What a Sandwich Taught Me About Jesus’s Love

What a Sandwich Taught Me About Jesus’s Love

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This year, my family has had the blessing of having numerous immigrant families stay in our home.

Currently, we have a Venezuelan couple living with us, whom we absolutely adore, and who treat our kids like their own nephew and niece.

Recently at lunchtime, the husband and wife offered to make a sandwich for my son. There was bread and meat and all sorts of toppings sprawled on the kitchen counter and, even though my son doesn’t speak Spanish fluently, he could understand their gesture.

In moments like this, I like to stand back and watch how my kids process and engage with other languages. Sometimes, we as parents are too quick to cut in and “help” our kids, when really part of the learning process is letting them figure out meaning and connection on their own.

So, there my son was, taking in the food displayed on our counter, and it was like I could see the wheels turning in his mind.

Sandwiches look unalike from country to country. Different cultures fill sandwiches with varied types of food. Some cultures eat sandwiches open-faced. Others microwave their sandwiches, preferring to eat them hot. The type of sandwich the Venezuelan couple offered my son was very different from anything he had ever eaten. But they were smiling and pointing, and they clearly wanted to care for him.

My son looked at me and said, “Mom, I don’t fully know what they want to make for me, but I’m going to give it a try.”

I was so proud of him as he turned back to the husband with a thumbs up and said, “Si.” He then proceeded to sit down with them and eat the whole sandwich without any complaints or fuss.

Later, when I asked him why he decided to try the sandwich, he said, “I know they wanted to be nice to me, and I didn’t want to hurt their feelings.” I told my son I was so proud of him for being willing to try new things and consider other peoples’ perspectives.

More than that, I told him that by being willing to try something new, he had shown love and honor to this couple the way Jesus wants us to.

It’s not always easy to receive the hospitality of food around other people’s tables, though, is it?

The theology of table fellowship – in which the people of God are to break bread together for the sake of oneness – is writ clear throughout the New Testament, and yet it is a command that is easier said than done.

Put simply: we don’t always like each other’s foods.

In fact, many of us have very strong opinions about what kinds of food taste good, whether a certain dish will sit well in our bodies, and whether or not a dish has the right nutritional value.

If I were to ask you, “What foods do you not like?” you’d probably be able to come up with a long list! Because we think we know the fullness of what we already like, it’s easy to get stuck in our daily eating habits and have zero to little interest in branching out and trying the cuisines of the people around us.

Having favorite foods or comfort foods isn’t a bad thing in and of itself. But when we prioritize eating food that is familiar and comfortable over accepting table fellowship with people whose cuisine is different from what we’re used to, we are missing opportunities to give and receive the love of Christ.

The gift of table fellowship was a powerful lesson that one of Jesus’ disciples, Peter, had to learn the hard way.

In Acts 10, Peter is called to go to the house of a Gentile, a Roman centurion named Cornelius, to share the gospel. While there, he is also invited to eat with the family, which requires eating a new kind of meat. In the past, Peter would have never even dreamed of touching a meat that he considered “unclean.” But God speaks to him in a vision and commands him to dine with this Roman family as a way to show God’s grace and love.

In this radical moment of table fellowship between Jews and Gentiles, in which unfamiliar food is eaten, the Holy Spirit’s power ushers in and all of Cornelius’ family comes to faith.

Want to know why it’s so important to respectfully try other people’s foods? People will see Christ through your efforts to eat the food that they love most. This is the kind of humble love-in-action that looks out for what’s best for others that Paul writes about in Philippians 2.

So, the next time you’re invited to someone else’s home, eat what they cook for you without complaint.

The next time someone invites you out to a restaurant where the menu feels unfamiliar, choose to go joyfully and ask for their help in picking out a meal.

The next time you smell a new food in the cafeteria, at church, or in your workplace, take a deep breath, smile, and genuinely ask the other person to tell you the story of their dish.

The more we embrace people’s foods, the more we show them that we embrace the fullness of their humanity the way God does.

Trying things that are new and getting out of our comfort zones is hard, but sitting in spaces of cultural discomfort for the sake of the gospel is always worth it.

 

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

Let’s Pray!

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“Be assured that from the first day we heard of you, we haven’t stopped praying for you, asking God to give you wise minds and spirits attuned to his will, and so acquire a thorough understanding of the ways in which God works.

We pray that you’ll live well for the Master, making him proud of you as you work hard in his orchard. As you learn more and more how God works, you will learn how to do your work.

We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us.”
Colossians 1:9-12 (MSG)

One of our favorite things at (in)courage is linking arms as sisters in Christ through prayer. Today we’re praying the words of Colossians 1:9-12 over you. Go back and read the passage again slowly. There is so much goodness there!

We’d also love to know how to pray for you specifically by name. What’s on your heart today? What area of your life do you want to live more like Jesus? Where do you need His strength or joy today?

Leave your request in the comments and bless another sister by praying for the person before you.

 

How to Make Peace When the World Is a Dumpster Fire

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Several weeks ago, I opened my Instagram feed and noticed some weird activity on a video I had posted many months earlier. Forty-six thousand likes! Have I been hacked? As I clicked on the post, I realized that a fifteen-second video I had made of our neighborhood’s summer block party had unexpectedly gone viral. Wow! This is cool.

The video wasn’t anything special. Just a quick pan of the street from my front porch. Neighbors gathered around folding tables we had set up in the street and kids roamed in packs like happy wild animals. It was my attempt to share a glimpse of our neighborhood magic, and I wrote a quick caption with tips and encouragement to help others engage their neighbors too.

With over two million views, this was obviously striking a chord with people. Again, my first reaction was, “How cool!”

Except it wasn’t all cool.

Most of the comments rolling in were from complete strangers. Some of them were encouraging, but as the video went viral, the comments became anonymous and cutting. For the next several days I had to be really vigilant to delete spammy comments like “DM me and I’ll send you $3,000 tomorrow!” and biting comments like “Must be nice to live in an all-white neighborhood.” My gut reaction was to spew back defensively that my husband is the first Filipino homeowners association president the neighborhood has had and that my Asian kids are the ones on the scooters there to the left. I want to point out Ms. Christina, who goes to the Asian market and brings us special candies and tiger balm every week.

But as I scrolled through nasty comments and messages about our neighborhood, our race, our demographic, and all the unimportant and untrue things being assumed as fact on a post that was meant to stir up kindness, I realized I had to decide how I wanted to treat this dumpster fire.

I could defend myself and add fuel to the blaze. Or I could take a beat and let my pause extinguish the flames.

It seems like more and more, anytime we open our phones and computers, we see someone’s extreme opinions about the latest hot topic — which appears to be almost everything. What a time to be alive, when you can communicate your inner thoughts to pretty much anyone with the click of a Send button!

Chances are you’ve also experienced this phenomenon of the unfiltered response.

