This Is the Ordinary, Extraordinary, Grace of God

This Is the Ordinary, Extraordinary, Grace of God

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Last weekend my family drove out to the countryside for a graduation party. The guests of honor were a pair of siblings. Their mom was my babysitter growing up, like a pseudo-big sister. She gave me the BEST hand-me-downs (remember Guess? jeans, Clinique bonuses, and neon jewelry??) and she named her Cabbage Patch doll after me. I was a junior bridesmaid at her wedding 27 years ago (how is that possible?!) and she was at my wedding 16 years ago.

And so to the country we drove, to eat cake and let my kids run in the abandoned pasture and celebrate her kids, now grown and flying the coop.

I grew up with her in my life because our moms were best friends. We had Easter dinners and egg hunts at their home. We would go trick-or-treating in their neighborhood, ending at their house with a candy dump in front of the fireplace. Every Christmas, their mom would cross-stitch a personalized ornament for each of us; when we got married, our spouses received their own. And now our kids have their own growing collection of hand-stitched ornaments too.

Slowly, over time and through widening gaps, the friendship between our moms has fizzled. But ours hasn’t.

On that celebration day, even without the original friendship present, my family was welcomed with tears and open arms. We were issued firm invitations to visit their beautiful home up north. My kids were lavished with love and gasps of ‘how much they’ve grown!’, and they reciprocated with how much they treasure the cross-stitched ornaments and books they receive every Christmas.

It was grace on full display, glittering and showing off as it shone like a department store window at Christmas time.

The next day was Father’s Day, and in church we sat behind a pew that was stuffed with a family. Sitting crammed together, shoulder to shoulder, all in black, with a grieving dad in the middle of the crew. Only weeks prior, his 13-year-old son died in a bicycle accident. Over 800 people attended the funeral. Our community has rallied and cried, our own middle schoolers asking hard questions and learning how to process the loss of a friend. I dropped a casserole on his doorstep that day, blinking back tears at the basketball set by the front door, fully aware of the futility of comfort in noodles and melted cheese. On that bitterest of Father’s Days, he was in church and his family was with him. Surrounding him. Passing tissues to one another during poignant moments in worship. Remembering and questioning and praising still.

It was grace, quietly and undeniably on display like the calm beauty of a loon floating on a glass-surfaced lake.

My husband is traveling for work this summer, and recently he was gone for a week. Three of our four kids were also away that week at various camps, so it was just me and my two-year-old at home. One morning after dropping him at daycare, I stopped on the way home to pick up my Target order (diapers and sparkling water — must-haves.). When I checked in, a little popup surprised me. I could order Starbucks and someone would bring it to my car alongside my diapers! What in the name of glory! I added a vanilla sweet cream cold brew and a little sandwich, and sure enough, when the young Target employee arrived with the cases of diapers and sparkling water, he also handed me a Starbucks bag right through my open window. Inside was a neatly wrapped sandwich, and my iced coffee stickered closed and standing upright in a drink holder. The ordinary extraordinary of that bag overtook me, and I almost cried right there in the parking lot.

It felt like extravagant grace sweetly on display, like a cold glass of fresh iced tea on a hot summer’s day.

That night, my toddler awoke around 2 a.m. He was crying for his daddy, and all I could offer him was my own arms. And a drink of water. And a clean diaper. And a snuggle in my bed. Before long he was snoring away and I was wedged into a fraction of my bed, little feet firmly planted on my back and a pudgy hand holding my hair. He slept soundly and while I drifted in and out of sleep myself, it was a gift to see his thick eyelashes drifting over his cheeks right there beside me. Barely over a decade ago was I awake at night, praying for a baby at all. And now an embarrassment of riches with four, all beautiful and growing up so fast I can’t keep up. That night, I tried (as all moms do) to take it all in because we know how fleeting it is, even while parenting is as hard as it gets.

It was grace sleepily on display, cozy and reassuring as a bedtime story under a warm handmade quilt.

This is the ordinary, extraordinary, grace of God. When we pay attention, we see that it oozes and seeps through each crack in our lives. It shows up and shows off in big and small ways, both loud and quiet, not clamoring for our noticing but patiently waiting for us to turn our heads and hearts to its glory.

And when we do, it can change everything.

Where are you seeing the grace of God these days?

 

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3 Things to Encourage Your Heart (and Others) Today

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Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder. Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality.
Romans 12:11-13

There is nothing we love more at (in)courage than clinging to God’s truth together and praying for one another. 

Today, we invite you to do three things:

  1. Share a verse in the comments that is encouraging your heart.
  2. Leave a prayer request.
  3. Pray for one or more of the women who commented above you.

