Love Is Long-suffering Like Lotus Flower Seeds

Love Is Long-suffering Like Lotus Flower Seeds

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My friend Aundi gave me a beautiful pair of lotus flower earrings a couple of months ago. I marveled over them when I took them out of the box, and she, smiling, said, “You know the significance of a lotus, right? How they grow through the mud and bloom anyway, and then do it all over again?”

I’ve always admired the beauty of lotuses, and loosely knew of their significance and tie to many Asian cultures, but until that moment, I didn’t know how hard they worked to bloom and rebloom. I didn’t know what they had to grow their way through.

Weeks later, I was on a walk in our suburban neighborhood and gasped. One of our neighborhood ponds was covered in what looked like bright pink lotus blooms or water lilies. I walked closer to observe them. They were glowing orbs of perfectly pink petals with yellow in the middle. If I looked closely enough I could see below the flowers and their pads. Each flower was connected to a long brown stem reaching through the murky, stale water.

Once I was home and had a minute to myself, I googled, “lotus flower and water lilies.” My enneagram 5 wing kicked into high gear as I collected information, noting their similarities. The influx of information fueled my wonder even further. Our neighborhood flowers are lily pads, but the differences between the two kinds of flowers are hard to distinguish.

Nelumbo nucifera. Kamala. Hoa Sen. Liánhuã. Lotus. In Korean culture, braised lotus root, yeongeun jorim, is often served as banchan. I’ve eaten it alongside of kimchi and other side dishes without realizing what it really was, or what it had grown through, and what kind of flower it grew and regrew before ending up part of the table spread.

Nymphaeaceae. Sesen. Nape. Monet’s beloved flower. Lily pad. I took in the varied names and deep cultural significance these flowers have had all over the world for centuries. Their sights and stories have been called sacred, and yet, they found me, a middle-aged woman on a walk, taken by their weekday sermon found in a suburban retention pond.

Both flowers have roots that reach through the mud and dark water, blooming beautifully anyway, sinking back into the dark, then resurrecting by day, again and again.

Right now, I wake up some mornings and wonder how long an ongoing situation will remain. Without words, I feel myself asking, “Is anything going to be different today? Will I have to push through the things I’d rather avoid, again and again? Will it ever get better?” And like the Psalmists long before me, “How long, oh Lord?”

Maybe you know those questions in an intimate way right now, too. Maybe they cloud your waking, or wake you in the night like they do for me, making your days cloudy. But God has been reminding me of the lotus and the lily pad. These living messages of hope, resurrection, beauty, and new mercies are sprinkled and placed throughout the world in neighborhoods and nature spreads alike. They have been speaking sermons, shepherding weary hearts, and even feeding bellies across the world, for centuries. They hold a piece of the truth of our belovedness in their created blooms.

God wrote love and mercy into the pages of Scripture and into the flowers and wind and trees. There’s no murky water too dark or too deep or too dirty for God’s love to take root. There’s no light or warmth too far from the layered depths of loss we find ourselves swimming in. Whatever thing you’re losing hope for, whatever ongoing struggle you face day after day, God’s mercy is moving alongside of you and will not leave.

I read that while a lotus seed may germinate, grow, and bloom in a few months’ time, it can also lay dormant for thousands of years before blooming. Can you imagine? The next time you see a lotus, it’s possible that bloom has waited a long time to become what you see. Let it be a love letter from God, for your weary heart.

“God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out; his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over). He’s all I’ve got left.” Lamentations 3:22-24 MSG

 

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Let’s Confidently Seek the Stillness

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I declined the invitation.

It was a dream speaking invite to lead a women’s retreat at a camp in Colorado. In the autumn. On my birthday weekend! I could bring my daughter to sit at a table with my books, sharing this sweet experience with her. I could connect with dozens of women who had taken to the mountains to meet with Jesus, ready to be refreshed and refueled by His presence and friendships. So many of my favorite things, and yet I hemmed and hawed for weeks over the details.

It’s been so long since I’ve spoken at an event; how do I start to shake off the dust on my speaking shoes? (Um, that’s both metaphorical and factual. I actually do have specific shoes I wear to speak!) How will I fit in my full-time job, prep for a full weekend of teaching, get my kids to all their summertime and early fall activities, and you know, sleep? What if my stories are outdated, dusty as my shoes? But what if I say no – how sad and disappointed will I be when that weekend comes? Will I regret my choice?

In the end, I declined and told the sweet program director that despite my excitement and delight over the invitation, my life right now just isn’t built for the kind of preparation and travel it would take to do an excellent job. It used to be; there were years when I clocked dozens of speaking engagements near and far! But these days, my life is quieter.

I’ve set my Instagram profile to private, protecting a modicum of peace (at least against spammy followers). My Facebook is pretty locked down too, and I’m picky about friend requests. I’ve deleted dozens of photos and taken entire albums offline in the same way I spring-clean my home, quieting and cleaning the nooks and crannies. Even my beloved blog is un-updated — old posts sit dormant and comments stay un-replied to. What kind of author makes herself outdated, more difficult to find, and quieter online?

Me. I do. Because I did the hustle thing and it’s exhausting. My life runs better when it’s quieter.

And even though I know that a quiet life is a better life (for me!), with each keystroke (or lack thereof) and ‘no’ that quiets my online life, I wonder if I’m still legit. Do I still count as a writer if my books are seven and ten years old? Am I still successful if I don’t build up a Substack subscriber list or worry about my engagement on posts or play the algorithm game on Instagram? Is it still OK to have dreams dangling out there on the horizon, waiting patiently for me to glance at them? Am I still a gifted communicator if I turn down speaking opportunities, like the one for this fall?

I’m really, actually, wholly happy in the quieted life I’ve purposefully built. And yet, imposter syndrome strikes.

Conversations remind me that others are striving for (and reaching) goals much grander than mine. My self-worth wavers as I see the likes spiking on others’ posts. And it trickles down to my family too. My kids play rec and community sports. They’re in non-competitive dance and gymnastics. We stay in every Friday night, together, with pizza and a movie. Our life is loud with six of us in one small house, full of dishes and homework and football equipment and crayons and toys and a dog. So we quiet it in other ways, and I wonder if my kids ever feel less than, in the same way I can when the likes roll in on others’ posts.

Then I remember the life Jesus seemed to live.

How He spoke to and met thousands in His ministry, and yet was constantly trying to slip away to quiet places. How He admonished loud, prideful, street corner preaching and advocated quiet prayer behind closed doors instead. How He looked to the ones bowed low at His feet, and told the louder others to take a hint.

And I think perhaps Jesus knew something that we, in our live-out-loud, post-it-all, like-counting culture, can easily forget: quieting makes space for more.

More connection. More peace. More open-handedness. More time. More room in our calendars, hearts, and homes.

As a collective, we’ve started talking about slowing down, reiterating how hustle and hurry often aren’t conducive to a peaceful life. But I think we can include quieting in that same category.