I miss not being anxious about relational stress as we approach yet another election year, yet another global health issue, yet another this side versus that side. And before I can even formulate language to describe this anxiety, my body responds for me: I wear my shoulders as earmuffs. My breath quickens. I wince. My brow furrows, blood rushes to my cheeks, and my stomach hurts. If you watch the news, have social media, or talk to a neighbor, you probably know what I mean.

I close the computer and think about it all day. And “it” isn’t just my video gone viral. It’s all the backhanded comments and jumping to false assumptions. It’s the tearing down and creating us-versus-them categories for every possible issue. It’s using our words as weapons and calling it normal. It’s all of it.

I can’t help but think, I wish she hadn’t mentioned that. I wish he hadn’t said it in that way. They make me so mad. Why are people like this? Why can’t we just stop treating each other like this?

And let me say, when I’m about to actively run into an argument after reading Cousin Fred’s entire comments section in his latest fire-breathing post, I instead take a deep breath and consume truth that comes from a living and active God. A God who loves me but isn’t afraid to ask me to check my perspective.

So I pray, I am the problem. Forgive me, Lord, for wanting to murder this person with my words, for believing I am more worthy of Your gift of grace than he is. Give me the supernatural power to love someone I think of as my enemy. I can’t do this on my own.

As believers, we should be people marked not by fear, hatred, or murderous words but by peace. We should desire unity instead of actively seeking out division with our words. We should have the markings of self-control and love, not unbridled tongues that have the power to set the world on fire (see James 3:5–6). I don’t know if I really believed that until the last couple of years, but haven’t we all witnessed the destruction caused by our tongues and how they hold the power of life and death?

We each have personal accounts of our own fractured relationships and devastating losses. But lest this all start to feel a bit depressing, we actually do have great hope. Jesus tells us, “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33 ESV).

Hear Jesus speaking it to you: “In Me you may have peace. Take heart.” Notice how your body responds to the truth. It’s quite different from scrolling through a social media feed. Maybe, if you’re like me, your shoulders come down and your breath slows. As the words of Scripture settle into my heart, I can see things more clearly: We are too quick to scroll conversations and comment threads and assume we are the only ones who know the correct path. But God is our Good Shepherd. He actively searches to bring us back to Himself, reorient our hearts toward Him, and give us the peace of His guidance, care, and protection — even from ourselves.

We are not on our own when we face difficult circumstances and interactions or when we have to navigate complex relationships and complicated feelings. When we see ourselves and others with the right perspective, we remember that our words, whether written in a comment or spoken out loud, have the power to attest to a better word: God is our only hope in this world. And what good news that it doesn’t rest on our human shoulders!

Ask yourself: Where am I tempted to use my words to tear down or divide instead of to build up and bring peace?

By Jami Nato, excerpted from Come Sit with Me

Hey friends, if you resonated with Jami’s story, or if you are dealing with relational tension of any kind, you’re going to want to get a copy of Come Sit with Me. In addition to Jami’s words, you’ll find 25 other (in)courage writers going first with their own faith wrestling and hope wrangling.

Come Sit With Me is available wherever books are sold, and we’d love to send you the introduction and the first two chapters for FREE! Sign up here.

Plus, listen to a bonus episode of the (in)courage podcast to hear Jami read her whole chapter, “Will You Be a Flamethrower or a Fire Extinguisher in the Dumpster Fire of Internet Comments?” Listen here.

Ministry of Presence: Showing Up for the Grieving Person in Your Life

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From an early age, I knew how to party.

Birthdays? I show up with a present I know you’ll love. I can bake you a cake and decorate it in your favorite colors.

Weddings? My bad dancing does not keep me off the dance floor. I will throw the bridal shower, find the gift on the registry, and stay up late into the night to make sure you feel celebrated. I never needed to be taught how to celebrate you. But you know what I didn’t learn until much later in life?

How to grieve with you.

Until someone I dearly loved died, I didn’t know how to sit with you in your grief. I was so worried about doing the wrong thing that I ended up doing nothing at all.

But, and it’s heartbreaking to say, there are grief experts all around us. Not because they have studied grief, but because they have lived it.

If you are one of the uninitiated, let me tell you what I’m learning about grief: watch those who have walked before us.

There are no magical words that will make a grieving person feel better — and those who have walked the road before know it.

There are things in grief that you don’t know you need, but you do — and those who have lived through grief know it.

When my dad died, we had very few specific ideas for the memorial service, except one thing. My mom wanted a classical guitarist to play. My friend Cheri took on the entirety of that task, including finding the guitarist, providing him with a list of songs my mom wanted, and paying for his services. It was a huge gift, not only to my mom but also to me, because trying to return emails, coordinate logistics, and grieve at the same time was beyond my capacity.

In taking on that one task, Cheri was demonstrating what Paul extolled us to do in Romans 15:12 (NIV):

“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”

Last year, when my friend Denise lost her husband suddenly, I couldn’t make it to the memorial service due to other things going on. So I contacted her son and asked, “What can I do? Is there something I can pay for? How can I lighten the load?”

He told me that they were having family come back to their home after the service. I could provide the food. It felt lame and not enough, but having been in that position before, I knew that anything taken off the plate was a gift.

Here are a few other ideas to keep on hand when you need to support a grieving friend or loved one.

1. Begin your texts with the letters NNTR (no need to reply). (Yes, texts are a great way to sit with someone in grief.) These four letters allow you to support without burdening the person who needs the support. So I can send a text sending love and support, without the grieving person feeling obligated to reply.

2. Show up. For most of my life, I didn’t go to the funerals or memorial services when a friend lost a loved one because, well, I didn’t know the person. It felt like an intrusion. But what I’ve learned since losing someone I love is that those people show up because they love you and you are important to them. Not many people knew my dad, especially at the end of his life, but people were there for my mom, my brother, and me. Recently, I went to the memorial of someone I never met, not because I was grieving, but because I needed to be there for my friend who was. Not just to grieve with her but to also laugh with her and celebrate a life that was taken too soon.

3. Stop the made-up timelines. Grief looks different to everyone. I figured I would be back to work in a week or so after my dad died. Isn’t that the rule — parents you get a week or two, spouses maybe a month, and then you are expected to move on with life? Grief doesn’t have an expiration date or clear start and stop like a two-week vacation. Your grieving friend will likely need you to check in a month, six months, and a year after a death. Birthdays and wedding anniversaries are important times to reach out as well.

Grief is a sneaky and tricky companion. But grief, for all its anguish, is a needed partner in the days and months to come. And while our grief may never get smaller, the more love and support we experience makes that grief a little easier to carry day to day.

Our support can ease the burden when grief is too much to bear.

Do you know someone who is in a season of grief?
How can you support them this week?

 

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

Next Time You Feel Alone, Picture This…

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Nearly ten years have passed since I witnessed this admittedly ordinary moment, yet every month or two, it comes to mind once again.

The bare tree branches provided a clear view that February morning. If he had looked up, the man in the baseball cap would have seen a college student with a scarf wrapped around her neck, hands in her pockets, momentarily frozen on the sidewalk.

