I Dare You to Stay Curious Until the End

I Dare You to Stay Curious Until the End

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I am in a rocking chair, watching the sunrise while nestled in the quiet of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I look out, captivated by the hazy horizon of rolling hills. Along the walking paths that surround, I see daisies, black-eyed Susans, and all the many wildflowers scattered about, here in Little Switzerland, North Carolina.

I was supposed to come here three years ago in July 2020 before the world shut down, before everything twinkled out under the wind of Covid-19. I’d won a diversity scholarship and had been awarded a fully funded, week-long stay for a writing retreat that was to be held here. This writing retreat has been running for about thirty years, I’m told, and it is rich with a timeline of its own traditions and tales.

They call it the magic mountain, up here. When I first stepped foot on campus, I dragged my suitcase and shouldered a book bag heavier than what my back could handle. I arrived nervous, with all my clothes and all my questions. All my writing notebooks and all my notions of how I thought the week might play out.

Within minutes of arriving, I wondered if I would be the youngest one there. I wondered what on earth gave me the courage to come to this place and confess all my tantalizing thoughts about writing fiction. Who am I to be here? I asked myself. Who am I to dare dream this place might speak into the path I sense I should be on?

I’ve been here for almost a week, days folding in and out of themselves. Each day, I walk from class to class and sit around long tables, and workshop creative pieces alongside my peers. And with each passing day, my questions, insecurities, and hesitations fade. My apprehension grows smaller and smaller as these new relationships drive deeper and deeper. Then, I realize: Learning about new people and places helps me love new people and places.

One evening, after having completed my classes for the day, a woman with silver strands in her hair tells me, “It’s important to stay curious until the end.” Her words hang in my head, suspended like stars dangling in the dark of a night sky. I got to thinking about how this is true of all life — how curiosity is the fuel that feeds our compassion. Curiosity, after all, is what brought me to this retreat.

As I think back through the years, I see a thread of curiosity woven throughout the chapters of my life.

Curiosity is what compels me to walk city sidewalks in search of restaurants with foods foreign to my tastebuds. It’s what’s taken me across the world, traveling to Quito and Puerto Vallarta and Lübeck and Ahrensburg. Curiosity is what whispers to me to lean towards my husband with longing in the many moments when we don’t see eye to eye. It’s the deep-down desire to seek out the good in others, the good in all things, even when the world seems to offer anything but.

“Stay curious until the end,” she says — and those words will forever stain in my soul. I want them to hang in my heart forever. I want to always be a student of life — always learning, always going low to hear the lesson in the lilies, the sermon in the stories, the hope in the heartache held out with human hands. I want to stay a seeker — of beauty and wonder. Of loving my neighbors. Of God and the countless ways He keeps this heavy world suspended among the bright stars.

Far be it from me to think I know it all.

Far be it from me to think I’ve seen it all.

Far be it from me to think I’m the only one who has something to offer.

Far be it from me to think I’ve ever arrived.

I’m beginning to pack up to leave this retreat now, but I sense this thread of truth will continue to be unpacked within me for weeks to come. As I leave this magical mountain, here is what will never leave me:

Curiosity is the fuel that feeds our compassion. And compassion is the gateway to seeing and serving the ones around you. And I want to be that always. I want to be the one who stays curious and compassionate until the very end.

Don’t you?

 

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It’s Not Your Job to Change Your Family

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I breathed in slowly through my nose, the way I always do when trying to stay calm. My hands gripped the kitchen counter like my life depended on it, turning my knuckles pale white. It was all I could do to try and keep it together; to not say something I would regret.

It had been less than two hours since our families had gotten together. Less than two hours before the first tense moment rippled through us, bringing a screeching halt to the conversations and putting everyone on edge.

I wasn’t even surprised when it happened.

It was the same old behaviors. The same complaints and sharp tongues. The same people bursting into tears. It was like watching a horror scene from a movie in slow motion, knowing that something horrible was about to happen, but still unable to do anything about it.

I’m usually on the periphery of these outbursts; the outsider, looking in. I watch in silence, thoughts whipping through me like a raging storm: Should I step in? Should I try to “help”? What would I say? What if I made things worse? Why is my family like this?

Families can be difficult. That’s probably the understatement of the year. But it’s true. Sometimes, I wake up and wonder, How is it that the people I have spent most of my life with can be so different from me? Or, perhaps the question I should be asking is, Why am I so different from the rest of my family?

It’s amazing that people who practically spend 24/7 with each other can come to have dialectically opposing personalities, political views, theological stances, parenting philosophies, and lifestyle choices.

There can be such heartache in families. Frustration that our families are trying to change us. The grief of not being accepted for who we are. There’s constant bickering, trying to get the other person to think or behave more like us.

Constantly trying to change each other is a recipe for disaster, and a good excuse to avoid family get-togethers during the holidays.

But something I’ve learned over the years is that my job is not to change my family; it’s to point them to the Change Maker.

In Ezekiel 36:26-27, God says, “I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.”

The way God compels people to change is like a gentle current, like the breeze on a cool autumn day. His Spirit guides and nudges us, slowly tuning our hearts toward Him, and toward the goodness of His ways.

Most often changing a person’s heart from stone cold to warm and pliable takes time. Whether it’s realizing they need help or choosing not to say hurtful things; whether it’s turning from a life of sin or being open to new ideas, change in a person will be measured by the course of decades, not months, and certainly not minutes.

Nevertheless, the power to change a person is God’s and God’s alone. Not mine.

Knowing that it’s not my job to change my family is liberating. When I’m with my family, I don’t need to win arguments or put someone in their place. I’m not trying to be the smartest person in the room. I don’t need to be that annoying family member who harps on someone over and over until I’m beating a dead horse with my advice.

My job is simply to love and encourage my family in ways that align with Scripture. The last thing I want is to communicate that I will only love them if they act and think like me. Making our family feel like our love is conditional based on their level of transformation does not represent the heart of God.