Listen, it’s not always easy. Saying ‘no’ almost always comes at a cost. But I’m hard-pressed to believe that we’ll regret the open spaces on our calendars and the little bit of extra breathing space in our souls.

Jesus knew exactly what He was modeling and what He needed when He confidently sought the quiet.

So here’s your freedom to decline the invitation. Make the account private. Fill up the donation box with the dusty shoes, and quiet the corners of your life that feel too loud. Then sit with me and let’s breathe a sigh of relief in the stillness we so confidently sought.

 

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7 Ways to Love a Friend When You Know She’s Really Struggling

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A few weeks ago, we met up with longtime friends for a Major League Baseball game. During the fourth inning, a question came up about another mutual friend of ours who lives a few states away, whom I haven’t been in contact with for years. Naturally, I pulled out my phone and started thumb-tapping her name, happy to see she was still in my contacts. Before I had time to overthink it and consider how random, ridiculous, or rude it was to pop in out of nowhere, I texted Ashley our question: “Remind me of your brother-in-law’s name, and does he still work for the Braves?” Followed by, “How are you???”

To my surprise and delight, she replied quickly. (After all these years, I guess I was still in her contacts too.)

When she replied, “I’m okay,” I intuitively understood something wasn’t okay.

“I’m okay” isn’t the answer you give when you’re doing well. It’s the same answer I give to well-meaning strangers, acquaintances, and even friends when I can’t spare the emotional energy to elaborate on all the hard things going on in my life this year, or it’s just not appropriate to share. “I’m okay” can mean “I’m not really great, but things could be a whole lot worse.” And, sometimes it means “I’m getting through today the best I can.”

During those seasons, “I’m okay” is the truth, but barely.

My friend briefly recapped what was going on in her life, including happy things alongside the hard. Regardless of our particular circumstances, grief, heartache, and loss are painful, and pain is downright greedy. It demands more than its share of attention, which is why it is so important to notice, acknowledge, and savor the good things in our lives, too.

Painful circumstances can blind us to the goodness of God, but that doesn’t mean God isn’t good. It just means the pain is temporarily clouding our vision. And, sometimes, all it takes to see God and His goodness clearly is a little help from our friends.

A transparent text exchange with a friend I haven’t seen or talked to in ages reminded me how simple it is to make a difference in someone’s life. This year has been kicking my behind since the first day of 2023, but I’m learning how to love others better simply because of how I’m being loved.

If you have a friend who is struggling, she needs you. As a believer, you get to be the hands and feet of Christ to your precious friend by loving her in a tangible way. Isn’t that beautiful? 

Wondering how you can love a friend when you know she’s really struggling?

Listen with an empathetic heart. One of the most powerful ways I’ve felt loved is to be heard by friends who are fully present and engaged. Resist the urge to offer quick fixes or solutions; instead, let your friend express herself without judgment. If she cries, let her cry. Tears are an expression of our emotions when words are not enough. God designed our bodies with the capacity to cry for a reason.

Pray for and with her. Prayer is a powerful tool — let it be your first impulse, not a last resort. Pray with her when you have the opportunity. Praying together will remind her of God’s presence in the midst of her circumstances.

Show up. People have “shown up” for me by calling, texting, sending cards, messaging on Voxer, and literally showing up at my house or work. If it makes sense, offer practical assistance to a friend who’s struggling. Help with household chores, run errands, or deliver a meal. Just…show…up.

Share encouraging Scripture. Scripture is always a source of comfort, truth, and hope. Share verses or passages that have helped you through hard times. Encourage your friend to meditate on God’s Word and find solace in His promises.

Suggest professional help. While your support is invaluable, sometimes professional assistance is necessary. Encourage her to consider seeing a therapist or seek guidance from a pastor if the situation warrants it. Assure her that seeking help is not a sign of weakness but a courageous step towards healing and growth.

Respect her boundaries. While your intentions may be genuine, your friend may need space. Even though I’m an open book, sometimes I can’t talk about my stuff. Allow your friend to process her emotions in her own way and time.

Share your own experiences. If you’ve faced similar challenges in the past, share your own experiences. A childhood friend has been an incredible encouragement because she’s walked my steps and understands my pain from the inside out. Yet try to keep your conversations focused on her needs and emotions, rather than solely on your own experiences.

Point her to God’s love. In loving me, friends have truly reflected God’s extravagant love. They’ve reminded me that God cares deeply for me and I am never alone. Encourage your friend to trust God, knowing He is working all things together for her good.

Loving friends well is our privilege as a follower of Christ, and I’m hopeful to give what I’ve received. When we love others well, we’re demonstrating the compassion and empathy that Jesus showed during His earthly ministry. The goal is always to point a friend toward the unfailing love and grace of God, which, ultimately, is what we really need when we’re struggling.

 

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In a World of Instant Gratification, God Offers You Patience

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Anna, a prophet, was also there in the Temple. She was the daughter of Phanuel from the tribe of Asher, and she was very old. Her husband died when they had been married only seven years. Then she lived as a widow until the age of eighty-four. She never left the Temple but stayed there day and night, worshiping God with fasting and prayer. She came along just as Simeon was talking with Mary and Joseph, and she began praising God. She talked about the child to everyone who had been waiting expectantly for God to rescue Jerusalem.
Luke 2:36–38

I’ve spent many years as a member of Weight Watchers, trying and hoping to change my habits and make healthier choices. Nearly every leader I’ve ever had in the program has counseled new members against impatience, warning us that weight loss — and even more so, life change — takes time. They reminded us that we didn’t get to where we were overnight, and it wouldn’t change overnight either.

This was the hardest part of my weight-loss journey — harder even than avoiding second helpings at dinner, adding more vegetables to my day, or getting back on the treadmill. Remembering that my problems had developed one day at a time, one pound at a time, even one choice at a time felt impossible when I was finally ready for change and anxious to see results.

Honestly, I’ve noticed this impatience show up in many areas of my life. Why wait for five to seven business days when I can get my packages with two-day shipping instead? Why let my dinner simmer all day in the slow cooker when I can zap it with the pressure cooker? Why begin watching a television show when it first premieres, waiting a whole week for a new episode, when after a few months I can binge the whole thing on a streaming service? And speaking of streaming, why isn’t the latest season of my favorite show available yet?

Like a little kid counting down to a birthday, holiday, or other big event — asking each morning how many more sleeps until the big day — I want what I want, and I want it right now. Whether we’re talking about something inconsequential like a television show or something significant like healing or rescue from a serious situation, most of us tend to quickly turn to frustration or even despair when we don’t get the answer, the results, or the relief we desire. In a society focused on immediate gratification, we forget the virtue of patience.

Of course, if we’re willing, we don’t have to look far to see how many good things come only after waiting. Flowers bloom in the spring, but not until they’re good and ready. Crops planted in springtime can’t be harvested until the summer and fall. We can check on that tomato plant on the back porch every thirty minutes after planting it, but nothing we do will make it produce fruit any faster. If we’re patient, though, we might learn to enjoy the process — the watering, the watching, even the waiting for the payoff in the end.