But he never glanced my way. His focus was set, his gaze steady, his stance wide.

Twenty feet to my right, the man leaned over, each outstretched hand firmly holding onto chubby toddler fingers as the little girl practiced walking, slowly shuffling between his legs.

The child moved forward inch by inch, step by shaky step, but even from a distance, I could tell she was safe.

I was two months away from graduation and entirely unsure what life would look like in a matter of weeks. I had a hundred questions and very few answers, but something subtle shifted that morning. There wasn’t an audible voice, no burning bush, no whisper in the winter wind. But in the seconds that passed before I continued on my way to class, a verse came to mind:

“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.”
Isaiah 41:10 NLT

The Message translation says it this way: “Don’t panic. I’m with you. There’s no need to fear for I’m your God. I’ll give you strength. I’ll help you. I’ll hold you steady, keep a firm grip on you.”

A smile spread across my face as I wrapped my jacket closer, struck by the idea that perhaps this was a very small picture of a much larger truth. Maybe, just maybe, it was a visual for the girl who happens to be a visual learner, a snapshot that would remain frozen in her memory, ready to be remembered when she felt alone, unsteady, or overwhelmed.

Suffice it to say, I started paying special attention to verses that talk about how we’re secure in God’s hands. It didn’t take long before the list began to grow, each one reiterating the promise of Isaiah 41.

In John 10, Jesus says that no one can snatch us from the Father’s hand. In a moment of reflection, the writer of Psalm 73 says, “My feet had almost slipped; I had nearly lost my foothold… Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand.” In Psalm 139, we’re assured that even in the deepest dark, God holds on.

Over and over, Scripture seemed to echo itself, doubling down on the promise: we are held secure. God will not let us go and never, not for a single moment, will we find ourselves walking alone.

Our steps might be shaky. We may not be able to see more than one foot ahead. We might feel like our feet are slipping, might worry about what’s around the bend, might be weary from slowly shuffling along for so long.

But as we step into an unknown future . . .

As we walk toward change, walk through what we never saw coming, walk among the ashes of what was or even, perhaps, what will never be . . .

We can rest assured that one thing is absolutely certain: we do not walk alone.

Emmanuel, the God who named Himself “God With Us”, created the entire universe and then, in great humility, made Himself small enough to be held in human hands. The One who formed man from the dust of the ground became the God-man who bent down to write in the dirt, who broke bread and then broke open, arms spread wide and hands pierced even as they reached out. And even then, all the while, He was holding each and every one of us secure, perfectly keeping every promise that was made.

Time has ticked on, but the memory of that tiny wobbly toddler secure in the hands of her father resurfaces regularly. It’s still funny to me that something so ordinary, a moment that lasted no more than half a minute, continues to circle back a decade later. But now, when I feel alone, unsteady, or overwhelmed, I try to picture myself not as the college senior observing from a distance, but as the little girl looking up at the beautifully scarred hands holding mine.

In my imagination, just beyond the hands wrapped around mine, there’s a gentle smile, a little wink, and a kind voice that says, “I had you then and I hold you now. Come what may, I’ve got you.”

His gaze is steady; His grip is secure.

Step by shaky step, we are held all the way Home.

Never, not for one moment, will we find ourselves walking alone.

 

If today’s article resonated and you’d like more encouragement, pick up a copy of Kaitlyn’s book. Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between will help you choose hope for tomorrow when today feels like a question mark.

 

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

Weak, Wobbly, and Absolutely No Clue What I’m Doing

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This year, I decided it was time to torture myself by going to grad school to get my masters in Biblical theology. I had no idea what I was getting into and if I did… honestly, I would have said no. This past week our first paper was due and I had several thoughts, one of which was, WHOA, academia is a very new and uncomfortable world for me. Why are you all so obsessed with footnotes? And another was how much I wanted to quit because I was so uncomfortable. 

To tease this out more specifically, I was really afraid of looking stupid and, in essence, weak. It turns out, I don’t know as much as I thought I did about God and faith and the ins and outs of the Bible. I have no clue how to read Greek and Hebrew nor have I been immersed in these cultures. Now that I’m learning new things, I’ve also had to unlearn some of my Western-lensed leanings. The process of unlearning and relearning, tedious research, hours of reading, and re-reading has made the learning curve incredibly steep. 

So let me paint a very clear picture:

I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing, only that I’m being obedient to what I feel God opened a door for me to do. And I am not loving how it’s poking all around at my identity, belonging, and the dreaded ego. The truth is, I am very wobbly, weak, and apparently when you work on a paper for so long, also unkempt. You should see my eyebrows — not cute! 

As we voiced our complaints to one another in our seminary cohort, a classmate reminded us that we are loved and belong whether we get an A or F- on our work. And while it feels heavy right now, she told us to remember this is not our identity. Our identity in Christ doesn’t ebb and flow with how strong and sturdy we are or if we perform well.

This reminder from my classmate might seem basic, but I can think of other times in my life when I’ve felt so disoriented and uncomfortable that I wondered if God would show up for me if I performed poorly or showed weakness. This sounds silly to put in writing… but sometimes telling the uncomfortable truth shows us how we’ve grown or where we need to grow.

Boy, am I painfully aware of how I need to keep growing and keep trusting God with my limitations.

This semester I have consistently been reminded of these verses:

“Because of the extravagance of those revelations, and so I wouldn’t get a big head, I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. Satan’s angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did was push me to my knees. No danger then of walking around high and mighty! At first, I didn’t think of it as a gift and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then he told me,

          My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
          My strength comes into its own in your weakness.”
2 Corinthians 12:7-9 The Message

Being weak feels like a bad thing, but goodness has it made me run to God and beg for His wisdom. Being weak has also helped me remember I belong with Him even when I don’t feel like I belong in my new environment.

I am weak, and He will be my strength! I feel so much lighter thinking of it this way. 

Now who wants to proofread these citations?!



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

Faith, Hope, and Love for Your Messy Life (plus a chance to win the new Inspire Illustrating Bible!)

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Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.
I Corinthians 13:13 NLT

Life often gets in the way of my best intentions. I long to be described as calm, easy breezy, and unshakeable no matter what comes my way. And yet here I am a frazzled, tired, ball of feelings.

You see, I’m a worrier by nature, often imagining twenty-seven what-if scenarios for any given situation. I’m easily thrown off-kilter into a spiral of stress that is cured only by prayer, a nap, and a snack. I say things I don’t mean most every day, I get crabby more than I’d like to, and I long to give God more control even as I grip tightly to the plans I think are best.

Maybe you’re like me and you would love to give it all over to God and let Him lead. Yet the idea of anchoring your days in faith, hope, and love feels aspirational… but unattainable. We long for that unshakeable faith we’ve seen in others! Yet we find ourselves perpetually getting distracted by the inconveniences, frustrations, and stressors of everyday life. (Do you feel me?)

But there is hope for us even here.