So now, in moments of family conflict, I try doing the following:

  • I try to make sure everyone involved feels heard and understood.
  • I work toward helping everyone feel acknowledged and validated for their views or feelings.
  • I remind my family that they love each other and are on the same team.
  • I share a Bible verse that would encourage someone and make them feel empowered.
  • I ask how I can pray for them.

It’s much easier to love our families just as they are when we see ourselves as cheerleaders instead of coaches. We’re not trying to make them more like us. We’re trying to gently, lovingly point our family toward Christ, and trust that He will bring about His good work in them according to His perfect timing.

 

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Pray: Daily Moments to Quiet Your Mind and Center Your Soul

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Then He said to His disciples, “Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; nor about the body, what you will put on. Life is more than food, and the body is more than clothing. Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap, which have neither storehouse nor barn; and God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds? And which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature? If you then are not able to do the least, why are you anxious for the rest?”
Luke 12:22-26

What are you in need of right now? Is it material? Is it physical? Emotional? All of us regularly experience the need for something.

Some needs might be more urgent, and some might be more long-term.

Thankfully, God knows our needs and wants to meet them. His desire is for us to experience life to the full through Him. But how do we learn to trust God to meet each of our needs and not live with panic and worry when we face scarcity?

Take a minute to calm your heart. Go to the place where you feel most at ease and relaxed. Find yourself a comfortable position. Close your eyes. Breathe easy. Prepare your heart for prayer and imagine the tension in your body unwinding and the anxiety in your head and heart slowly decreasing.

In the Scripture passage above, Jesus mentions how the creatures He created have no need to worry about how they will survive each day because He feeds them. When we get in our heads too much about our material needs, we lose our focus on the Provider. And you are infinitely more precious and valuable to God than the animals He created, so He will provide richly for you! You are the crowning glory of His creative masterpiece.

God is asking you to trust Him to provide for you. Worry won’t change your circumstances, and it will steal your peace and your joy. Today, you can be confident in God and in His provision. He lovingly cares for the flowers and birds He created — and He’ll care for you with even more love and attention.

PRAYER
God, I praise You because You supply all my needs. I sing praises to Your name, for You hold the universe in the palm of Your hand. I worship You because You lovingly care for Your creation. Sometimes the pressures of my daily life distort what matters most to me. Lord, please forgive me for chasing after things that don’t bring me closer to You. Help me to long for You alone.

Thank You for guiding me through seasons of anxiety and restlessness. You are so good, and Your mercy endures from generation to generation. Thank You for sustaining me and providing for my needs. Thank You for taking care of me and my loved ones. You give us all we need. You are here with me, and You are listening.

Even when I’m overwhelmed, help me to not give up.

Help me lean on You during hard times and trials. Help me push past the mundane and unending demands of life. Give me faith to trust in You to care for me. Amen.

This is an excerpt from Pray.com’s new devotional, Pray: Daily Moments to Quiet Your Mind and Center Your Soul.

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Building a habit of prayer can help calm anxiety and silence fears, bring peace regardless of your circumstances, and help you refocus your attention on God’s glorious plan for your life.

Pray: Daily Moments to Quiet Your Mind and Center Your Soul is a collection of Pray.com’s prayers inspired by Scripture, and is designed to help you step into a quiet, focused space. With 100 entries that include a Scripture passage, a devotion, and a written prayer, this companion for daily moments with God will inspire you to connect with your loving Father. As you reflect on His Word, you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for — and enjoy a time of conversation and meditation with the One who always hears you.​

Whether you’ve been following God for a while or are just starting your journey, the daily readings in Pray: Daily Moments will help you to align yourself with the promises of God and build deep lines of communication with your Creator.

Pick up your copy of Pray: Daily Moments today, and leave a comment below to enter to WIN one of five copies*!

Pray.com serves millions of Christians worldwide with powerful life-changing messages. Pray.com prioritizes prayer by bringing users world-class faith-based audio content and is a private social network for prayer with daily devotions, original content, and stories narrated by inspirational celebrities.

 

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The 2 Words that Will Help You Stop Diminishing Your Dreams

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I was fifteen when I went to an evening Easter service and accepted Christ into my heart. I remember feeling unsure about what I had just done, but excited about the ways my life could be different. I was told that this was the most important decision of my life. And I was told that God could and would do amazing things because of my decision to follow Him.

But, I’m going to be honest – that’s not what happened.

At my first Christian summer camp just a few short months later, the director took me aside and asked me to wear something “more appropriate” so that I wasn’t a “distraction.” I was wearing the camp t-shirt. The same camp t-shirt as everyone else at the camp. (Turns out the only “distraction” was that I was developing earlier than the other girls in my cabin.)

Another time, after a Wednesday night group gathering, I was told by one of the youth leaders that I needed to “act more ladylike” and “not be so loud” in the group.

What I kept hearing, over and over again, was that after accepting Christ (especially as a girl) there were a lot of no’s that needed to be observed, and that Christianity was primarily a list of things that I needed to avoid. When it came to my school friends, some of my favorite things to do (dance, play card games, listen to music, etc.) were no longer acceptable behaviors, and the only reason to have friends that weren’t Christians was to evangelize to them. My friendships outside of church started drifting away. And it wasn’t just my friendships that were shrinking. It was also other areas of my life, like my hopes and ambitions.

I learned to diminish my dreams because what if they didn’t come true? Wasn’t that a bad witness, a bad testimony of God? What if I told other people about my dreams, they didn’t happen, and I caused them to lose faith in God?

Yes, I’m recovering from a lot of messed-up thinking from my early days of church. It took me decades to realize that those voices I heard were not from God, but from people around me who knew it was easier to control others when they are kept small.

It took a lot for me to learn how to listen to my own quieted, muffled voice from deep within that simply asks, “What if?” to questions that would have been automatic no’s in the past.

What if you tried writing and speaking?