The same is true of God and His plans. We can’t make Him move any faster. But if we can learn to be still and wait for the Lord, eventually we will see Him answer our prayers, and in the interim, we will discover so much about ourselves and about God. We can grow closer to God in those seasons of waiting and see our faith deepen as we rely on Him and His good plans.

When I think of Anna in the temple, faithful and patient as she waited for the promised Messiah, I’m inspired to trust God to give me the patience I need in my own life. I laugh when I imagine Anna’s joy at seeing Mary and Joseph walk through the doors with Jesus, and I’m encouraged to wait for my own moment to exclaim, “Finally! He’s here!”

But I can’t do it on my own, and, I suspect, neither can you.

Patience does not come naturally for most of us, especially when overnight shipping and thirty-minute delivery are everyday options. But God promises to give us what we need, and that includes patience. As we face long-term challenges and seemingly unending struggles — or even when we simply can’t get exactly what we want right when we want it — let’s ask God to give us patience. Let’s ask Him to empower us to wait for Him like Anna did until the day we see His promises fulfilled.

God, it’s so hard to wait. Please help me to be patient. Remind me of Your promises and give me faith that You will fulfill them. When impatience rises in me, empower me to wait on You, and help me to pay attention to how You move even in the waiting. Amen.

This article was written by Mary Carver, and published in Empowered: More of Him for All of You.

Empowered: More of Him for All of You, by Mary Carver, Grace P. Cho, and Anna E. Rendell is designed to incorporate the five major components of our being — physical, mental, emotional, relational, and spiritual. The sixty Scripture passages and devotions invite you to see from different angles how God empowers us, and each day ends with prayer and reflection questions to deepen the learning. Grab a copy now. We pray it blesses you.

 

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Don’t Forget Your Gift

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I am not a hoarder, but I may have a problem parting with things that no longer bring me joy or have any value at all. A few years ago, I went to my parents’ house and my dad handed me a dusty cardboard box overflowing with stuff. “We cleaned out all the drawers from the chest in your old room and this has been in the garage forever.”

I had officially reached the age when my parents no longer wanted to keep any of my belongings in their house. Of course, I had to rummage through all the photos, cards, and random books I kept and share the nostalgia of my younger days with my husband.

We stumbled upon some things from our wedding, like my notebook where I wrote down all the plans, colors, and venues for our big day. “Aren’t you glad I don’t throw stuff away? This is so fun!” I kept telling my husband who shook his head and laughed at the pile of useless things that took up space in my parents’ garage all these years. Then I pulled out an envelope that was placed in a notebook. I opened it up and what was inside made my jaw drop! I was speechless.

My husband noticed how my face had changed from joy to shock. He grabbed the envelope from my hands, reached in, and took out check after check after check, all addressed to us and worth hundreds of dollars. They were all dated 05-29-2010, the date of our wedding. We were both angry and frustrated, trying to figure out how we misplaced these gifted checks. They were wasted and worthless now. Generous gifts from close friends and family to bless us and bring us joy had been set aside, forgotten, and now served as a reminder that we were foolish.

Did you know that as children of God, you and I have been given spiritual gifts? In 1 Corinthians 12 and Romans 12, we see lists of the different gifts that we have access to in order to grow in our love for God and edify others. However, I don’t think The Church, which is the collective of believers, is living and operating in our giftings. I think many are distracted by the world, some feel unworthy to be used, or others just don’t care about it. There is also the overemphasis on certain visible gifts over others within churches, which can make many feel discouraged.

The underlying reason we don’t seek out and tap into our gift is that we don’t understand the value of it.

If I had known the amount of money that was in that envelope, I would have cashed those checks immediately. But I didn’t know, so they were like any other sheets of paper in that notebook. The only way for me to grasp the value of the spiritual gift I have been given is by studying the Bible to understand its purpose.

In 1 Corinthians, after Paul lists the gifts, he gives us the analogy that we are one body, and these gifts are meant to build up the body. God has blessed me with a gift to bless you so that the body can be blessed. So essentially, we need the gifts because our gifts connect us to each other and to God. In His love, God blesses us with gifts, and in His love, we bless others with these gifts. When I squander or forget to use the gift that I have generously been given, the body suffers. So, Paul encourages The Church to, “Pursue love, and earnestly desire the spiritual gifts…” (1 Corinthians 14:1).

My salvation story wasn’t a result of someone operating in the gift of teaching or prophesying, but the gift of serving through hospitality. Someone invited me into their home for a small group meeting where I felt the presence of God for the first time and my life was changed. The person that invited me didn’t know how my eternity would be impacted, but she recognized the gift she had been given and used it for the glory of God.

So often I think about the day I will stand before God and I want to hear those beautiful words “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:23). I refuse to hoard or hide or waste my gifts. No, I want to squeeze out every last bit of the gifts that I have been given here on earth to bring God glory. To live any other way would be foolish.

 

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The Holiness of Our Mealtimes

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My mother was a Baptist, my father a Catholic. And, though my family originates from three different continents, I was raised in the Cartesian French culture that divides the sacred and the secular in a categoric way. I do not recollect, accurately, the contents of our mealtime prayers. But, to the child I was, they sounded like a mix of strict phrases from Catholic orisons and spur-of-the-moment words that I identified as Protestant.

Our intention with these mealtime prayers was to take time for spiritual contemplation before the mundane (and slightly guilty pleasure) of eating. These prayers were our collective acknowledgement that we were part of the “lucky ones” who had food on the table. For, in those days, people discovered the amplitude of the world’s food crisis all while simultaneously watching the news on TV and having dinner.

Guilt sometimes invited itself in, as we felt compelled to mention “those who do not have bread.” We prayed to the Lord to feed them, which by the way is part of our assignment. But, decades later, the words for “saying grace” do not seem to have changed much. Many still exhale the slightest trace of relief from the fear of want. It mostly goes along the lines of: Thank You, Lord, for providing.

Yet, Jesus told us not to worry about what we will eat or drink. The Lord knows we have to sustain ourselves every day . . . and we can trust Him to be faithful. With this truth, I realized that being overly thankful for receiving the basics that I need is closely related to being overly worried that I may be denied provision for those same basic needs. Sometimes, it’s as if being overly thankful reveals that my attention is focused on what I should actually be confident about.

This is why the Lord feeds us our daily bread. He wants us to trust and rely on Him, focused on the fact that we get to partner with Him and work in the harvest. We are on His team . . . so, of course, He will feed His workers. Not simply so that we are fed, but in order that we might gather strength, enthusiasm, and peace for the accomplishment of His purpose.

I’ve asked God to open my mind to a new way of seeing and seeking for His good and perfect will to be done in my life and in the life of my family. He graced me with a surprising, beautiful answer one morning while I spent time looking at the breakfast table. I contemplated a message I once heard about how Noah, fresh out of the ark, gave praise and made a sacrifice before doing anything else.