In my role as Product Manager for Bible Publishing at DaySpring, I recently worked through the new Inspire Illustrating Bible, which centers every one of its 300+ illustrations around faith, hope, and love. In my professional review and personal reflection of this special Bible, I came to understand that this promise in I Corinthians 13:13 is for all of us.

You may be stressed out, worn out, or burnt out, and God will meet you there with faith, hope, and love for your actual real life today.

He wants this promise in Scripture to act as our cornerstone in the chaos, helping even worriers like me to unburden ourselves, communing with the One who is Love itself. A life of faith, hope, and love is a promise for you to grab ahold of today, no matter what your life looks like right now. With God as your companion and your guide, faith, hope, and love can be yours.

Faith and hope act as the foundation of love, as evidenced by this verse. And we can embrace these things in our messy, ordinary, emotional days, remembering we don’t have to be perfect to be His.

Hebrews 11:1 (NLT) says, “Faith shows the reality of what we hope for; it is the evidence of things we cannot see.” Faith reminds us that God is in control. It’s a balm for perfectionists like me.

When combined with hope, not only are we strengthened to believe that God is working all things together for our good (Romans 8:28), but we are sustained along the way with a hope that looks like confident expectation in the goodness of God’s promises. Even on your worst days, you can cling to the promise “that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:13 NLT).

And the reason that love is the greatest of these virtues is that it binds everything together. When love is the lens through which we view the world, when love is the motivation behind our actions, when love is the way we reflect God’s character to others, everything about our ordinary days changes. When we love, we imitate Christ, who is love (I John 4:8). Love is the essence of God’s character and the driving force behind all His actions. Even the most frazzled among us can learn to love like Him when we accept that He loves us just as we are today. Love is not merely a feeling; it is an action, a choice, and a way of life.

If you’re like me – often feeling messy, disorganized, and a little chaotic — let’s remember that God never asked us to fit inside a neat and tidy “good Christian” box. He asks us instead to believe that we are His, to accept His love, and to go throughout our days leaning on Him.

This means that no matter how busy, harried, or difficult life gets, we can be filled to overflowing with faith, hope, and love. God has not given more of Himself to someone who is more put-together, organized, or well-spoken than you. No, God is with you in your real life today, offering faith, hope, and love to us all.

Go to Him today in the midst of your mess, He is waiting with open arms.

The DaySpring NLT Inspire Illustrating Bible features more than 300 ready-to-color designs, inviting readers to interact with the Word of God in a unique and refreshing way. With each of the illustrations reflecting one of the themes from 1 Corinthians 13:13, you will be able to express your creativity while focusing on what it means to be strong in faith, have a heart filled with hope, and take a posture of unconditional love. Linger longer in the Bible and spend time with God as you enjoy the relaxing benefits of coloring and creative journaling.

Plus, this beautiful Bible includes access to the Filament Bible app, which contains a wealth of resources to enhance the Bible-reading experience.

Pick up your Inspire Illustrating Bible… and leave a comment below to enter to WIN one for yourself*!

Then tune in this weekend for a very special bonus episode of the (in)courage podcast as Ellen Wildman, Product Manager of Bible Publishing at DaySpring, talks with Becky Keife about the behind-the-scenes of the Inspire Illustrating Bible! You don’t want to miss this conversation!

 

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

*The giveaway is open to U.S. addresses only and closes on 11/6/23 at 11:59 p.m. central.

Finding the Strength to Persevere and Rebuild When Life Tears You Down

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As the speaker of the parenting lecture elaborated on the destructive behavior of starling birds, she dissuaded us parents from being like them. Starlings, particularly the European Starling, are an invasive species known to exhibit aggressive behavior towards other bird species.

The parenting expert was encouraging us to find ways to build community with and offer support to other parents who may be going through a tough time with their teen. In other words, we should be a source of help instead of harm.

Intrigued by what she called the ‘starling effect,’ I wanted to know why a bird would naturally exhibit such aggressive behavior. Because truthfully, while I intend and strive to never be a starling, I have been on the receiving end of starling-like behavior. I wanted to know what motivates the starling to behave so aggressively and destructively. 

I learned that starlings are cavity-nesting birds, meaning they often nest in holes or cavities in trees or buildings. Competition for limited nesting sites can be intense, especially in areas with high starling populations. As such, starlings may evict or destroy the nests of other birds, such as native songbirds, to claim these desirable nesting locations. Starlings can be territorial, defending their chosen nesting location aggressively, even if it means displacing other birds. One way starlings assert their dominance is by acquiring nesting material, such as twigs, feathers, and grass from the nests of native birds. Starlings then repurpose these materials for their own nests.

It seems to me that starlings live in a perpetual state of scarcity. They desire what others have and are defensive, so they displace and destroy. Yikes! Likewise, life is filled with people much like the starlings that seem poised to kill and destroy our purpose. And, much like the starlings that disrupt the peaceful nests of native songbirds, life is full of adversity that can steal our peace. Just as starlings can seem determined to harm and hinder the peace and purpose of other creatures, we often encounter people and circumstances that appear to threaten our sense of peace and purpose.

If you haven’t experienced a starling in your life, you are fortunate. I’ve encountered plenty: a co-worker who coveted the favor I had with the CEO; a fellow-parishioner who believed that she, not I, should be married to my husband; a close friend who believed she deserved to have more love and material possessions than I; content creators who stole words (direct quotes) right from my mouth and published them on their website as their own; a well-resourced leader who credited himself for my idea; a family member who gaslit me when I addressed their toxic behavior. This kind of scarcity-motivated behavior is crushing. 

Fortunately, regarding the destructive nature of the starling, conservation efforts employ strategies to mitigate their negative effects to protect other birds, and thus the ecosystem.

The good news is that we, too can recover from devastation and return to our peace and purpose. 

Psalm 46:1 reminds us that God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. In times of adversity, we can trust that God is with us, providing the strength we need to overcome life’s starlings.

Here are a few key lessons we can learn from the starling effect and Psalm 46:1:

First, we can seek refuge. When life’s starlings threaten our peace, we can find refuge in God’s presence. Our faith and inner strength are rooted in our relationship with Him. Our Source can help us weather the storms of adversity.

Second, just as native songbirds rebuild their nests after starling attacks, we too can rebuild our lives and dreams when faced with setbacks. Each obstacle is an opportunity for growth and resilience.

And finally, in our pursuit of peace and purpose, we must also remember to show compassion to the starlings in our lives who are most likely facing their own challenges. Just as starlings can disrupt the nests of native birds, our reactions to adversity can impact those around us. 

As the parenting expert advised, may we never be starlings. And as we navigate the starlings that unfortunately come our way, may we find solace in knowing that, like the native songbirds, we possess the inner strength to persevere.

Let us seek refuge in God’s presence, knowing that He is our ever-present help in times of trouble. We can overcome life’s starlings and return to the peace and purpose we have in Christ.

 

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

My Beautiful Unposted Life

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Scanning through my social media feed, the images of other lives are appealing. They feature sunsets in faraway places and meals prepared with culinary flair. Several posts offer insights on living life well or how to bounce back when we don’t. 