What if you spoke out about the things that seem wrong at church?

What if you questioned rules that were made up by people?

What if you regained some of that ambition that you abandoned in your twenties and thirties because it didn’t work well for others in your life?

What if you married a guy with two kids, when you already had two kids?

And most recently, what if you left the city, moved to the mountains, and started a whole new life?

What our kids have lovingly called a midlife crisis, we now refer to as one of the best “What if’s” of our lives.

Five years ago, we bought property in the Sierras for an Airbnb and writing retreats. We have now turned it into our writing retreat center/full-time residence and it’s been the best thing ever.

But what if it hadn’t worked out? What if we’d hated it up here in the mountains? Even in the hardest times, when what we’d hoped and dreamed for did not come to fruition, we could look back and often see God’s hand in it all along.

A loving God doesn’t make our dreams smaller but gives us the vision, creativity, support, and wisdom to make our lives bigger.

If you’re like me and your dreams have been muffled, you might have stopped saying, “What if.”  But God puts a path in front of us, and our goal has to be not to be distracted by everything that wants to divert our attention or change our course.

Proverbs 4:25-27 says, “Let your eyes look straight ahead; fix your gaze directly before you. Give careful thought to the paths for your feet and be steadfast in all your ways. Do not turn to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil.”

So here’s what you need to know about learning to say “What if…”:

1. It’s okay to start small.

Learning to ask “what if…” questions can feel overwhelming. So don’t start by asking a big, “What if we moved to the mountains?” question. Try a smaller what if, like…

  • “What if I took an online class to gain a skill that could help me get a new kind of job?”
  • “What if I took a writing class to start on my memoir?”
  • “What if I made a friend outside of the circle I have now?”

2. And it’s okay to dream about something big.

You can begin to ask yourself questions like…

  • “What if I moved to a community that was away from what I know, but might be better for the life I want?”
  • “What if I applied for a job that I want, but may not be 100% qualified for?”
  • “What if I started dating again?”

When we decided to move to the mountains, it was one big decision, supported by dozens of smaller decisions.

We had talked about moving to the mountains a lot — but not until we retired. And then we started to ask ourselves, “Okay, would it be possible to make it happen sooner rather than later?” We had to make a lot of small changes if we were going to make this really big change. We started looking for a church in the mountains, and asking what the chances of my husband working remotely would be. We also had to determine if we’d be okay living all alone, just the two of us, without our social circles, coworkers, and even our adult kids in “come over for dinner” distance.

3. Start dreaming those dreams and making those small decisions.

  • Buy the book.
  • Take the class.
  • Check-in with human resources at work and ask the questions.
  • Talk with your spouse, parent, sibling, or best friend.

Friend, look for ways to make your life bigger. To trust God more. Look for opportunities to fight against shrinking to make others comfortable. You don’t have to downsize who you are.

Because God has bigger things in store for you.

Want to learn more about the red house in the mountains? Click here to check out Kathi’s new book, The Accidental Homesteader.

 

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Take Heart . . . Your Labor in the Lord Is Not in Vain

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Several summers ago, I was gardening wildflowers. It was therapeutic — weeding and watering the cosmos, blanket flowers, cornflowers, and other delicate beauties that graced the yard. They brought me more happiness than I could articulate. (This is probably largely due to the fact that I’m not a gardener-type at all, and plants that survive me are a mini miracle.)  

When mid-August ushered in the beginning of the end of the growing season, I grew so depressed that I refused to work in the garden anymore. (A super mature response, of course.) At the time, it felt like that tiny piece of heaven-sent goodness was coming to a screeching halt, and I just couldn’t bear to watch it all end. 

Then I stumbled upon the art of flower hammering. 

Flower hammering literally involves hammering a flower, often between two pieces of paper. When pounded or hammered, the flowers leave an imprint. It’s so easy a kid can do it . . . but it’s so complex and satisfying that adults write books about the art. 

It’s a great stress reliever if you want to make art and use a hammer. But, for the flower, it is a painful kind of art. After you hammer a flower, its petals are reduced to slop and have to be scraped off and chucked, thrown away. So why would any kind and loving person pick exquisite blooms and obliterate the life out of them?

Because the pounding of the flower preserves the beauty of it long past its lifetime. The beauty of the flowers in my garden withstood time, long after the blooms withered away.

With restored happiness, I experimented for hours. I even made dozens of cards with these hammered flowers to give as gifts, hoping to share some of the beauty.

I discovered certain flowers worked better than others. Some flowers left great color but then faded; others left true color. Some stages of certain flowers’ lifespans worked better than others, but this all depended on the flower. Each kind of flower required a different amount of pressure. This was the trickiest part because over-smashing sometimes just left a blotch, while not enough pressure sometimes didn’t leave an imprint at all. 

As I hammered the flowers, I didn’t feel bad for squashing them, as their growing season was nearly over anyway. Instead, I was looking forward to beholding the beauty that their imprints would preserve for years.  

Then, it hit me like I was in the front seat of an object lesson. 

“For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”
Hebrews 12:2

Our Savior, Jesus — fully man and fully God — was hammered to a cross. Like my pounded flowers, He was reduced to a slop. He suffered for our sake; He withheld nothing. He gave up His life, securing for us the most beautifully infinite and intimate connection with our Heavenly Father.

But that was only part of the object lesson . . .

“For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God. For, ‘All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever.’ And this is the word that was preached to you.”
1 Peter 1:23-25

The thing is, we are like those flowers. Though our lives are fleeting, Jesus gives us the privilege of leaving a legacy through Him.

We can look to Jesus when life hammers us — when we’re battle-weary from all the pressures . . . when we wonder if we’re really making the kind of difference we hoped we’d make. 

God knows what kind of “flower” He made each of us and what degree of pressure is needed to leave the imprint He desires on our lives. And, because our heavenly Father has decided to conform us to the image of His Son, we can trust He knows exactly how much pressure is needed for this process. No more, no less. 