The Lord shifted my perspective and I suddenly saw that familiar breakfast table as an altar on which I contribute to Him a daily sacrifice on behalf of my family. A grateful sacrifice . . . but also a holy sacrifice. For we confess Jesus as our Lord and Savior. He is our High Priest and we are called to priesthood, called to be set apart and made holy. For this reason, I am also, therefore, presenting the Lord with the best products from the earth that I can gather as a mother. Together with my family at the table, we are presenting the Lord with the best of our hearts — no grudges, no bickering, no worrying . . . which would be like putting rotten fruit on a nicely decorated table.

All creation is God’s — that is what “bringing my best” to the table is proclaiming. Once God has received the sacrifice, we may eat it by faith. Now we see, there is a lot more happening at the believer’s table than meets the eye! For, when the Lord looks with favor at our offerings, He gracefully throws “open the floodgates of heaven” and pours out so much blessing that there will not be enough room to store it.

I am not saying we need to reinstate sacrificial rituals in order to obtain the Lord’s favor — Jesus has already accomplished it all. But I am saying that our mealtime prayers say a lot about where we stand in our walk with God. Perhaps it’s time we become more conscious of what our breakfast, lunch, and dinner tables look like.

Perhaps we pay more attention to what food we serve, to the setup, to the posture of our hearts and the quality of the atmosphere before we start to eat. Perhaps this is the holiness of our mealtimes. That, not only do we say grace before we eat, but that each member of the family might leave the table with a generous ration of God’s gift of grace.

That, at every meal we might be physically fed . . . and even spiritually nourished.

What If You Could Have Everything You Need?

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The Lord is my shepherd;
    I have all that I need.
2 He lets me rest in green meadows;
    he leads me beside peaceful streams.
3     He renews my strength.
He guides me along right paths,
    bringing honor to his name.
4 Even when I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid,
    for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff
    protect and comfort me.
5 You prepare a feast for me
    in the presence of my enemies.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil.
    My cup overflows with blessings.
6 Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me
    all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.
Psalm 23

Here’s a wild truth to grasp: everything you need is within your reach. Not wealth or social status, not perfect relationships or your dream job. But everything your soul needs is available right here, right now — in Jesus.

Reread Psalm 23 above again and note the words that express your deepest needs today.

Do you need . . . ?

Rest
Strength
Guidance
God’s presence
Protection
Comfort
Blessings
Goodness
Unfailing love
Living with Jesus forever

All of that and more is available to us when we choose to live life with Jesus, our Good Shepherd. 

What are you lacking today? Could what you need be found in the Lord? God delights in giving His children all that they need. You are His child. Ask Him. He’s listening.

 

Give Thanks for Storms

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1 Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
his faithful love endures forever.
2 Let Israel say,
“His faithful love endures forever.”
3 Let the house of Aaron say,
“His faithful love endures forever.”
4 Let those who fear the Lord say,
“His faithful love endures forever.”

5 I called to the Lord in distress;
the Lord answered me
and put me in a spacious place.
6 The Lord is for me; I will not be afraid.
What can a mere mortal do to me?
7 The Lord is my helper;
therefore, I will look in triumph on those who hate me.

8 It is better to take refuge in the Lord
than to trust in humanity.
9 It is better to take refuge in the Lord
than to trust in nobles.

10 All the nations surrounded me;
in the name of the Lord I destroyed them.
11 They surrounded me, yes, they surrounded me;
in the name of the Lord I destroyed them.
12 They surrounded me like bees;
they were extinguished like a fire among thorns;
in the name of the Lord I destroyed them.
13 They[b] pushed me hard to make me fall,
but the Lord helped me.
14 The Lord is my strength and my song;
he has become my salvation.

15 There are shouts of joy and victory
in the tents of the righteous:
“The Lord’s right hand performs valiantly!
16 The Lord’s right hand is raised.
The Lord’s right hand performs valiantly!”
17 I will not die, but I will live
and proclaim what the Lord has done.
18 The Lord disciplined me severely
but did not give me over to death.

19 Open the gates of righteousness for me;
I will enter through them
and give thanks to the Lord.
20 This is the Lord’s gate;
the righteous will enter through it.
21 I will give thanks to you
because you have answered me
and have become my salvation.
Psalm 118:1-21

We’re laughing like loons out in the middle of a field of corn. The Farmer’s got hold of the seat of his combine like he’s being shot to the moon. It’s harvest time, and a time of thanksgiving, and the corn keeps on coming.

“How in the world?” I can’t take my eyes off the combine’s yield monitor. Stunned wonder isn’t an understatement. We had a drought this year. The sky had locked up hard about the middle of June.

The Farmer had said, “I’ve never seen any crop look so desperate on this farm. If God doesn’t give rain by the weekend, there’s not going to be any corn this year.”

Come November, the digital screen of the combine monitor calculating the number of bushels per acre this field of corn yields, flashes out these little black numbers that are huge, making no sense. The numbers are a bit stratospheric. Grace is most amazing of all, defying what makes sense.

“Get out of here!” I’m slack-jawed over the high monitor spikes and the Farmer looks like he is right out of here and straight over the moon. I slap at his chest like the flapping loon that I am and he grins giddily.

“I know, I know!” And all over again, he’s that laughing teenage boy that made me blush silly.

“Who would ever have thought?” I can’t stop shaking my head.

“You know . . .” He leans over the combine steering wheel, glances past me, past me to the wagon filling with corn. “I don’t know what to think — so maybe I just thank?”

“Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his faithful love endures forever” (Psalm 118:1).

The corn’s running like flashes of glory into the wagon, streaming in and I can still see the lightning that came right after Sunday preaching way back in July. I remember the gusts of wind and the thickening black to the west. I remember the thunder that rumbled hope and how we stood on the front lawn and begged that rain to come.

And I remember how it went north. Twice. And how the Farmer had stood there, watching the rain come down only two miles away, and I’d whispered wild to him, “What if we get nothing? What if we lose the harvest?”

And he’d said it steady and certain, with the rain coming down right there, two fields over and so far away, “When you know your Father’s loving — what can you fear losing?”

“Let those who fear the Lord say, ‘His faithful love endures forever.’ I called to the Lord in distress; the Lord answered me and put me in a spacious place. The Lord is for me; I will not be afraid” (Psalm 118:4-6).

The rain kept falling to the north and he’d stood in this startling surrender. And then, just before supper, the sky had darkened with hope and opened up to give us our prayers. We all danced on the lawn in that rain.

I turn to him now in the combine, “It was that storm.” Gratitude follows grace as thunder follows lightning. “The storm gave us this yield. The storm was grace.”

There’s no harvest without a storm.

Gratitude follows grace — as thunder follows lightning. And the storm is grace because whatever drives us to God, is a grace from God. It’s all grace.

God gives grace, and ours is to give thanks. This is God’s unconditional demand: That we live thankful.

“This came from the Lord; it is wondrous in our sight. This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:23-24).

And I can feel it — there’s corn. And there’s sky and food and family and a God in heaven and a love we don’t deserve, and there’s grace that comes as storms, and the only answer to God’s unending grace is unending gratitude. When you live in a covenant of grace, you can’t help but live out a covenant of gratitude. The Farmer whispers, “Thank you, Lord,” and I murmur it too.