But a recent experience gave me a unique perspective on what I choose not to share with the masses. As an alternate juror for a trial, I received the court’s instructions. The most challenging task for my extroverted soul was not talking about the case with others.

Over a three-week period, as the tragic details of the case unfolded, I could only let my tears do the talking. But there was one place where I could reveal my thoughts freely without breaking any rules — it was in the presence of God.  

“I long, yes, I faint with longing to enter the courts of the Lord. With my whole being, body and soul, I will shout joyfully to the living God.”
Psalms 84:2 (NLT)

Prayer became the platform where I shared my questions and my observations. As I read Scripture, I sensed God sharing His comfort and His truth. The more I focused on His grace, the more I appreciated my beautiful unposted life. It was filled with moments featuring insights into how God was present with my fellow jurors and me. The camaraderie forming between us and the wisdom resting upon our hearts surely came from the Lord.  

In my time spent with Him, instead of pictures worthy of likes and comments, came unexpected blessings worthy of praise. You may have your own unique season where God is doing something special in the secret places of your heart. You may not be a juror, but we each determine what events become the evidence of a full and meaningful life— the kind of life Jesus gives to those who follow Him.

My morning walks often seem like the perfect time to post a scene from nature into my social media feed. Sitting with my thoughts on my front porch can easily become a peaceful reflection to share on Facebook or Instagram. Instead, my beautiful unposted life contains moments to cultivate gratitude.

Enjoying the gift of private pauses or spending time with family and friends doesn’t lose its significance if it’s not uploaded for all the world to see. During the time I served on the jury, my social media engagement slowed. And, yet, my awareness of God’s activity increased. My jury restrictions reminded me that what impacts us the most may not land in a post for others to scroll through. As I leaned into the value of sitting with my Creator, I considered how His redemption touches the public and not-so-public parts of me. 

His truth ushers in clarity for my decisions. 

His grace is sufficient for everything in me that falters.  

His grip on my life is unending and ushers in peace. 

At times, sharing with others online can feel like granting an all-access pass to the soul. As we share our experiences, emojis display public pleasure or disapproval. But we don’t have to let the societal pressure to impress become our constant desire; we don’t have to always express something spectacular on social media.

As the trial ended, my thoughts continued to race. But processing my experience with the Lord gave me a much-needed perspective check, reminding me that the beauty of what goes unposted about my life often includes the wonder of what God is doing in my soul.

A Roadmap for When You Don’t Know What to Do

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1 Don’t worry about the wicked
    or envy those who do wrong.
2 For like grass, they soon fade away.
    Like spring flowers, they soon wither.

3 Trust in the Lord and do good.
    Then you will live safely in the land and prosper.
4 Take delight in the Lord,
    and he will give you your heart’s desires.

5 Commit everything you do to the Lord.
    Trust him, and he will help you.
6 He will make your innocence radiate like the dawn,
    and the justice of your cause will shine like the noonday sun.

7 Be still in the presence of the Lord,
    and wait patiently for him to act.
Don’t worry about evil people who prosper
    or fret about their wicked schemes.

8 Stop being angry!
    Turn from your rage!
Do not lose your temper—
    it only leads to harm.
9 For the wicked will be destroyed,
    but those who trust in the Lord will possess the land.
Psalm 37: 1-9 NLT

Whether you find your heart burdened today by what’s happening around the world, what’s happening inside your home, or even in the confines of your own heart, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed… paralyzed… confused… and unsure of how to move forward.

Thankfully God understands. He knows this world is full of trouble and heartache, and He provides everything we need to navigate our uncertainty.

Take a few minutes to quiet your mind and heart.

Tell God what is making you feel anxious or tangled, angry or unsure. 

Then read the verses above from Psalm 37. Take note of how God graciously guides us through the steps of surrendering our worries and placing our trust back where it belongs — in Him alone.

God’s help is near! As close as His Word, as close as your very breath. You need only be still.

 

What If Pain Is the Stage for Miracles?

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There was a time in my life when my parents couldn’t be in the same room with each other. As a kid, I learned to wait on the wicker love seat and stare impatiently out the big picture window. (Yes, it was the early nineties and we had wicker furniture in the living room.) As soon as I saw my dad’s black sedan pull into the driveway, I would yell to my sisters that it was time to go and we would race out the front door. Was I that excited to see my dad? Honestly, not really. I was just that eager to avoid him coming up to the house and igniting a possible confrontation with my mom.

In middle school, I remember standing up for my trumpet solo and quickly scanning the crowded gymnasium in search of supportive faces. I spotted my mom in the left set of bleachers and my dad in the farthest possible section to the right. In high school, when I got the lead in Oklahoma, my parents came to different shows, careful not to cross paths lest a community theater become a battleground.

There were a thousand spoken and unspoken hurts between my parents that spilled over into my heart. The way my dad wouldn’t help pay for my sister’s dance classes to make life harder for my mom. The way my mom didn’t hide her disdain for the summer vacations my dad took us girls on, which made me feel like my excitement was a betrayal. Fifteen years of marriage in and as many years of bitterness out. I never knew if their divorce was the right choice, the only choice. As a kid I never longed for them to get back together—I just wanted things to be different. I just wanted to escape the shrapnel of their pain.

At my college graduation, my dad pretended not to hear me when I asked him to stand next to me for a picture with our whole family—the original five. When I was getting married, my mom didn’t want to sit beside my dad and his new wife; my dad didn’t want to sit in the row behind my mom. Several verbal blowups and low blows left me gutted. Three days before my big day, I looked at my wedding dress hanging on the closet door and wondered if my dad would even show up to walk me down the aisle.

I share all this not as a catalog of grievances against my parents but to set the stage for the miracle I never expected.

Fast-forward several years to when my dad was in a difficult place in his life—well, difficult is an understatement. His second marriage had failed, as had his business and his health. Thanksgiving was approaching. Holidays are always extra complicated for kids of divorce. My sisters and I were all married at this point and had to juggle time with our in-laws and separate gatherings for our mom and dad. Now that my dad was single and struggling, the responsibility to host a celebration with him fell to one of us girls—an added stress when our individual lives were already maxed and being with Dad didn’t feel especially celebratory.

The details of what happened next have become a bit fuzzy through the fog of years. The question might have come through an email or group text thread, or maybe we were talking on the phone while I nursed a baby. Either way, I’ll never forget my mom’s words: “How would you feel if I invited your dad to join us for Thanksgiving?”

As I sat there speechless, my mom went on to explain how she understood what a burden it was to navigate three family get-togethers and how the busyness could take away from the joy of the holiday. She said she wasn’t sure if Dad would accept an invitation from her, but she felt like the Lord was asking her to extend it.