Sister, our pain is more than transient torture. With every yielded hope and surrendered expectation; with every thought taken captive and made obedient to Christ; with every fear entrusted to Him and every tear-filled care cast upon Him . . . we are leaving a legacy. Though pounded and hammered, we are leaving an imprint that points to the image of Christ.

Take heart, for you are dearly loved and your labor in the Lord is not in vain. Your life, however hope-filled or hammered, will leave a mark of beauty that will long outlast your earthly visit.

What If You Started and Ended Every Day with This?

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I love you, Lord, my strength.

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;
    my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,
    my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise,
    and I have been saved from my enemies.
The cords of death entangled me;
    the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The cords of the grave coiled around me;
    the snares of death confronted me.

In my distress I called to the Lord;
    I cried to my God for help.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came before him, into his ears.
Psalm 18:1-6

What if you started every morning and ended every night with the simple declaration, “I love you, Lord, my strength”? 

When we center our thoughts on God — on His love, His presence, His strength in our lives — we will experience the peace we long for.

Calling out to God won’t always immediately change our circumstances, but we can rest assured that He hears our cries. God is our source of help, hope, and strength. Declare your love for Him today!

 

God Has Been Near

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The Lord is gracious and compassionate,
    slow to anger and rich in love.

The Lord is good to all;
    he has compassion on all he has made.
All your works praise you, Lord;
    your faithful people extol you.
They tell of the glory of your kingdom
    and speak of your might,
so that all people may know of your mighty acts
    and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.
Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom,
    and your dominion endures through all generations.

The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises
    and faithful in all he does.
Psalm 145:8-13 NIV

 

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

For every pain and every grace you may have experienced this summer, God has been near. Each tear has been recorded, the waiting has not been wasted, and God has not left you or abandoned you. So, let the peace of Christ be a balm over your hearts, and let’s repeat these truths from Psalm 145 as we look to the end of this month:

The Lord is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and rich in love. (v. 8)

The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises
and faithful in all he does. (v. 13)

The Lord is near to all who call on him,
to all who call on him in truth.
He fulfills the desires of those who fear him;
he hears their cry and saves them.
The Lord watches over all who love him,
but all the wicked he will destroy. (v. 18-20)

Hallelujah and amen.

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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 – and we’ve still got a couple more to go!

Good News: One Day, the Sea Will Be No More

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There are mornings (ahem, months) I can barely bring myself to look at the news, at social media, at updates coming in from around the world.

Chaos and disaster, suffering and disease, confusion and division . . . they’re all within reach, as near as the closest device. “Come, Lord Jesus” escapes in a whisper and echoes in pixelated captions. It’s all too much, so much more than we were created to hold, and our hands are already full, our hearts already heavy from the stories of loved ones who are hurting.

I sat and stared at the Atlantic a few weeks ago and had a short conversation with God. It went something like this:

God, there’s no end in sight, in more ways than one, and I’m here again asking You to do what You’ve done before. From where I stand, there is literally no way. But if You parted the waters then, You could part the metaphorical ones now. Please, God. Please do. Please be exactly who You are. Make a way. Still the chaos. Push the waves back. Clear a path through the seemingly endless blue. You’re the only One who can and it looks straight-up impossible, like there’s no chance in the actual world. But You’ve done it before. Would You do it again?⁣

I could tell you that He did, that I woke the next day and everything had changed, but that would be a lie.⁣ From my vantage point, it’s all still blue, blue, blue waters swirling and stretching as far as the eye can see.⁣

But this morning, as I read Matthew 8, a smile began to tug at my lips as I remembered once again the lesson I learned in a college classroom.

In ancient times, expanses of water were tied to darkness and chaos. The sea was believed to be where evil had a foothold, and it was often featured as God’s opponent. If you read Scripture through that lens, watching for references to water, you’ll be amazed at how God’s goodness is woven through.⁣

The Spirit hovers over the waters at creation. The Red Sea is split for the Israelites to walk through. Jesus is baptized in the Jordan River and walks on the Sea of Galilee. And there, in Matthew 8, we find the disciples, many of whom grew up on the water as fishermen, terrified by the sudden storm and confused by the God-man who was sound asleep in the boat.

In verses 26-27, we’re told that after they woke Him, Jesus “stood up and told the wind to be silent, the sea to quiet down: ‘Silence!’ The sea became smooth as glass. The men rubbed their eyes, astonished. ‘What’s going on here? Wind and sea stand up and take notice at his command!’”

Jesus wasn’t in a deep sleep because He was indifferent to the crashing waves; no, He was completely at peace because He knew that although chaos might appear close at hand, it is never in control.

As my college professor would be quick to point out, we must remember the promise found in Revelation 21:1. There, at the end of the story sitting on nightstands and at the beginning of so much more, we’re told that the sea will be no more. Every storm will be stilled and all will be made new, every drop redeemed into a river of Life with waters as clear as crystal (Revelation 22:1). Fear will be replaced with peace, heartbreak with beauty, devastation with joy. One day, chaos will be permanently calmed.

Here in the middle, Dr. Leonard would say the Hebrew invitation is to “tiqqun and tiqvah.”⁣

In Hebrew, tiqqun means ‘to heal, repair, or restore.’ Tiqvah means ‘to hope’ and comes from the root word for wait.
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As much as we’re able, we tiqqun. Through the Spirit working within us, we serve and love one another, bringing peace to chaos. But ultimately, we tiqvah, waiting with hope and resting in the promise that a grand restoration is already on the way.⁣

There is still the plea of “Come, Lord Jesus.” There is still the desperate prayer of “do it again.” There are days our hearts break as our fingers scroll, and there are very real storms that will never be shown on a screen or posted to a social media feed. But there is a deeper assurance like an anchor in the waves: We are not adrift in a sea of chaos.