The way grace and gratitude echo to each other through everything . . .

“You are my God, and I will give you thanks. You are my God; I will exalt you. Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his faithful love endures forever” (Psalm 118:28-29).

This devotion is by Ann Voskamp, as published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible. It has been edited from its original form.

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We have LOVED our summer Saturdays with you, sharing our favorite Psalms + select devotions from the (in)courage Devotional Bible. Thanks for joining us! 

When Serving Changes Your Perspective

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Lazy. Entitled. No attention span. Selfish. Self-centered. Addicted to technology.

This is some of what you hear when it comes to Gen Z. Sometimes it can be accurate.

But, there’s a shift happening. And I’m here to testify.

I’ve been leading youth ministry for over twenty years. I love it! I love watching a pre-teen or teenager encounter the love of God and then dive into an intimate relationship with Him. I love watching fruit become much fruit in and through their lives.

The youth ministry at my church always goes to summer camp at some kind of fun retreat center. The kids love it! There’s always a beautiful property filled with trails and games like basketball and volleyball. And then, there’s the best part — the lake. They high dive and swim and live their best lives.

This year, our youth pastors wanted the youth to be more engaged with outreach. So, they decided to merge the youth retreat with the church’s Mega Sports Camp for ages 4-10. The camp would need leaders for the sports activities and small group leaders and overall help with the little kids.

Needless to say, a few of the youth were not excited about the change of plans. There were unhappy faces and slight complaining. But little did they know, the Lord had His own plans for the week that included some pruning and refining so that He could produce much fruit in them.

For the week of camp, the youth surrendered their phones. They grumbled a bit and thought it was the end of the world . . . but through the week their attentions and desires changed. They enjoyed conversations and games and being kids all without any distractions. New friendships were made. Old ones grew stronger. Disagreements were resolved. And a lifetime of memories were made. Their eyes, hearts, ears, and spirits become attuned to the frequency of Heaven. They began to do what the Father was doing and say what the Father was saying.

The first day of camp felt like an eternity. It was a good tired, the kind where you know you’ve poured out all that the Lord has poured into you. The youth spent each morning praying for the kids coming to the Sports Camp. They stayed at a 10 with their energy so the kids would stay engaged and feel loved and encouraged. It was supernatural. It was Philippians 4:13 in action: “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” It wasn’t their strength at all. It was the Holy Spirit filling them up to overflow with His power and grace for what He called them to that week.

From the first day of camp to the last, I watched each of our youth work hard, play hard, and sweat hard in our Louisiana summer. They led sports sessions and huddle groups talking about Jesus. They cheered on the little kids. They picked up trash around the church property, and set up and tore down tables and chairs countless times.

Throughout the week I saw Colossians 3:2 come to life: “Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.”

Leading a kids’ sports camp was not the thing the youth would have chosen on their own. But, the testimonies by the end of the week were nothing short of amazing.

One by one, they said how they weren’t excited about being a part of the sports camp, but how the Lord changed their hearts. They had fun and funny moments with the kids. They saw how much the kids looked up to them. They led discussions about Jesus, even sharing the Gospel with kids who had never heard it before.

God gave them a new perspective through serving, especially when it wasn’t what they wanted to do. It wasn’t convenient. It wasn’t in their comfort zone.

This is the shift! The Lord is doing deep heart work in Gen Z. He’s teaching them how to take their eyes off of themselves and how to first set them on Him. And then, how to see the needs around them.

He’s giving them a burden to further the Kingdom despite the cost.

He’s creating a hunger inside of them to linger in His presence.

They’re discovering how to pray for each other in faith that the Lord will respond.

They’re learning to esteem others as more highly than themselves.

He’s stirring up generosity in them to give whatever is in their hands — time, talent, resources, energy.

They’re wanting the absolute truth of God and not the subjective truth of the world.

They’re searching for the move of God in expected and unexpected places.

The most exciting part is that He’s not done. This is only the beginning of this new wave of revival. It’s starting with Gen Z but not limited to them. It’s spilling over. Their zeal for the Lord and the Gospel is fanning the flame inside of all generations alive today on the earth.

That’s God’s heart and plan, that ALL of His children would have a passion for Him and the things of Him. That we would see with His eyes of compassion, love, forgiveness, and grace. That we would serve sacrificially and joyfully. That we would ALL function as the Body of Christ to reach a lost world for His name’s sake.

I’d love to hear any stories where serving gave you a new perspective, or pray for a current struggle if you need to find that new perspective!

 

Listen to today’s article via the player below or on your favorite podcast app.

Lake Days, Stormy Skies, and Learning to Trust God for Tomorrow

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We’d planned to spend the entire day at the lake as a family. With three teenagers still living at home, each with a different job and work schedule, finding a single day when all of us were available to go to the lake together wasn’t easy. It took planning and determination.

But, by some minor miracle, the stars — and our calendars — aligned. We found a day that worked for all of us. And so we scheduled it, promising that nothing short of Jesus’ return would come between us and the lake.

Finally, the day arrived. We jumped out of bed like kids on Christmas, teenagers and adults alike. With a glance out the window, I noticed the early morning sky boasted the most brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight. Even so, to be certain, I pulled out my phone and double-checked the day’s forecast:

Uh-oh.

Sunshine until noon. Then severe thunderstorms starting at 1:00 pm, lasting throughout the remainder of the day. That meant by the time we packed coolers and beach bags, and then drove to the lake, we’d have only an hour or two to enjoy the sunshine and each other before we’d need to call it a day. Maybe less.

My heart sank with disappointment. Was it worth so much effort if our lake day ended up shortened by storms? Should we wait and see, maybe try for a different day? But I knew that was nearly impossible. And summer was quickly coming to an end.

This left us with a dilemma. Risk it and hope for the best? Or throw in the towel and stay home out of fear of the worst?

After a quick family huddle, we decided to give it a go. Sure, storms would likely blow in, and we might only have an hour or two. But we decided we’d rather enjoy the morning together than miss out on it altogether.

So that’s what we did. We packed up, drove to the lake, and spent an amazing morning tubing and waterskiing and enjoying all kinds of shenanigans on the lake. We saw the clouds begin to roll in late morning, but we didn’t slow our frolicking a bit. We just kept enjoying the time we had, relishing every moment, knowing we had no control over whether or not the rain would come.

Guess what happened?

Nothing. That’s right, nothing. No thunderstorms, no rain. Although we had an hour of overcast skies, the entire storm system moved to the south at the last minute. And the sun came out shining bright on the other side. An ominous forecast turned into a full day of family fun on the lake. And we all looked at each other with faces filled with grins: I’m so glad we didn’t stay home! Today was perfect! 

I’ve thought about this a lot since that day. How sometimes you and I allow the forecast of a possible future disappointment to rob us of the goodness of today. Yes, of course, it’s important to use wisdom and discernment when making decisions. And sometimes it’s a far better decision to play it safe and wait for another day, another season, another opportunity.