Honestly? My first thought was No way! I pictured the awkwardness of being in the same house all together. I thought about how I would take the chaos of bouncing from one Thanksgiving dinner to the next to the next over the tension of sitting at the same table with my parents for an extended meal. The family chasm caused by their divorce was way too wide to bridge with some mashed potatoes and gravy. Years and years of conflict and failed resolutions proved that reconciliation was impossible, right? So why even try?

Given our family history, this knee-jerk reaction was understandable — but it was also rooted in fear. I’m grateful to tell you that my initial response didn’t win out.

The first miracle was my mom asking my dad to Thanksgiving dinner. The second miracle was the doorbell ringing and my dad showing up in his classic corduroy slacks and argyle sweater and handing my mom a bottle of Martinelli’s. The miracles after that were too many to count.

As little ones threw corn kernels from high chairs and unspoken words passed in sideways glances between sisters, we made it through that first Thanksgiving dinner. My dad thanked my mom for inviting him and complimented her cooking. My mom thanked my dad for coming and gave him another piece of homemade pie to go. It felt a bit like I was living someone else’s life.

It was hard and uncomfortable and so very worth it. I left that dinner with a belly full of turkey and a heart full of praise. What I thought was surely impossible turned out not to be. From our pain God produced a miracle — and I’m still giving thanks.

Today’s devotion is an excerpt from Becky Keife’s chapter, “What If Pain Is the Stage for Miracles?” in our (in)courage book, Come Sit with Me: How to Delight in Differences, Love through Disagreements, and Live with Discomfort.

You can listen to Becky read the entire chapter on this special episode of the (in)courage podcast. 

I Ignored Her Phone Call

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She left a message on my voicemail. “Jen, I don’t know if you remember me, but we met briefly at church. Amy shared your contact info and encouraged me to reach out. Since our family recently moved to the area and our kids are about the same age, I thought maybe we could get together for some coffee.”

I don’t recall if I was having a bad day or why I responded the way I did, but I listened to the voice message and immediately made some snap judgments:

I don’t have time for this.
I don’t think our kids will be friends.
I don’t think we will be friends.

Therefore I don’t want to return the call — so I didn’t.

What a horrendous mistake. New to the area, Nancy stepped forward with such courage to make that phone call and I shut it down. Others might voice excuses for me – busy mothering season, other obligations, but let’s name it for what it was: sin. Without sugarcoating my decision, that’s incredibly painful to type. The reality? I couldn’t disrupt my own self-interests to think about what this other woman needed and to give that potential friendship the benefit of the doubt, so I ignored her request.

I lost out on four years of friendship with a woman who eventually became a ride-or-die soul sister because I didn’t return her call. Now Nancy has moved across the country. I will always regret my decision.

As I shared that experience with a group of high school girls, I looked around our retreat cabin. Representing different backgrounds, socioeconomic classes, schools, and personalities, I felt like I was leading a screenplay from the iconic movie, “Mean Girls.” The cool girls and the misfits coming together because they didn’t have a choice. It’s not the feel-good rom-com storyline we might choose but something transformative occurs when we throw aside the masks, allow the Holy Spirit to rattle our preconceived notions, and jolt any kind of judgments that might be lurking. And they were definitely lurking in that cabin.

Some of us reading this might not see ourselves in this story. But if I needed to be rattled and confronted with my own blind spots, maybe you do too. If we desire life change, especially when it comes to community and kingdom building, let’s admit that we like to stick with what’s comfortable. There’s a reason why we prefer sharing a table, a cabin, a Bible study, or a coffee date with people who look, talk, work, and live the same way that we do. We prefer the safety, sameness, the simplicity because it equals security. It’s easier.

Guess what I told the teen girls? Sameness and security – that’s a total lie. (Yes, I’m blunt like that.) Because following Jesus means getting dirty, and taking a risk – things none of us would choose. Following Jesus means asking, inviting, and receiving outside our constructed holy huddle. Outside our preferred cabin. Following Jesus means hanging around with people who we’ve deemed aren’t our kind of people. Following Jesus means crossing boundaries and cultural divides — social, racial, political, and more — knowing this is the essence of the gospel.

As Paul reminds us, “Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God” (Romans 15:7 ESV). Only by developing real relationships with those who are vastly different from us can we begin to address the misperceptions that persist about Christianity and the church, as well as listen to what others are really saying, even those with whom we disagree or think we have nothing in common.

I know the truth of this, but let’s be heart honest: the kinds of people Jesus hung around with on a regular basis aren’t the people with whom I’d choose to hang. Think of who was on Jesus’ invite list. Pharisees, fishermen, tax collectors. The deformed, the sick, the adulterers, the homeless, the refugees, the wanderers, the possessed, even the unclean. Risky individuals, all of them. Not someone whose phone call you’d return, yet that’s who Jesus chose to hang out with on the regular.

I asked the teen girls, “Would you have returned that call if it had been Taylor Swift? How about the popular girl at your school?”

They all agreed yes.

“What about the girl in the cafeteria who always sits by herself and just seems weird?”

After justifications, the answer was no.

Now let’s get gutsy for a minute and insert our own preferences. Whose phone call would you return? The cool Bible teacher, the social media influencer, the pastor? How about the needy lady in your church who rubs you the wrong way? The disheveled neighbor woman who makes you nervous? Do you know their story? Would you extend an invitation to them?

To live like Jesus lived means getting out of our comfort zone and taking a risk, but it’s always worth it.

And if you are one who mustered up the courage to reach out and extend an invitation, and it got shut down or worse yet, made to feel you didn’t measure up, I’m so very sorry. As someone who once ignored the call, please try again. There may be a blooming friendship waiting four years down the road.

 

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

For the One Who Is Trying to Hold On to Hope

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I’m staring at a screen as I sit in the big brown chair in our living room. On my computer is the face of a dear friend and colleague, someone I’ve worked closely with for almost a decade. I also see faces of women I’ve not met before who are part of All The Things, a group she leads.

My dear friend is walking through a hard season, as are many of the women. She reads a question submitted before the call. The exact words escape me but the gist was, “How do you have hope when you’re in the messy middle, when nothing is resolved, when you don’t know the ending?”

Ah, hope — light like a balloon, strong like steel, life-giving at times, and heart-crushing at others.

I think back to when Mark and I went through almost a decade of infertility. Every month I hoped for a baby. When that didn’t happen, I became an expert at crying in bathrooms, using too-thin toilet paper for tissue. I once yelled at pregnant cows on the side of the highway while driving home from work. “It’s not fair!” I told them, “You don’t even appreciate how easy it is for you to get pregnant!” They looked up from eating grass and stared at me, wide-eyed and likely wondering why humans are so weird.

Then God took our story in a direction I never expected. We met a young woman, Lovelle, through a local organization called Saving Grace for girls who age out of the foster system or would otherwise be homeless. God made it clear that Lovelle was the daughter He planned for us all along. She was twenty when we met, twenty-one when she changed her last name to ours. We celebrate that day in our family each year like a holiday, calling it “Gerth Day.” Lovelle met a boy, got married, and a few years later had a girl of her own. Eula, our granddaughter, was born on Gerth Day.

