t write these words because his circumstances were easy, comfortable, or perfect. Rather, Paul was actively aware of God’s presence in His life, actively thankful for God’s provision through His people, and actively content whether He had little or a lot. 

Where might God be inviting you to be aware, thankful, and content today?

The same God who taught Paul “the secret of living in every situation” and who took care of him, will also supply all of our needs today! His provision won’t always look the way we hope for or expect, but we can trust God’s heart, His timing, and His sustaining love and grace no matter what we face. 

Amen?!

 

Cranberry Quick Bread + Welcoming a New Season

by

We thought it would be so fun to share with you some recipes from DaySpring’s sister site, Mary & Martha! Our friend Nancy creates the most delicious, beautiful recipes each month for Mary & Martha, and we are super excited to bring some of them here to (in)courage. . . starting with this one, perfect for this post-Thanksgiving weekend!

The most wonderful time of the year is on the horizon, which means decking the halls is on our minds. We just celebrated Thanksgiving here in the United States, and we’re still working through the leftovers. We also can’t wait to celebrate the birth of Jesus; some of us may already have our trees up and stockings hung, while others of us are taking our time. Either way, with the hustle and bustle that often distracts us, a delicious recipe to help us pause is a must.

This beautiful and seasonal cranberry quick bread from Nancy C. is just the ticket for transitioning from fall and Thanksgiving to welcoming in winter and Christmas. It’s also perfect for gifting a neighbor, serving at a gathering, and freezing a loaf for later.

Friends, scroll down for the recipe and download a free printable recipe card!

Cranberry Quick Bread

DOWNLOAD THE FREE RECIPE CARD HERE!

Prep Time: 15 minutes
Bake Time: 45-50 mins.
Makes one 8×4″ loaf.

INGREDIENTS:

  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 1 tsp. baking powder
  • 1/4 tsp. baking soda
  • 1/4 tsp. salt
  • 1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
  • 1 large egg
  • 1/2 cup orange juice
  • 2 Tbsp. butter, melted
  • 2 to 3 tsp. orange extract
  • 1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries, chopped

INSTRUCTIONS:

  1. Preheat oven to 350˚F. Grease and flour an 8 x 4″ loaf pan; set aside.
  2. In large bowl, blend flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon; set aside.
  3. In small bowl, mix the egg, orange juice, melted butter, and orange extract. Add to the dry ingredients in the large bowl, stirring just until moistened. Fold in the chopped cranberries and stir until evenly distributed in batter.
  4. Pour batter into your prepared loaf pan and bake at 350˚F for 45 to 50 minutes, until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.
  5. Cool in pan for 5 to 10 minutes, then remove loaf from pan and cool completely on a wire rack. Then slice and serve—you can also serve slices spread with softened butter or cream cheese.

To get the beautiful and cozy look above, use the Mary & Martha Oven Mitt from the Love Baking Set, and set the bread atop the Table Talk Pizza and Flatbread Board. Visit the Mary & Martha site to browse the new winter catalog, find more recipes, and connect with a consultant to learn more and place your order!

 

Taste and See That the Lord Is Good

by

Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.
Psalm 34:8 NIV 

God’s goodness isn’t something we are meant to simply acknowledge intellectually or believe theologically. Rather, God wants us to actively experience His goodness. 

“Taste and see that the Lord is good,” the psalmist encourages. It’s a call to engage our most human senses in order to recognize and enjoy our divine Creator. 

As autumn wraps up and winter is upon us, look for opportunities to taste and see that which reflects God’s goodness. Savor a warm mug of hot chocolate or bite into a decadent slice of pumpkin pie. Enjoy watching the snow fall quietly outside your window or the winter sunset along the horizon with streaks of gold, pink, and dusty violet. 

Let everything you taste and see become a reminder to turn in thanks to the Giver of all good things. Let His goodness compel you to seek refuge in Him. 

This article is from the archives and featured in the new Winter Everyday Faith Magazine.

The brand-new winter issue of Everyday Faith Magazine is now available!

With Thanksgiving barely over and Advent, Christmas, and the new year just around the corner, there is so much to celebrate and find gratitude in right now! In this new Winter issue of Everyday Faith, you’ll find uplifting stories, meaningful quotes, heartfelt prayers, practical resources, and tangible truths straight from God’s Word that will allow you to pause and reflect on the reason for the season. Be assured that every word, photo, resource, quote, and Scripture was prayerfully chosen to reflect God’s love for you in the everyday, mundane parts of life and the extraordinary, joy-filled moments too.

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 to the school pickup 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*.

 

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

*Giveaway open to US addresses only, and will close on 11/28/23 at 11:59 pm central. 

Giving Thanks When Your Life Is Falling Apart

by

It was two days before Thanksgiving when my life fell apart. The day started like any other, with the mad dash of getting kids ready for school and adults ready for work. In the middle of the chaos, just as I was about to head to the grocery store to buy everything we needed for Thanksgiving dinner, the phone rang. Within seconds, the doctor on the other end of the line told me the news I never thought I’d hear:

Michele, you have cancer.