“I mean this. When two of you get together on anything at all on earth and make a prayer of it, my Father in heaven goes into action. And when two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I’ll be there.”
Matthew 18:19-20

 

Hold Tight to His Heart

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How happy is the one who does not
walk in the advice of the wicked
or stand in the pathway with sinners
or sit in the company of mockers!
Instead, his delight is in the Lord’s instruction,
and he meditates on it day and night.
He is like a tree planted beside flowing streams
that bears its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.

The wicked are not like this;
instead, they are like chaff that the wind blows away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand up in the judgment,
nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked leads to ruin.
Psalm 1

When hard news comes, when difficulties happen, we can be tempted to think that if our life is a Farmer’s Market the stalls will now be empty. There will be only fragile leaves chased away by the wind. All the glory and color will be gone. But the reality is this: As long as we are joined to Jesus, there will be fruit in our lives — from the time we are sneaker-wearing teenagers to silver-haired senior citizens blowing out one hundred candles on the cake. In other words, there will always be miraculous things coming to and through us.

The fruit in our lives will thrive. That doesn’t mean nothing hard will ever happen or we’ll get everything we want. But it does mean that God’s plans for our lives are invincible when we stay connected to Him. Life’s droughts and storms can’t stop Him from bringing forth His miraculous work in and through us.

So let’s cling to God’s promises. Hold tight to His heart. Have strong roots that burrow deep into His affection for us. We will not falter. We will not fail. We will not lead a barren life at any age. Yes, we will be women of beauty, growth, and blessings as long as we live. Because we are trees planted by the river of God’s love, and it will never run dry.

This excerpt is by Holley Gerth, 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!

Come and Agree with God

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I’ve rarely considered myself beautiful. 

There have been days – certain outfits, certain hairstyles, certain photos – where I’ll think, “I look pretty today.” But the first time a boy called me beautiful, I could hardly believe him. 

Capable? Yes. But beautiful? That seemed harder to hold onto, more elusive. 

In the first few pages of the Bible, God crafts and creates man and woman – carefully, tenderly, and utterly on purpose – and then He stands back, admires His handiwork, and deems them very good. Not just good. Very good. 

The only thing is: most of us don’t agree with Him. 

Maybe we believe others are good. Our friends, our sisters, our daughters. We see their beauty and goodness from miles away. But us? Many of us hardly think of ourselves as good, let alone very good. 

Years can go by, but you likely still remember the way a comment lodged itself deep inside your heart. And often, we don’t simply remember the comments that were made but we can still feel the hot shame that crept up our backs and burned into our cheeks. I think it’s why so many of us don’t believe we’re very good.

It takes immense courage to ask Jesus to show you the wound, and to let His kind and careful hands dislodge the arrow from your heart.

My niece just turned five years old. I curled her hair for the first time the night before her birthday, twisting the hot iron around her dark blonde locks and watching them cascade gently over her shoulders. She was stunning. Absolutely and totally beautiful. 

She’s not just good – she’s clearly very good. The thought that she could one day grow up believing a lie about her beauty made me feel sick to my stomach. I love my niece with my whole heart. I keep telling her how beautiful she is, and right now, at five years old, she believes every word. 

I look at her beauty and choose to believe it for myself, too. God made me not only good, but very good. The more I’ve come to grasp the love Jesus has for me, the more I see me the way He sees me: beautiful.

Here’s what I’m coming to realize: any time we disagree with God, we believe a lie. God formed and fashioned every part of me, and when I haven’t come to an agreement with what He says about me, I believe a lie. 

Come into agreement with God. Come and agree with Him — how He made you is very good indeed. 

I love what it says in Exodus 34 – how when Moses spent time with God, his face became radiant. “When Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the covenant law in his hands, he was not aware that his face was radiant because he had spoken with the Lord.” 

I think we become even more beautiful when we spend time with Jesus. 

Each week, I meet with one of the pastors on staff at my church. We get together early before the work day to pray together. It’s often the highlight of my week: spending time with both her and Jesus. She’s 73 years old and is truly the most beautiful person I know. She is radiant. She spends so much of her time with Jesus, and radiates beauty. She makes every room she enters more beautiful.

You’ve likely heard the adage that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. The One who dreamed of you before you were ever a thought, who formed and fashioned you, who painted the color of your eyes – He beholds you and calls you beautiful. 

God made you and then called you good. But not just good – very good. Come and agree with Him.

 

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I Found Belonging in the Open Arms of This Jesus

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I still remember what it felt like to be on the outside of the Church, looking in.

A friend had invited me to a youth Bible study, and instead of sitting in the circle with the rest of the group who knew they were Christians and said so, I sat outside the circle, in the corner of the room, and listened. No one told me to sit where I did. But beforehand there was such an emphasis on the meeting being for Christians that I wasn’t sure it was for me. I didn’t know if I was a Christian or not at that point. Years before I’d prayed a prayer with my Grandma Margie that I’d meant, but in this group, I only felt aware of what I didn’t know or understand quite yet.