For so many years, I thought God’s timing was off. But He’d had it down to the day all along. Now we also have a grandson, Clement.

Going through the heartache of infertility and eventually growing our family in a way only God could orchestrate taught me about a different kind of hope.

“I think there are two kinds of hope,” I tell the women on the video call, “We can hope for. Or we can hope in.”

Hoping for involves specifics. I hoped for a baby. Hoping for is about what we want, and it can be a beautiful, powerful thing. It can also be deeply disappointing. It is a healthy part of being human; it’s just not enough to sustain our souls when nothing is going as we planned. When the pregnancy test is negative again, the story feels less like Cinderella living happily ever after with the prince and more like the wicked stepsisters sold the glass slipper on eBay.

In those times, what can see us through is hoping in. I hope in a God whose character remains the same no matter what happens. I hope in the promise that I’m part of a purpose and plan bigger than I can see. Hoping in isn’t meant to be used as a spiritual cliché or holy Band-Aid. It’s not for the faint of heart. It’s an anchor, a foundation, a still place our souls can go while the hurricane of hurt swirls around us, when the wind gusts are a hundred miles an hour and the debris of our former lives is flying through the air.

“Hoping for” may have recently drained out of you like the last bit of honey from a jar. You have a memory of what that kind of hope felt like, when you close your eyes you can still taste it sometimes, but there’s none left just now — your toast is dry as a desert. Hoping for can be both delicious and unreliable.

Hoping in, on the other hand, can be the constant that gets us through as we heal. It is something solid, stable, unchanging. “Hoping in” is not an emotion or wish, a vision or vague desire — it is a near and present comfort. “Hoping for” is about the future. “Hoping in” is about Who is real in the here and now.

I’d like to tell you that what you’re hoping for is going to come true. At the same time, I’ve lived a story with our family where I’m now so grateful all my original hopes didn’t pan out. Sometimes what we think we want and what’s truly best for us are two different things. Only God knows the difference. We can trust God with our hopes, with our fragile hearts, with our deepest hurts.

After the video call with the women ends, I sit in my brown chair a little longer and stare out the window. I think of all I have, and I feel grateful. I think of all I still desire, and I feel a familiar ache. Don’t we all live suspended between gratitude and longing when we’re healing? We sway in the wind of our feelings, trying to find surer footing.

I am hoping for better.

I’m hoping in a God who knows what’s truly best.

That is enough for this moment, enough for me to take one more step.

Are you in a hard season too? Holley’s latest devo has more hope and help for you. Get a free excerpt here!

 

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

For When Life Knocks You Down

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It’s not that I remember falling out of my car or hearing that small pop as I hit the ground. It’s the feeling of utter helplessness that I can’t forget, as my body tilted backward and my eyes found the sky. And I don’t remember how I got myself up and into the driver’s seat, with knees turned out the open door, and my wrist raised to reveal it bent unnaturally.

But I remember the bend.

It all happened early one Sunday morning. I should have been on my way to worship band practice, but instead found myself calling our keyboardist who happened to work in the medical field. In minutes she would arrive, wrap my wrist in an ace bandage, and whisk me to the emergency room. 

How does a grown woman fall out of her car? Well, the whole fiasco involved a boot with loopy laces catching on the door clip in our Honda Element. (Yes, we still have the car. But I donated the boots. And, yes, I feel bad about that.) Breaking your arm as an adult is not only embarrassing but inconvenient. For two months, my life revolved around recovering, while much of who I was and what I did were put on hold. I focused on incision management, cracking eggs one-handed, and stretching until I cried. 

I (literally) dreamed of getting back to my art studio, back to the drums on Sundays, and back to showering correctly. But life pivoted in unexpected ways after my fall. I would never wear loose-laced shoes again! But more importantly, my hand would never be the same. 

When life flips like this, we tell ourselves if we can just get to the other side of the crisis, we can get back to normal. But, that’s not how life works. 

It’s more like a pinball machine, with that little metal ball rolling along on its merry way until — WHACK — a paddle flicks out and knocks the ball in a different direction. And the ball rolls on just fine until the next WHACK. 

Sound familiar? 

We all have those WHACKS — the big interruptions in life when something knocks us in an entirely new direction and we are helpless to do much about it. Besides breaking my arm, my life was irreversibly interrupted by a miscarriage, a painful career change for my husband, and clinical depression, to name a few. I know you have your list, too.

Our monastic friends are teaching me about interruptions. I’m learning that in the monastery they keep time by bells that “interrupt” their activity to order them on to the next task. And, though the bells constantly disrupt events, they keep the monastic life in balance, with room for prayer, study, leisure, work, and meals. 

“The bell is annoying,” writes Macrina Wiederkehr, a Benedictine nun, in her book, Seven Sacred Pauses. But, she also admitted, “The bell is good. I have learned to change the annoying sound of the bell into an instrument of invitation.” And she cautions us, “Hearing the bell and listening to the invitation are two different experiences.” 

So friends — might we see interruptions as invitations, believing that sometimes good comes with what we cannot change or control? Br. Paul Quenon, in his memoir, In Praise of the Useless Life, writes, “My philosophy is to let the Lord teach me by interruptions.” Now, I am coming to believe it for myself. That, truly, interruptions can infuse our lives with meaning. 

I look back to when falling out of my car knocked me like a paddle in a pinball machine. I ask myself, What invitation came wrapped in this interruption? In what ways did my soul expand while my arm sat braced and immobile? My months of recovery held the answers. For one thing, I learned that nothing in life is a given — our plans can change in an instant. Still, more importantly, I learned to receive help.

Life knocks us down sometimes. It just does. These unwanted interruptions alter our paths in painful ways. But interruptions can also be opportunities for growth and meaning. It is okay if we do not recognize the invitation at first. And it is also okay if we only understand it once we are out of the crisis. For, clarity comes when we trace the jagged lines of our lives and watch how we are shaped, what we learned, and how we expanded. These twists can do the work of God in us — if we let them — propelling us into unexpected places and, sometimes even, unexpected blessings.

 

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

Knowing Your Worth

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“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Jeremiah 29:11 NIV

“Are you ready yet?” my dad would call out as I was staring at all the beautiful folders and notebooks at Walmart.

“Almost!” I’d shout.

I would then spend at least thirty more minutes picking out the perfect pens, pencils, notebooks, and folders for back to school. Preparing for back to school was very big for me growing up. I especially loved the moment I got my new agenda for the school year. I would have already collected tons of pictures from magazines that were “me” and saved them in a Ziplock bag, just waiting to go on the front of my new agenda. As school days got underway, I’d use my agenda to write down all my classes and homework. Oh, the satisfaction of writing “done!” next to each assignment that was complete!

Now in my thirties, life is no longer full of classes and homework, but I’m more than busy as a mom, wife, and business owner. I loved how I felt when I got my agenda as a kid but now as an adult, I have wondered how I could bring back those feelings of excitement while helping other women to do the same.