No wave can overtake Him, no storm can overpower Him, and no wind can shout louder than His gentle whisper. Our tears might fall and mingle with the blue, blue, blue that stretches on, but Psalm 56 says God leans low, low, low collecting each one. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll find Him in the waves, a kind twinkle in His eye and a smile on His face as He says “Keep watch, daughter. Beyond what you can see from where you stand, a way is being made. Even now, the promise is coming true. Chaos never gets the final say.”

May we watch and wait with hope. The waters might rise, but our friend Jesus is familiar with waves and one day, hallelujah, the sea will be no more.

If today’s post resonated and you’d like more encouragement from Kaitlyn, her book Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between will help you choose hope for tomorrow when, at least for now, you’re still in the middle of the storm.

 

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4 Things the Garden Is Teaching Me Now

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It’s gardening season, and the thing about having ADHD is that we go really hard into hobbies. We may spend an inordinate amount of time and money on something we might not be able to maintain for too long, but by golly, it keeps us busy and entertained for a bit. My hobby this year was gardening. “At least it’s useful!” I say to my husband as he sees another trip to the local nursery pop up on the bank statement.

More than what it’s providing for us physically, I am finding so much spirituality there too. Here are a few things God is teaching so far:  

1. Remember when I moved the peonies? They did bloom wonderfully last summer, to my relief. But oddly, this summer they only gave me one round of blooms as opposed to three or four in years past. I stood over them wondering how I could have helped them grow better or what was going on. The thought occurred to me that sometimes grief shows up belated. They were traumatized from the move, they were doing their best, and this year just wasn’t their year to produce like crazy. I found myself having compassion for the peonies and their big move, not bitterness that they didn’t make enough flowers for me. I pruned and fed them, and let them just be. It made me wonder how attentive God is to us, how He isn’t interested in our productivity, but in our well-being. How He stands in the hot sun, with the shears and the nutrients, and compassionately understands why we just can’t be so useful and bloomy all the time. If I am like this over flowers, what is God like over me?

2. I started my cucumbers from seed this year. This is something I said I would never do because I wasn’t “good at plants.” The funny thing about listening to yourself is that you start to believe those words eventually. As it turns out, I am not bad at plants at all, I was just afraid of failure and afraid to try something new. Once I gave myself permission to give it a try, I actually loved it! My cucumbers are producing like crazy. Yesterday I pulled five off the vine and squealed with delight at how one little seed could make such a bounty. I was slicing them to make pickles and saw there were thousands of seeds in one cucumber. God in His very nature, down to our own vegetables, tells a story of His abundance. He doesn’t run out of seeds or goodness towards you. He is a God of abundance. It reminds me of the fishes and loaves story in the Bible: You bring Him a small thing, and He multiplies it a thousand times.

3. In past years, I never pruned my basil. I would only take leaves from the stem when I was cooking but that’s about it. In the summer heat, they would bolt up tall and flower and lose their steam. This year, I learned the proper way to prune and I was really nervous it might not work. But I did it anyway, scared. Now, I have a basil forest! I can’t make enough pesto and am begging my neighbors to come grab some. It reminds me of God pruning us; it doesn’t feel like it’s doing anything but feeling bad. It feels like He’s taking something away from us. But remember, we don’t love an angry, spiteful God. We love a generous and abundant God. And what I love about pruning my basil is that even the stems I cut off, when put in water, create roots and are used to make even more basil plants. Everything pruned is used for good somehow. For us and for others.

4. The other day, the tops of my carrots were huge and showy and magnificent. I decided they were ready to be pulled. I was so excited as I lifted them out… until I looked at the carrots. Short and stubby, and not even enough to make much of anything with them. I laughed and googled what went wrong. “Clay soil doesn’t give carrots enough room to grow. You must add sand.” Sure enough, my soil was really thick. I planted the right seed — but in the wrong kind of soil. Next year, I’ll know better and improve. I think about that with the dreams God has entrusted me with. Sometimes I plant them in the wrong kind of soil and when it doesn’t work, I quit. What those dreams needed wasn’t inattentiveness, or quitting, they needed more space, not less! Ask God if there’s a dream that needs more space in your life and see what He shows you.

Lest I bore you with more lessons (trust me, I have endless ones!), I mostly want to tell you:

 “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”
Matthew 13:31-32

Maybe you’re not a gardener, but the Bible is full of seed and garden language because it is something physical and tangible we can look at and say, “What is God doing with the small things? What is He doing with my tiny seeds planted in hope?” I tell you, nature is proclaiming that He is doing much with them! 

 

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Did You Know Appreciation Could Be THIS Powerful?

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She wept as her sister celebrated. They had both invested time and intention to improve. And it showed! As I watched them perform during the dance recital, I could not believe that this was only their second year with the dance studio. They had developed into phenomenal dancers in such a short time! During the awards ceremony that followed, her younger sister received a merit award recognizing her hard work and improvement for her age group. While she was happy for her younger sister, the win stung as the merit award for her age group had gone to another dancer.  Her sister’s win was like salt in her wound. As she grappled with her emotional whiplash – happy for her sister while upset about her own loss – I contemplated how to navigate simultaneous celebration and sorrow. 

I jumped up and down in proud applause for our youngest daughter who received the award. It was wonderful to have her hard work acknowledged before hundreds of dancers and families. Then I stretched open my arms to wrap big sister in empathy and encouragement. She sobbed, sharing how she felt that her little sister was always in the spotlight of accomplishment, praise, recognition, and reward – while she seemed to be standing still in her little sister’s shadow. My heart sank. I could see that while she was disappointed that she did not win the merit award for her age group, the source of her devastation was rooted in comparing herself to her sister. 

I know the illusion of comparison all too well. In a world constantly bombarding us with images of success, talent, and achievement, it’s easy to fall into the trap of comparison. I told my daughter about the many times I’ve peered through Instagram’s window at someone else’s life, skills, and accomplishments, measuring myself against them, and inadvertently compromising my own efforts. Comparison diminishes my self-worth, suffocates my dreams, and hinders my progress in fulfilling the purpose for which God has uniquely designed me.