But far too often we get a glimpse of a potential catastrophe and, as a result, we hole up inside, eyes on the sky, heart tied up in knots, fearful of a future that may or may not happen. A failed relationship, an unexpected diagnosis, a potential rejection, or a professional failure. Desperate to avoid future pain, we also miss out on today’s pleasure — God’s present goodness to us right here, right now, exactly where we are.

I think this is what Jesus meant when He urged us to take our lives one day at a time:

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
Matthew 6:34

Ours is a Father whose posture toward us is love. He is for us, not against us. He is with us, not indifferent towards us. The same God who keeps His eye on the sparrow and the sun, the sea and the squirrel, knows you by name, dear daughter. He sees you, exactly where you are. And although storms will come from time to time, He wants you to trust Him enough for the future to live fully open to His goodness today.

Yes, wisdom may require you to reschedule your day at the lake. But never forget: Put your faith in the Father, not a forecast. And let the unexpected warmth of His countenance shine bright on you today, regardless of what may or may not come tomorrow.

 

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

Is God Still Good When It Feels Like You’re Being Ripped Off?

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I love summer in New England. Let’s be honest, I love any season in New England. But something happens when the snow melts and things start to bloom and it gives way to average temperatures in the high 70’s. The beaches are full and outdoor seating feels like the right choice. We spend our weekends walking outside and eating more ice cream than we should (in fact, New England eats more ice cream than any part of the country) and I can never get over the beauty of this place.

Maybe it’s the iconic shoreline or harbors or the marsh or the way that I feel like I’m living in a Lands’ End Catalogue. But whatever magic rises to the surface and touches everything in the summertime, I am here for it.

Last year, there was a drought. Our once-a-week-or-so rain just didn’t show up. Yards got brown and it felt like the coolness that once settled on the area just didn’t exist. Still, we managed with our beach days and walks and lobster rolls. But this year? It won’t. stop. raining.

I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve tried to remind myself we need the rain. But parties are being canceled and events are getting moved and plans are constantly changing because sometimes it rains for ten days in a row. And while that might be helpful in the long run, it’s really cramping my summer style. I do not like this much rain.

Honestly? It feels like I’m missing out. Like I’m being ripped off. Like I’m getting the scraps or this season is a wash. That I was a fool to hope that things wouldn’t change and maybe it’s best if I don’t get my hopes up that summer can be magic. Why would I ever believe that things can work out?

Or maybe, that’s just my heart bringing deep-rooted fears to the surface. And it’s not about the rain, but what it represents.

Why hope that rain will stop when it just keeps raining? Why make a plan for the beach when it’s just going to change? Why hope for things to go right when I’ve been proven wrong over and over again? I am at the mercy of nature and my nature is not to believe for good things. It is my nature to be guarded and slow to hope.

So when summer arrives and I, someone who might just be solar-powered, am met with rain and cloudy days? I feel a part of my heart go numb. I sense a bit of myself shrivel up. I sit inside and get quiet and find myself frustrated. I abandon hope.

The Bible is full of barren women and wayward children and exhausted parents and broken marriages. It is a chronicle of shattered hopes in the things that once made people feel safe or certain. I think of Naomi who, when her husband and two sons die, says that she left her hometown full (with a family) and God brought her back empty. She calls herself bitter. She refuses to hope.

Still, God provides for her and cares for her. Even in her loss, she is seen. Even in her lack, she is fed. Even when she renames herself Mara (which means bitterness), the book keeps calling her Naomi because her identity is not the bitterness she has encountered.

Yesterday, it stormed. Today, it’s sunny. And tomorrow it will storm again. But by the grace of God, I keep clinging to this truth: God is good. And He does not change. So He could not be better if I had a sunny, dry summer. He could not be better if everything went the way I wanted. This rainy, stormy summer is His good plan in action.

My prayer for the next month or two is to wake up in the morning and dare to hope that good things happen indoors and under umbrellas. That friendship can still grow and community can still be built and Scripture can still bring me home. Because my hope is built on nothing less than the goodness of God, rain or shine.

 

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

Embracing Your True Self in an Image-Driven World

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Between social media, society, the workplace, and even family, it’s all too easy for us to begin shaping our identity around who we think others want us to be. We may sabotage our actual needs, convictions, and aspirations, or hide parts of ourselves in hesitation of whether or not others will approve of us.

When was the last time you paused and thought about what part of you is aligned with who God created you to be, and what narratives might have been constructed by the expectation of your surroundings?

Narratives, from a psychological perspective, are the stories that we live out every day, the core beliefs that shape our self-identity. They help us understand who we are, where we come from, and where we’re going. We take on narratives about what it means to be a good mom. Narratives about what it means to be successful and significant. Narratives about how much our voice matters and what we’re capable of doing. Narratives about our worth and value.

For example, we may have bought into the cultural narrative that life is all about working and hustling and we end up running ourselves into the ground without having any outside life or meaningful relationships. Maybe we saw a parent operate this way and this example became our framework for how life should be lived. We may have assumed the narrative that we’re unlovable or easy to leave because of heartbreak or abandonment from our past, which now creates anxiety in relationships. Maybe there’s a passion or dream we feel called to pursue, but we’re living under the narrative that someone like us isn’t capable of such things, so we succumb to doubt and limiting beliefs. A modern narrative is the idea that you’re as significant as the number of social media followers you have, how many likes you get, or the size of a platform you have online.

But what if you were able to pause long enough to break away from these outer voices and pressures, to reconnect with yourself and God, to start getting clear about what is truly aligned with your makeup, your personality, your passions, your true self, and ultimately, God’s narrative for you? When was the last time you really thought about what played a role in creating your narrative, and how it has shaped the way you live today?

Why is this important to talk about? We have to understand that we weren’t born as a blank slate. We were born into narratives that were already at play in society, in our families, and our culture. If we don’t recognize those narratives, they’ll impact our lives and we won’t even realize that we’re living in a story created by someone else. The therapeutic work of breaking the cycle of harmful beliefs or choices in our own family, culture, and world begins with awareness of the stories you were assimilated into, why they exist, and what it would look like to participate in an alternative storyline for yourself.

Because to break unhealthy cycles, a new story must be lived out.

We can reframe a new narrative to create a new reality that we can then pass down, healing not only ourselves but the cycle of those walking with us and those who come up behind us. Here’s how:

1. God’s Narrative for You.
We can see down to our fingerprints that we are uniquely designed. To our current knowledge, no human fingerprint is the same. Even identical twins don’t have the same fingerprints! We are a unique combination of our genes, our biology, our experiences, our personality, our physical features, etc. In Isaiah 64:8, we’re reminded that God is the potter and we are the clay, intentionally formed by His hands in a specific way. Ephesians 2:10 defines a universal truth about our identity and that we were ultimately God’s handiwork created for good works. What is God’s narrative about your true nature? That you are loved, purposed, redeemed, called. Anything we tell ourselves that doesn’t align with who God says we are is a false narrative.