Thanksgiving has long been my favorite holiday, ever since I was a young girl helping my mother roast turkeys and bake homemade pies for our family and friends. I love the preparation, the gathering of loved ones, and the absence of commercialism (did I mention the pies?). While Christmas seems to be the pinnacle of most people’s calendar year, Thanksgiving has always been the highlight of mine.

Until cancer decided to show up and put a serious damper on things. As it turns out, pie can’t cure everything.

It’s been thirteen years since that Thanksgiving. By some small miracle, it is still my favorite holiday, even though cancer came back a second and third time in subsequent years, again during the Thanksgiving holiday. Maybe that’s precisely why it is still my favorite holiday. As a result of my suffering, I’ve learned a few things about the practice of Thanksgiving, including both what it is and what it isn’t.

When it comes to an attitude of thankfulness, the Bible verse often quoted around the holiday is 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (NIV): “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” Thanksgiving is certainly a good way to approach life, regardless of circumstances. However, too often this passage is misunderstood and misapplied. We think we must give thanks for all circumstances. How exactly are we supposed to give thanks for the death of a loved one? Or for a terminal diagnosis? How do we rejoice in an abuse of power or the trafficking of children? To be thankful for these circumstances feels not only impossible but callous and inhumane.

I have good news for you: We’re not commanded to give thanks for all circumstances but in all circumstances. And there’s a huge difference between the two. So what can we be thankful for in the middle of circumstances that are breaking our hearts? Here are a few reasons I discovered for Thanksgiving, even while spending the holiday in a hospital ICU bed:

  1. No circumstance, no matter how horrific, will ever separate me from God’s love for me. (Romans 8:35-39)
  2. Even though I may feel alone, God will never leave me nor forsake me. (Deut. 31:6, Hebrews 13:5b, Matthew 28:20)
  3. God sees my suffering and He carries it with me. (Genesis 16:13, Matthew 11:28-30, Mark 6:34)
  4. Even as He weeps with me, He will ensure my suffering is not wasted. (Romans 8:28)
  5. And one day He will make sure I never weep again. Only joy! (Revelation 21:4)

Thanksgiving in seasons of abundance comes cheap. It’s still important, still a worthy expression of gratitude for what we’ve been given. But Thanksgiving when we have little to celebrate comes at a cost. But the payout is trust and peace.

“The Lord will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on all her ruins; he will make her deserts like Eden,
her wastelands like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing.”
Isaiah 51:3 (NIV)

The ruins are real and mustn’t be ignored. We are not called to dance on graves as if the life we mourn wasn’t actually lost. Instead, we see the God who meets us at our graves and looks with compassion on all our ruins. When we see the love in His eyes and remember His promise to bring gardens from graves, we find a different kind of Thanksgiving, one not tied to our circumstances but wrapped up in a Savior for whom we can sing even while we weep.

Written by Michele Cushatt, originally published on (in)courage on November 23, 2022.

 

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

When Loneliness and Light Are My Only Companions

by

I recently read an article about all the animals that go through metamorphosis and found myself comforted and amazed in ways I never imagined I would be.

Who knew Creation is filled with amazing metamorphosis stories beyond the butterfly (including my own)? Who knew about the immortal jellyfish, the crown-of-thorns starfish, and the flatfish?

From puberty to perimenopause, most of us have been taught to brace ourselves and just get to the other side of things.

Maya Angelou said, “We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”

I’m struck with our collective fascination over the “end product” and “arriving.” We are obsessed with happy endings and stories that tie up. We want accounts of triumph, not loss. And yet, from the moment we are born, we are growing older and changing; we are losing what was and receiving what will be. Did you know that your skin replaces itself with a new layer every 27 days? According to scientists who are smarter than me, it’s just layers of skin, but the cells in our bodies are in a constant state of change. With time, we lose elasticity and melanin, and we lose friends and family. Things begin to stretch and ache, and yet, we try to keep moving towards an elusive destination. Yet what time in life on earth is free of change except for death?

The last five years have knocked me down, and while it seems like everyone around me has recovered from the pandemic and other things we went through collectively, I have found myself on the other end in an ongoing journey of grief and back-to-back seasons of loneliness. I still grieve the ways community changed, the friendship break from over a year ago that still aches in my body, the wrestling of faith communities, and the struggle of someone I love that never seems to change no matter how I pray or what we eat. I hate telling my friend that I’m still in the same place when we meet to walk or sit and talk over coffee.

Has everyone moved on? God, how long? Will I survive this dark cocoon?

Here’s what I am learning through tears: we are held in the dark.

Light is easy to miss when we are bathed in it. But in the dark, we cling to the Light in an unsurpassed way.