My daughter was shocked to learn that I too have allowed comparison to wound me. She reasoned, “You’ve helped so many people. My friends think you’re awesome. You’ve written books! How can you feel overlooked?” 

I asked her if she’d noticed the phrase ‘We are so grateful to have you here’ taped to my mirrors and on the wall in my office. I placed it there to remind me to let appreciation clear the illusion of comparison. Appreciation is powerful! By shifting my perspective towards appreciating my efforts and progress, I counteract the harmful effects of comparison. Appreciation enables me to embrace my uniqueness, celebrate my accomplishments, and foster an attitude of gratitude for myself and the work I get to do.

Appreciating our efforts acknowledges the journey we have embarked upon. Each step forward, no matter how small, is a testament to our determination and resilience. Recognizing the dedication we invest in our pursuits helps build a sense of self-worth and confidence. When we appreciate our efforts, we give ourselves the motivation to keep pushing forward, knowing that progress is being made.

Also, appreciation helps us acknowledge our unique abilities and gifts. Each one of us is fearfully and wonderfully made by God, blessed with distinct talents and skills. When we focus on appreciating our own capabilities, we are reminded that our journey is not a competition against others. Instead, it is a personal quest to fulfill the purpose God has placed within our hearts. By recognizing and nurturing our unique strengths, we can make a positive impact in our sphere of influence.

Finally, appreciation fosters contentment and joy! When we constantly compare ourselves to others, we tend to dwell on what we lack or what we perceive as shortcomings. However, when we appreciate our efforts, we shift our perspective to the progress we have already attained. Contentment brings peace and frees us from the burden of constantly striving to measure up to someone else’s standards.

So, together my daughter and I reflected on our journeys. We considered the progress we’d made, the obstacles we’d overcome, and the unique talents we each possess. We acknowledged what we appreciated about our efforts. While it would be nice to be recognized for our work, being granted an award is certainly not our motivation. We committed to honoring and celebrating our accomplishments instead of overlooking them through the lens of comparison. And we will continue to trust God to guide and equip us as we faithfully pursue the purpose He has for each of us.

Let this encouragement sink in: “Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life” (Galatians 6:4-5).

Heavenly Father, thank You for the unique gifts and abilities You have bestowed upon me. Help me to appreciate the work You have given me and to find joy in the progress I make along the way. Fill my heart with contentment and guide me to use my talents for Your glory. Grant me the strength to resist the temptation of comparison and to focus on fulfilling the purpose You have designed for my life. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.

 

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The Gift of Simple Encouragement

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Kind words are like honey—
    sweet to the soul and healthy for the body.
Proverbs 16:24

One summer morning, we accidentally got to the library eight minutes early. On the surface this doesn’t seem like a big deal . . . but with three spirited boys, eight extra minutes can feel like eight hours. At the time, my sons were seven, six, and four — the perfect ages for high curiosity and low impulse control. As we entered the small outer foyer and I realized the main library wasn’t open yet, low-grade panic set in. My kids were not cut from the “sit still and wait patiently” kind of cloth.

So they returned our bag full of books, slurped water from the drinking fountain, hid under the massive stairwell, and asked a gazillion questions. There was a trip to the bathroom and a thorough investigation of a row of cupboards foolishly void of padlocks. As the minutes inched on, more people joined us in the waiting vestibule. Staring eyes weren’t in short supply.

“Be aware of others. Stay near me. Quiet words, please,” I reminded them often.

My boys weren’t being bad. Just inquisitive, antsy, talkative, active kids. And after eight minutes, their mama was exhausted. When the clock struck ten, the large sliding glass doors finally opened. The small crowd slowly descended into the sanctuary of books. Jude jumped and Elias squealed and Noah started to sprint as I reminded them again to please walk and use inside voices.

An older woman who had been waiting nearby caught my eye. “It’s going to be a long summer,” she said.

“Yeah, it is,” I replied with a weak smile and a sigh.

Then her eyes brightened, and her smile warmed. “But you’re doing a great job. Thank you for being here,” she added.

I had braced myself for a stranger’s rebuke — parenting in public in the little years made me sweat with anxiety. But instead of judgment, I was met with the kindness of simple encouragement. All I could do was whisper thank you. She gave me a knowing nod and entered the library as I followed my sons — my back a bit straighter, my steps a bit lighter.

A small, unexpected thank you from a stranger. A word to make someone feel seen. Is there an easier gift of kindness to give?

So I pass on these sweet words to you: Thank you. Thank you for changing diapers and reading stories. Thank you for going to work and still making dinner when you’re dog-tired. Thank you for cheering at swim lessons and folding laundry and answering the billionth question to quench a little person’s curiosity. Thank you for helping your neighbor and listening to your coworker. Thanks for getting to church early to set up or staying late to tear down. Thanks for mentoring that teenager. Thanks for doing your mundane job with a smile. Thanks for putting one foot in front of the other.

Thank you for being you. No one else could fill your shoes.

TODAY: Choose someone to give the gift of simple encouragement.

 

Written by Becky Keife, adapted from The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact

When the world’s problems loom large and your ordinary life stretches you thin, is it still possible to be a difference-maker? Absolutely! One small, intentional, extravagant act of kindness at a time. The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact by Becky Keife will help you to stop getting buried in busyness and distraction and discover countless opportunities for impact right where you are.

Rather than trying to do more, learn how to see more: more of the people in front of you, more of God’s lavish love for you, and more of His power within you. Grab a copy of The Simple Difference now. We pray it blesses you.

 

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I’m Learning Sometimes Failure IS Success

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“Have you failed yet?” My friend and coach asks my workout partner and me this during an early morning session. We both shake our heads. “Then you’re not done.” We take turns adding more weight to our bar until we can’t lift it. After we’re finished, we high-five each other and cheer, “We failed!”