Reflect: What are some false narratives you’ve assumed about yourself versus what God’s narrative is for you?

2. Signs of Your True Self.
I truly believe that God gives us indicators of our identity that are embodied and even visceral — you can feel it. I like to call these markers of grace. When you’re graced for something, it’s out of your doing and out of your control. It’s the way you’re wired and a natural part of how God made you. The things you naturally get excited about, the things you’re passionate about and that make you feel alive and fulfilled aren’t an accident. Pay attention to these moments; they point you toward your authentic makeup and the way you’re wired. This is God’s grace in your life.

Reflect: What are some things you’ve noticed that make you feel alive and fulfilled?

3. Live out a New Story.
Reflect on what a meaningful life actually looks like to you, even if it looks different than others. What would it look like to live out a narrative that’s aligned with what works with who you are and how you’re wired? This is one reason why Sabbath rest is so important. It gives us the space and time to pause all movement so we can think intentionally about our direction in life.

Reflect: What does it look like to start living out a new narrative that’s aligned with how you’re made?

This article is written by Brittney Moses, author of Known: An Inspirational Journal for Self-Discovery.

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There are plenty of books and journals out there about “finding yourself” and “discovering who you really are.” But few of them point to the truth of Who made us and what He says about us. In Known: An Inspirational Journal for Self-Discovery, author Brittney Moses offers you the chance to discover your true identity from a Christ-centered point of view. It’s so easy to get caught up in codependency or placing value on roles in life. But when everything else fades away, you don’t have to feel lost or get stuck in disillusionment.

As in her devotion above, Brittney guides Known journalers to grace-filled truth, inspiring them with prompts and helping them uncover their God-given uniqueness along the way. 

Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN one of 5 copies*!

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

 

Listen to today’s article at the player below or wherever you stream pods!

A Glimpse of Heaven: What Children Teach Us About the Joy of Living

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Throughout the summer, a rag-tag group of 10-year-old boys gathered on the field, buzzing in the dugout that this would be the game they’d finally win.

Loss after loss, they smeared eye black on their cheeks like major leaguers, laced up their beat-up cleats, and donned their sand-stained hats. They kept showing up and smacking each other on the back, only to suffer the heartbreak of yet another strikeout, yet another loss.

As parents like me shlepped water coolers and baseball bats down to the field one last time, I found myself feeling a little disappointed on their behalf.

They were trying their best. They’d improved so much! Couldn’t they catch a break?

I hunkered down into my lawn chair, ready to cheer them on. To everyone’s surprise, the team gained momentum. Player after player crossed home plate. I marveled at their resilience. I glanced at the scoreboard. It was finally happening! They were winning!

Until they weren’t.

The first baseman fumbled. A couple of players struck out. The pitcher had more walks than strikes.

Summer sunlight turned to dusk as ballpark lights flickered on. With a score of 8-9, the other team was up to bat to polish off the last half of the inning of the last game of the season. The crowd whispered, wondering who the coach would put in to pitch in this high-stakes scenario. Whoever it was, could he hold the other team off and prevent them from scoring? 

Could he pitch through the pressure?

My eyes grew wide as my son walked onto the mound.

He looked so small, so serious.

I’m not Catholic, but at that moment, I may have just channeled my dear Catholic friends and crossed myself. I uttered every iteration of every prayer I could think of – not that they would win, but that my son wouldn’t put too much pressure on himself.

The stands held a collective breath.

Strike.

Strike.

Strike.

You don’t have to know much about baseball to know that’s a good thing. Soon, they had two outs under their belt – just one more to go. They were so close to winning they could taste it.

And then – a hit from the other team. The player made his way to third base. He was so close to home plate he could taste it.

There was a full count – three walks, two strikes. Another walk would mean the player on third would score. I saw my son wipe his brow, take a deep breath, and wind up.

Str-iiiiike!

The game was over.

Our Bad News Bears team had WON AN ACTUAL GAME!

The roar of kids screaming and laughing, dancing and cheering filled the neighborhood ballpark. Kids flooded the field as they scooped each other up.

To them, they’d won the World Series.

The sweaty, stinky kids were overcome with emotion. Pure joy filled their eyes with tears. They didn’t care about looking a certain kind of way in front of anyone else. It was genuine elation, an uninhibited celebration.

I tell you this story not because I’m necessarily super into sports – or that you have to be, either.

No, I tell you this story because these kids taught me – and can maybe teach you – something about the unabashed, unashamed joy of a child.

As we journey through life and experience many losses of our own, we can start to hedge our emotions – tamper down our experiences of joy, stifle the emotions we can barely put words to.

But what if, in that masking of self, we are also preventing ourselves from experiencing the joy God has given us? What if, in our hopes of not being “too much,” in our efforts of being “put together,” we are missing gifts from God?

What if our inhibitions are blocking us from experiencing the full spectrum of what it is to be human, what it is to be a beloved child of God?

In 1 Peter 1:8, we’re told that even though there’s so much that we can not fathom about Jesus, we can be “filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.” Notice we’re not told to expect “a grown-up measure of whatever emotion you think is socially acceptable.”

Expressing joy is not weak. It’s part of the life of faith. In Nehemiah 8:10, we’re reminded that the joy of the Lord is our strength.

The kids at the ballpark weren’t thinking about who might be watching them or judging them. They weren’t caught up in anything but being present in the moment.

I wonder, when was the last time you…

Laughed until you cried?

Let yourself fully feel your emotions without needing to package them neatly up for the sake of others?

Found yourself lost in the moment?

Rejoiced – fully – unabashed and unashamed?

Were enchanted by the goodness of God?

It may be a bit cliche, but life does give us a fair share of curveballs. We don’t always know what’s going to happen – or why. We experience loss. We grieve, and we lament. And that is all a sacred part of a life of faith. But that’s not the only part of the story. As believers, we are also welcomed into joy – and joy abundant.

We can throw off what inhibits us or entangles us, as we see in Hebrews 12. We are free to cry as we laugh, to celebrate fully alongside each other.

When I watched that mix of little leaguers embrace each other –  laughing and crying until the eye black melted down their cheeks – I saw the sweetness of the family of God rejoicing, overcome with goodness. Was it heaven? No, but it was a little glimpse of it, right on our little ball field in Iowa.

And now that I think of it, I guess that classic line from the movie The League of Their Own got it wrong.

There is crying in baseball.

And in life. 

Thank God for that.

 

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

It’s Our Joy to Pray for You

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“Every time I think of you, I give thanks to my God. Whenever I pray, I make my requests for all of you with joy, for you have been my partners in spreading the Good News about Christ from the time you first heard it until now. And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.

So it is right that I should feel as I do about all of you, for you have a special place in my heart. You share with me the special favor of God, both in my imprisonment and in defending and confirming the truth of the Good News. God knows how much I love you and long for you with the tender compassion of Christ Jesus.