God called me to be a business owner, designer, author, and encourager (and sometimes, all in one!). I knew if I was going to create a grown-up agenda planner, it needed to be something easy and fun to write down goals, tasks, things you’re grateful for, to-dos, and even things you’d want to bring to God… so I designed just that.

Oftentimes I try to mentally recall what’s on my to-do list, and God will nudge me so I remember something important. But life can get so busy that there only seems to be enough time to get each day’s bare essentials done. It’s easy to put coming to God with our burdens or spending time with Him on the back burner. Can you relate?

Yet I’ve learned to recognize that even in the fullness of life, there are everyday moments where we can come to Him — while we’re washing dishes, folding laundry, walking to get the mail, or doing whatever work He’s called us to do. I enjoy talking to God about things while I’m driving or taking a shower; it’s peaceful and gives me space to hear from the King. Writing down our conversations with God can also help us remember and look back later to see how far we’ve come in our prayers to Him.

I feel so honored that you’re reading this today. The reason I’m here is that I answered a calling from God — something that felt so scary at the time, but I kept following His nudges step by step. I think so many of us don’t follow through with those nudges God gives us because it’s not easy or it requires change . . . and nobody likes change. But God has a purpose for us all – and we get to walk in that purpose when we are committed to listening to His voice and following His lead.

There is so much beauty in the way that God has made each of us so differently with different likes, dislikes, things we’re good at, and things we’d rather not do. Whatever you hate to do, someone else loves it, and vice versa.  If we were all teachers or doctors or gardeners, there wouldn’t be anyone else doing the things the world needs. And guess what? We all need each other, and the world needs who you were created to be with the gifts you’ve been graciously given to live out your God-given purpose.

But we can get so wrapped up in our titles, and find our worth there, instead of as a daughter of the King. I know I identify so much as a business owner and mom, and forget to realize that the same girl who loved designing for design’s sake (not work’s sake) to make my school agenda “me” is still part of who I am. God has been reminding me lately that I matter above the earthly titles I’ve been given. It’s important to remember that our worth isn’t found in what we accomplish, in our titles or labels, or in what we think others think of us. Our worth is found in Jesus!

Practice giving yourself grace this week, especially when you start to feel rushed or overwhelmed by trying to live up to the expectations you set for yourself or others have set for you. Just take a moment to breathe, then ask God to show you the one next thing He wants you to do. You are a daughter of the King! You have no one to please. He loves you just the way He designed you to be, and He wants you to replace the worry and the striving with happiness and knowing He loves you no matter what!

Devotion by Melissa Horvath

It’s so easy to get caught up in all of life’s “to-do’s” that, before we know it, we’re starting to come undone! If we’re not careful, all our running around and worry over kids and schedules and fourth-quarter sales can start to feel like an unbearably heavy pressure on our shoulders — and in our hearts.

With her beautifully designed Inspirational Productivity Journal: You are Strong & Courageous, Sweet Water Décor Founder Melissa Horvath will lift your spirits by reminding you that you are not alone. By helping you organize your weekly and daily goals, track habits, and write down what you need to give to God each day, you’ll be able to release what is out of your hands and focus on what wonderful things God has planned. With daily Scriptures and Melissa’s weekly encouragements, you’ll feel lighter and ready to face whatever comes your way.

Pick up your Inspirational Productivity Journal… and leave a comment below to enter to WIN one of five copies*!

Then tune in this weekend for a bonus episode of the (in)courage podcast as Melissa talks with Becky Keife about the Inspirational Productivity Journal!

 

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

*The giveaway is open to U.S. addresses only and closes on 10/30/23 at 11:59 pm central.

You Can Start Over

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I’ll never forget when we announced to our colleagues and friends that we were leaving our jobs in the city to move to my husband’s family farm.

We were stressed out and overworked, and at the pace we were running, we knew our family would eventually pay the price if we didn’t make a change. When I told my boss we were starting over, his jaw dropped so low it could have won a limbo competition. Co-workers chided us, saying we were throwing away our potential. Friends begged us to stay. True enough, we had respectable and exciting careers, along with built-in fun every Saturday night.

But we stuck a for sale sign in the yard, packed up a moving truck, and waved goodbye to a life that – for a while  – had seemed like everything we’d dreamed of.

There were so many times in those first few months of starting over when I asked myself, “What if they were right? What if we’re making a mistake?”

It took me a lot of years to ask another question: “What if they were wrong?” Because they weren’t paying the price of burnout and stress. We were.

Here’s what I wish that someone would have told me back then:

You have permission to start over.

No matter how much pushback you get for leaving a good thing behind.
No matter how much time and money you invested in the life that is now dragging you down.
You have permission to start over.

There’s a lot of cultural resistance to starting over. The belief that you’re too old to begin again. That you’ll fall behind if you go back to square one. That you’re a “loser” if you throw in the towel.

It took me a long time to realize that starting over isn’t for losers. It’s for winners. Real winners know when to begin again. Real winners know when to walk away from something that isn’t working and move toward a clean slate. Real winners aren’t afraid to start over in a new career, a new health program, a new relationship, or a new friend group.

Do you need permission to start over? Here’s your permission slip.

Think now of Jesus’ early disciples and followers. You could say they got permission slips, straight from Jesus, to start over. But it couldn’t have been easy. They dropped their nets, left the security of family, walked away from decent jobs, and more, to follow Jesus.

I can almost see the question marks forming in the eyes of their parents, neighbors, and co-workers. I can almost imagine their chiding:

Really? But you are making a decent living.

But, son, this is your home.

But you have so much potential.

They started over anyway. And they ended up serving God’s Son because of it.

You can start over too, if God is calling you to it.

It’s actually okay to start over. In fact, it’s healthy to think through when or where you need to begin again.

Let’s normalize starting over. Let’s normalize self-advocacy. Let’s normalize boundaries. Starting over doesn’t mean giving up; it means prioritizing what truly matters.

Here’s a roadmap for starting over:

1 – Listen to your body. She’s telling you a story with the way she sleeps, eats, worries, trembles, aches.

2 – Listen to your soul. What is your soul sensing, way down deep where the Holy Spirit speaks?

3 – Listen to God’s Word. How does Scripture align with where you are in this season?

4 – Listen to trusted mentors and friends. Ask them to tell you what they see.

Isaiah 43:19 reminds us that God embraces new beginnings. “For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?”

All these years later, I look back to see the fruit that has come about as a result of stepping into our “something new.”  It wasn’t always smooth sailing, especially in the beginning, but I can say now, with deep gratitude, that God did abundantly more than we could have imagined.

It started with that scary first step of saying, “Let’s start over.”

The same is true for you. May you summon the courage within you, and around you, to take that first step into your “something new.” May you know whether it’s time to stay, or time to start over — bravely brand new — with Jesus.

 

Check out Jennifer’s groundbreaking guided journal, Stuff I’d Only Tell God, if you need help processing your past and imagining new beginnings.

 

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