Before you think I’m some super athlete, let me give a few disclaimers. I’m awkward and naturally uncoordinated. I run like a duck. I managed to injure myself on a stationary bike. I fell down in the middle of class today (yes, really). But I do love getting stronger — mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually.

One way I’m doing so is by reshaping how I see failure. At the gym, we’re told to “go to failure” on certain exercises. In other words, figure out the maximum you can do, which you only find out by failing. When that’s the task, failure is success.

The world tells us the opposite: “Go for success. Make sure you look good. Don’t try anything too hard. Play it safe. Keep your image intact.”

But the Apostle Paul said, “I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10 NLT). When I read this verse in the past I sometimes thought, “Whew, Paul, you’re a little crazy.” But lately, I’m starting to understand.

We see moments of failure as reasons for shame. But what if we shift our perspective? When you “go to failure,” it means you have given your best. You’ve tried as hard as you could. You refused to give up. You used every bit of strength you had. You didn’t fail; you found your growth point. Once you’ve gone to “failure,” it’s time for recovery, to ask, “What did I do well and what do I want to do differently next time?”

I recently walked through a challenging situation. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to fix it. I did and said everything I could, but the outcome remained the same. I kept telling myself, “You failed.” But now I’ve started to say instead, “You went to failure, which means you did your best, and that’s all anyone can do.”

What are you working through right now? Maybe there’s a broken relationship you can’t mend, a goal you can’t reach, a dream that hasn’t yet come true. You might have a vision for your future and keep falling short of it, something you’d love to create that isn’t turning out how you see it in your mind, or you’re wrestling through hard questions with your faith. Perhaps you’ve felt discouraged or disheartened, compared yourself to others who seem stronger, or keep asking the question I did, “Why am I so weak?”

The answer: You are not weak. You are choosing to “go to failure.” You’re pushing your limits, You’re growing. You’re getting stronger. The next relationship you have, you’ll be wiser. The next project you work on, you’ll know more. The next risk you take, you’ll have greater courage.

The really good news? You won’t be doing it alone. God will be with you in every moment. When my partner finally failed at lifting her weight I said, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Then together we lifted her bar.

God says the same to you. He’s got you. No matter how weak you feel today, you’re still making progress. You may have maxed out for now and that’s okay. Well done for giving it your all. Now it’s time to rest, recover, and try again when you’re ready.

Remind your strong-but-weary heart of this today: Sometimes failure is success.

Are you in a season where you need more strength and encouragement? You’ll find it in Holley’s devotional book, What Your Mind Needs for Anxious Moments! Get a free except here.

 

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5 Truths You Really Need to Let Sink in Today

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God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.
Ephesians 2:8-10

You might already know these, but sometimes the truths that are most common are the ones we need to revisit and really let sink in.

You are saved by grace!
All you have to do is believe in God. He does the rest!

God’s grace is a gift!
You don’t have to earn God’s love or favor or help. In fact, you can’t! All you can do is receive the gift of His love, forgiveness, and grace.

You are His masterpiece!
God is so delighted with who you are and how He made you.

You are made new in Jesus!
You are not the mistakes you’ve made. God calls you a new creation and sees His beloved daughter every time He looks at you. 

He has good things planned for you to do!
If you feel aimless or insignificant, you can trust that God has a plan and purpose for your life. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide you each day — He’ll show you what to do.

Remembering Builds Our Faith

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Praise the Lord, my soul;
    all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
Praise the Lord, my soul,
    and forget not all his benefits—
 who forgives all your sins
    and heals all your diseases,
 who redeems your life from the pit
    and crowns you with love and compassion,
 who satisfies your desires with good things
    so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.
Psalm 103:1-5

Some of the best conversations with my kids happen at bedtime. The thoughts and feelings tumbling around in their young minds and hearts tend to surface in the slow quiet of evening, and I’m always surprised by what’s on their mind or how they’re processing events of the day.

After a day filled with lots of highs and a few lows, one of my daughters sighed with gratitude in her two-year-old lisp, “Today was such a fun day!”

Content, she fell asleep. Only ten minutes later, I sat with another one of my young kids who had stubbed his toe, and the conclusion on the day was quite different: “Today was the worst day ever!” How like us to forget the heaps of happiness we’ve experienced when we encounter something unfavorable. Human nature tends toward negativity. Complaining, contrasting, and competing come naturally.

Perhaps that is why God told the Israelites throughout the Old Testament, “Remember!” On numerous occasions, God commanded the Israelites to build altars, signs, or symbols as a means to help them remember who God is and what He had done, and these signs were to serve also as a prompt to teach and remind their children about God (Joshua 4).

Remembering builds our faith.

We will face moments throughout life when we feel overwhelmed, confused, conflicted, or hurt. We might not know how to make it through the day, what is coming tomorrow, or the grand plan for our future. We might feel worried, afraid, or out of control, but even then, we must remember. We must preach to ourselves and stir up worship inside of us and remember what we know:

God is for me.
He loves me.
He has chosen me.
He will provide for all my needs.
Nothing is too difficult for Him.
Nothing can separate me from His love.
God is good, working all things for my good and His glory.
I can rest in Him because I can trust Him.

Through remembering, we open our eyes to see God — who He is and how He works — and set our minds on things above (Colossians 3:2). As believers, we must renew our minds daily (Romans 12:2) and think about things that are excellent, lovely, and worthy of praise (Philippians 4:8-9).

Believers, we must remember.

Remember God’s deeds. Remember His character. Remember the gracious benefits He gives to His people. Do not forget. Remember!

This devotion is by Erika Dawson, 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!

 

And today, listen to the (in)courage podcast for a special Bonus Episode with author Georgia Brown!

How Hungry Are You for Wisdom?