I pray that your love will overflow more and more, and that you will keep on growing in knowledge and understanding. For I want you to understand what really matters, so that you may live pure and blameless lives until the day of Christ’s return.”
Philippians 1:3-10

YOU, dear (in)courage reader, have a special place in our hearts. We think of you. We give thanks for you. And it is truly our joy to pray for you.

Today we are praying Paul’s words above, from his letter to the Philippians, over you. We pray that your love for Jesus and others will overflow more and more. We pray that you will keep growing in knowledge and understanding of who God is, how much He loves you, and His desires for your life. We pray you will know and stay focused on what really matters. Jesus is coming back, sister! We don’t know when but we know that whatever troubles we face today are not the end of the story.

How else can we pray for you today? 

Lift a fellow (in) sister up by praying for the woman who leaves a comment before you.

You are so loved!

 

Give Thanks to the Giver

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Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good.
His love endures forever.
Give thanks to the God of gods.
His love endures forever.
Give thanks to the Lord of lords:
His love endures forever.

to him who alone does great wonders,
His love endures forever.
who by his understanding made the heavens,
His love endures forever.
who spread out the earth upon the waters,
His love endures forever.
who made the great lights—
His love endures forever.
the sun to govern the day,
His love endures forever.
the moon and stars to govern the night;
His love endures forever.
Psalm 136:1-9

I sat with my hands folded, struggling to maintain composure as I listened to the worship team sing, “Give thanks with a grateful heart.” Truthfully, my heart felt far from grateful and more like a chunk of cheese — sliced, diced, and shredded down to the core. It was a hard season. One that thrusts you into the hands of the Father — clinging, begging, trusting, because you have no other option.

Have you been there too? The term “give thanks” sounds easy, doesn’t it? If we were to simply remember everything God has done for us, then this attitude of gratitude should be effortless. Easy peasy. Just give thanks. Sounds a little glib if you ask me. Gratefulness doesn’t always work that way.

True thankfulness is rooted deep. It’s not something that magically appears on our tongues.

Rather, it’s a response of the heart. It’s a rendering of praise for who is behind it all — the good, the bad, the hard. And that’s a wee bit problematic because we don’t always like what’s been going on.

In Psalm 136, we’re reminded not only of who God is but also of what He has done. He is the “God of gods” and the “Lord of lords.” He is over all. He is the one true God. But this declaration doesn’t make Him a distant God. Quite the opposite. Every verse has this powerful refrain reminding us of His kind and comforting love — a love that goes on and on, covering His people and covering our sins. Oh, what mercy! Oh, what grace! How can we not give thanks?

This compelling psalm challenges us to remember creation and all its glory, to look back and soak in the wonder of the making of the heavens and the spreading of the waters. It beckons us to reminisce about the richness of His love from the depths of history — the astounding exodus out of Egypt, through the Red Sea, and into the wilderness. A miraculous escape like none other.

This isn’t another laborious account of deliverance, but a glorious reflection of His might where God acted on behalf of His people. He is a God who provides and makes a way where there seems to be no way. For that, we can surely give thanks.

It is with this foundation of remembrance that our hearts are called to respond. We give because He has given. Oh, so much! Our gratitude becomes a beautiful offering, conveying our gratefulness to the Giver of life as an expression of our love. Let’s respond wholeheartedly, echoing this chorus of adoration: “His faithful love endures forever.” Let’s dole out thanks from the depths of our souls for all He is, for all He has done, and for all He has yet to do — even when circumstances are less than ideal and our hearts feel a bit like cheese.

This devotion is by Anne-Renee Gumley, as published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible. It has been edited from its original form.

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On Saturdays this summer, we’re sharing our favorite Psalms + select devotions from the (in)courage Devotional Bible. We’re loving our summer Saturdays (in) the Psalms with you!

A Back to School Prayer for Teachers (+ a back to school sale!)

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As far back as I can remember, teachers have played a significant role in my life.

In second grade, Mrs. Barber invited me to an after-school poetry club, instilling a love of alliteration and rhyme in my eight-year-old soul. In fifth grade, Mrs. Ball could tell something was wrong when I normally got straight A’s but flunked a history test. She kept me in at recess and hugged me as the stress of my parent’s divorce leaked out in weighty tears.

In middle school, Mrs. Lunsford encouraged my imagination and said yes every time I proposed a new way of doing an assignment, like making up a song about the thirteen colonies. In high school, Mr. Allison modeled a true passion for literature and deep care for his students. He wrote in my yearbook that I could be the next Hemingway or Fitzgerald or whomever I wanted to be. And in graduate school, Dr. Bentz came alongside me on my journey as an aspiring author, generously sharing both knowledge and encouragement as I began my publishing journey.

Each of these teachers saw me. And I thank God for each one.

Now, as a mom of three kids, my gratitude for kind, enthusiastic, passionate, and skilled teachers has continued to grow. I’m grateful for Mrs. Halbert who saw my son’s reading challenges and provided the extra support we needed. I think of Mr. Vigil who celebrated my other son’s out-of-the-box thinking — making space for his wiggles and quirks instead of trying to stuff them in a hard chair. I’m thankful for Mrs. Cliffe who loved each student as if they were her own, and was intentional to call out the strengths in my other son — strengths I hadn’t yet seen.

And those are just a few highlights from my life in the classroom as both a student and parent. Highlights that don’t begin to acknowledge the long hours and endless creativity teachers pour out. Highlights that don’t speak to the lows of discipline issues and budget cuts, hard mornings and grueling afternoons and nights spent grading papers and planning lessons at the cost of time with their own families.

Yes, teachers are amazing, imperfect, profoundly important people — who need our prayers.

Whether you send your kids to public school or private school, or you choose to educate them at home in an organized schoolroom or messy living room, make a commitment to pray for your child’s teacher…even if that’s you! And if you don’t have kids, your prayers are still needed! Think back to the teacher who made an impact on your life, or perhaps the kind of teacher you needed but never had. Join me in praying for them:

Dear God,

Thank you for teachers. Thank you for the individuals who spend their lives nurturing and investing in the next generation. As teachers’ days begin again to be marked by bell schedules and lesson plans, would you mark their hearts with love, patience, and enthusiasm for their students?

Bless each teacher with the ability to see the good — the best — in each child. Enable them to encourage and equip every student to reach their full potential. Help teachers inspire a love for learning and instill confidence in each child in their capacity to grow.

Prepare each teacher for the challenges they will face. Lord, empower them to be emotional counselors, conflict diffusers, hope givers, and prayer warriors.

As teachers pour themselves out each day over essays and equations, ABCs and 123s, pour Yourself into them. Give them an abundance of hope, courage, wisdom, and joy. Gift them with parents and helpers, colleagues and administrators who champion their efforts and encourage their calling.

As teachers go back to school, Lord, grant them lavish grace for the tasks at hand. Beyond district benchmarks or state standards, help our teachers to work diligently and love their students well as unto You.

Bless this school year and bless each person who wears the beautiful and noble badge of Teacher.

Amen.

“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
Philippians 1:3 (NIV)

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Share your back-to-school prayer or tell us about a teacher who impacted you! Let’s thank God together!

 

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