Maybe the longer these unraveling changes last in the dark, the more I fear I will lose the Light. But John wrote, “The Light shines into the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it or put it out” (John 1:5, First Nations Version).

I meditate on these words and think about them in new ways. Instead of the need to prove I have access to Light by way of triumphant stories or a plastered-on smile, I can rest in being held by the Light wherever I am.

In the dark, we are not only found by Light, we come to know Light in a new and deepened way. Maybe that’s the point after all. Because if we never spend time in the dark and resist our own transformation and all the darkness that accompanies it, we may find ourselves among those who bathe in, identify with, and proclaim the Light, but never truly know it or are changed by it.

In my grief, the Light stays with me.
In my changes and aging, the Light accompanies me.
In my bitterness, the Light soothes me.
In my unknowing, the Light provides a path.

When I feel stuck in a dark cocoon, Light warms me.
When I fear losing the Light, Light holds me.
When I think things will never change, Light shines anyway, unbothered.
When I feel alone in the changes, Light never leaves.

 

Listen to today’s devotion on the play below or whoever you stream podcasts. 

 

Here Is Your Permission Slip to Release Your Fear of Food This Holiday Season

by

Content warning: This is a personal story that contains the subject of eating disorders.

I’m a Christmas person.

By that, I mean that I’m a Christmas-tree-up-in-the-first-week-of-November kind of person. I need my Taylor Swift Christmas album playing, and my hot cocoa with a candy cane. My virtual fireplace on YouTube is all queued up . . . and I already planned an Elf watch party. And I am proud. I love every part of this season — it’s just too joyful not to. 

I’ve not always been a Christmas person, though. To be honest, the last few years I really dreaded the entire holiday season. Not for a lack of festive spirit or a disbelief in all things merry and bright, but because of the gut-wrenching fear that my body might change.

Family dinners, baking cookies with my little sister, putting candy canes on the tree, and watching Mom make her famous chili were hardly opportunities for connection and joy. For me, they were moments ripe with possibilities for the numbers on the scale to change — possibilities for me to become even more disappointed with the woman reflected in the mirror. 

Last fall was the first time my (now) fiancé joined my family for Thanksgiving weekend at Grandma’s house. We were both working for the church we attended, so we got up early that Sunday morning to begin church set up — Trevor on the stage and I with the children’s and nursery items.

As we spent the first couple of hours of our Sunday preparing the space, I felt a pool of anxiety start to flood within me. My mind raced with memories of the previous Thanksgiving — the not-yet-free-from-an-eating-disorder Thanksgiving. That year, I had put on a perfect play so that no one could tell how ashamed I was. I’d tried so hard to not offend my grandma when I didn’t take slices of her homemade pies.

After church, Trevor and I got in the car and made the short drive to my grandma’s house. Picking at my fingernails, I confessed to Trevor, I don’t know how this is going to go. I told him how it’d been so long since I celebrated Thanksgiving without being consumed with thoughts of not wanting to consume food. I told him how it’d been so long since I gathered with my family and ate a meal without carrying the immense weight of body shame.

The tears began to creep into my eyes.  

What if I don’t know how to not have an eating disorder on a day like this? What if Thanksgiving drags me right back to the place I’ve worked so hard to free myself from?

Trevor and I prayed over my fear, asking God to help me release it. Then we prayed over my mind, asking that God would protect it. It was then and there that I began to develop an anthem — a list of truths about God, myself, my body, and food — that I could repeat to myself whenever fear threatened to come in again:

  • My worth does not come from what I try to control.
  • My health is more than a number on a scale.
  • My beauty is far deeper than my skin and my body.
  • I don’t need permission to eat what is on my plate.
  • I don’t need to apologize for eating what I choose to eat.
  • I don’t have to receive comments about my food, habits, or body.
  • I can create boundaries — with family and with friends.
  • My value comes from Christ alone.
  • God already calls me good.

If I was sitting with you right now at your favorite coffee shop, I’d lean in close and tell you this: Your Creator has promised you an abundant life — a life of joy and freedom and peace. And anytime you believe the enemy’s lies about your body, you’ll miss out on the joy, freedom, and peace that has been purchased for you with the blood of Christ. 

Breathe in the truth. Let it seep down into your lungs and run through your blood. Let it shimmy into every inch of your body until you know it to be true, until you are living in the truth that your Creator speaks over you.

In Christ, there is freedom from all insecurity, eating disorders, and body shame.

This is your permission slip to release your fear of food this holiday season. Freedom is for you — wave your flag and sing your anthem.

At (in)courage, we believe in making space for all stories and experiences. With heartache, we recognize the reality of eating disorders. With hope, we share this story — proclaiming the help and healing that can be found in community and Christ. We are here for you, in prayer and in the comments below, should you wish to respond to this guest devotion. If you are in a crisis and walking through an eating disorder, please seek help from a medical or mental health care provider. You are not alone. There is help.