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The seagulls swoop and soar above our heads waiting for the moment we’ll walk away so they can raid our snacks. I stay put on our beach blanket, guarding what’s ours, because I refuse to share our goodies with the beady-eyed creatures and their potentially germ-infested feathers. The kids call for me to fetch them a bucket of water from the ocean, and I’m torn between protecting and playing. But I drag my body away from my post and oblige. I tell myself childhood only happens once and to be the present parent I want to be. Soon, though, their giggles and fruitless efforts to build a sand pool make me stay and laugh with them. I snap photos and record videos because one day I want them to be able to look back and remember who they were.

I sneak a peek at our precious snacks, and I notice at least three seagulls creeping up on our blanket. They bob their heads to the left and right as if they’re casually taking a stroll on the sand. “Nothing to see here,” their beady eyes seem to say, but I’m onto them and run back to shoo them away.

They flap a couple of yards away, but they stay close. They’re persistent and patient and always at the ready.

I generally find birds to be disgusting, but this time, I see their scavenging as shrewdness, as wisdom. I think of Matthew 6:26, which says, “Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are?” For those seagulls, the Father was feeding them through the chips and crackers spilled by children along the beach shore. The nutritional value of the food probably wasn’t great, but they were fed nonetheless. The wisdom I saw in those birds was this: they received what was provided. They looked for food, found it, and went for it with boldness.

I wonder, then, about the times I’ve asked God for wisdom but waited around for it to drop from the skies instead of actively seeking it. Or the times I’ve asked but didn’t receive what was given to me because of the way it was provided or because of the messenger it was given through. I wonder if my preferences become pickiness and I end up foolish instead of wise when God’s been providing wisdom for me all along.

My friend, Chantel, often quotes the idiom, “Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.” Not every advice or encouragement or warning should be taken in whole, but neither should it be thrown out in its entirety. Wisdom is being able to pick out the truth from the things that don’t matter and feeding ourselves accordingly. I’m not great at this as I like to receive what I like the way I like it. I can be incredibly childish and immature and stubborn in that way, and I am more often than not. But I want to learn from the birds. I want to be hungrier than I am picky for the wisdom God wants to give me.

If we are more valuable than the seagulls at the beach, then God must be providing wisdom for us more abundantly than we can imagine. So when the opportunities to learn and grow in wisdom present themselves, we need to be shrewd enough to find the truth and open enough to receive it. Our job is to be like those birds – hungry, persistent, and ready to receive what is given.

 

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It’s Not Just a Table

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As tears streamed down my face, I tried reminding myself, “Jen, you’re only saying goodbye to a table.”

I understood the reality of that statement. Yet… while it’s an inanimate object, our kitchen table represents a lifetime of memories, meals, and milestone moments that span nearly three decades. It’s more than simply a table, yet somehow last week in a spontaneous act of earning cold, hard cash, I posted our kitchen table and chairs on Facebook marketplace.

To say I didn’t think this through on an emotional level is an understatement.

Nice “stuff” isn’t important to me. I’m the queen of thrift store shopping and this table was purchased secondhand when our children were only babies. Before the internet, I’d page through the classified ads to furnish our humble abode, and when the newspaper description stated this table could seat up to ten people (or more if we smooshed), I knew this was the one.

My vision for gathering around our kitchen table started small. A day-by-day family routine that served more scratches, spills, and spaghetti stains than suppers. But as I extended additional invitations, it became a standard-bearer of sorts for curating sacred moments. Passionate about the power of family meal time, our normal ordinary rhythm became a call to linger, exhale, and pause amidst the hustle and bustle of everyday life. A time to give thanks, share bits of our day, and remember who called us to the table in the first place.

Within hours of my spontaneous sale, someone messaged that they were on their way and the memories started bubbling over.

How could I sell the only table our children have ever known? For twenty-six years, nearly all our meals have been eaten here. Our five kids spit out their first veggies at this table and then scribbled with a permanent marker across the top in the name of creating art. We cheered on potty training success with their favorite ice cream cake in the same spot as the marker, and then in a blink, the same recipe was shared here for their graduation.

When I told our adult kids I sold the table, our eldest son jested in our family group chat, “Well Mom, that is the most special table and I don’t know if we can come home and eat family dinners on any other one.”

Celebrations and tears. Prayers, praise, and petitions. Sacred songs and silly banter. All have intersected around our life-giving table.

In Acts 2, we witness how the believers’ steadfast devotion to simple, everyday choices – God-honoring teaching, biblical community, prayer, and mealtime together — became the launching pad to their explosive revival in the church.

 “And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts.”
Acts 2:46

More than seven hundred times the imagery of eating laces itself throughout Scripture, but this simple phrase, “day by day,” gives me pause. As I scroll through Instagram, my life feels so chore-like, so “daily” compared to others. I have nothing extraordinary, no great stories to share. And yet, could our seemingly common, day-by-day, hour-by-hour, mundane faithfulness be the catalyst for a strong legacy that can shift the next generation?

As I processed the sacredness of this table transition, it hit me: Thousands, yes, thousands of guests have joined us around this very ordinary table. Day by day, meal by meal, bread is broken, His Word revealed, and the true Bread of Life nourishes amidst the most daily of rituals.

My tears continued. Our table isn’t quite as busy as it once was when we had little ones . . . but I began to think about the new family who might gather around its edges. In a moment of crazy, I shot out a plethora of texts to the woman buying our table. I found out that she has three young boys. (We have three boys and two girls.) And that commonality was all the encouragement I needed to share the back story of our beloved table and impress upon her the power of gathering with her family for mealtime. What I’m sure started for her as, “Facebook Stranger Lady, I just want to buy your table,” turned into deeper conversations. We even have another meet-up planned for one last “chair” exchange.

Who knows what the Lord has planned for the next season of this second-hand table? It’s served our family well and now there are new life-giving stories to tell. One thing I’m certain of: It’s not “just a table.”

If you want to see my table and hear my heart on the day I sold it, check my Instagram highlight.

 

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