I sat in the corner surrounded by two bookshelves filled with books and games, under an invisible covering of shame. In my mind, there was a hard, impassable line between me and this group I silently observed.

Years later, I would find myself sinking deep into the Gospels and realizing how much I had in common with many of the first followers of Jesus. There was so much they didn’t understand about who Jesus was and the Church He was beginning to build. There was so much they didn’t get about what He said or who they were, or who He was shaping them to be. Jesus invited them along for the ride despite all they didn’t know or understand. He invited them into intimacy knowing they would turn away and betray Him, and that each of them would walk their own journey of becoming.

Jesus’ wide welcome of others would repeatedly shock many. It’s safe to say that if He was here with us in bodily form, His wide welcome would repeatedly shock us as well. He offered no disclaimers, statements, or stances alongside the invitations He offered or received.

I found belonging in the open arms of this Jesus. I found and continue to form my understanding of welcome in His ways.

When a Pharisee invited Jesus to dinner as recorded in the gospel of Luke, He didn’t decline based on what He knew about the man or how they might differ. Jesus went and reclined at the table. And when an uninvited woman showed up at the dinner with an alabaster jar in her arms, knelt behind Jesus and wept, then cleaned the tears off of His feet with her hair, kissed them, and poured perfume on them, Jesus received her offering — despite how uncomfortable his host or friends could’ve been.

When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.”
Luke 7:39 The Message

Can you imagine how tense the room might’ve been? Jesus didn’t assimilate to the comfortable majority in the room, He welcomed the desperate minority. He didn’t tell the woman to go away or try to keep her separate from His hosts. He brought her story into the middle of His own and told a story so that everyone there could learn and grow.

Jesus led by example, showing up wholly and receiving others wholly, in love.

When I think about Jesus’ ways, I’m reminded that I don’t need to keep a checklist of proof for my belonging or the belonging of others. I can eat with those who don’t realize how deep their need is for Jesus, and welcome those who do. I don’t need to make sure my neighbor knows where I stand on this issue or that one before I catch their tears, listen to their story, or dine at their table. And their tears and story should be able to change my limited opinions and the way I think about this issue or that one. I don’t need to explain or qualify my friendships with those who live differently than I do. It’s not my job to chart where someone is in their faith journey.

You and I are made to extend welcome. We belong, and everyone around us does too.

When it comes to the Church, I am no longer on the outside . . . but I never want to forget what it felt like to sit in the corner, separate and ashamed, wondering what I had to know or do or hide to belong. May that feeling always stay with me as a guide to keep growing my own ways of welcoming wider than I thought welcome could ever be.

How has Jesus’ wide welcome changed you?

 

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When God Hangs a Strawberry Moon, What Is He Trying to Tell You?

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I was scheduled to serve on our church’s Connect Team, a group whose goal is to make everyone feel welcome from the moment they pull into our parking lot. It’s a ministry role I relish; having searched for a new church home multiple times, I remember what it feels like when you’re visiting (awkward!). You can tell a lot about a church just by the way you’re greeted.

But that morning my emotions were all knotted up, and I hoped I wouldn’t fall apart with a complete stranger. I’m carrying a lot of heartache and uncertainty in this season, and while I stand on a firm foundation, the surface is awfully wobbly. Sometimes I’m fine, and other times not so much. When people ask something as simple as, “How’re you doing?” my emotions are unpredictable.

Serving that morning turned out to be a gift. I could focus on others rather than think about the circumstances that are making life hard right now. Then the church service started.

I probably should confess I’m in a valley and wandering (again). I suppose, naïvely, I thought since I slogged through an exhausting spiritual desert years ago, I wouldn’t encounter another one. But what I learned back then is surely making a difference now:

God’s faithfulness in spite of my past unbelief gives me confidence in His faithfulness now.

That morning I didn’t bring much of a “heart of worship” but at least I showed up. And God can move in our hearts, even if all we can manage is just showing up.

The service started with a song that perfectly expressed my desperation and need, like God had selected it Himself, just for me. The refrain, an honest prayer –

O God, my God, I need You  //  O God, my God, I need You now  //
How I need You now  //  O Rock, O Rock of ages  //
I’m standing on Your faithfulness

The song draws on the experiences of people we’ve met in Scripture, what God did in their lives, and how He does the same for us now. I don’t know if the lyrics were inspired by Hebrews 13:8, but it’s the verse that came to mind as I listened: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”

This song, Same God by Elevation Worship, has been out for almost a year. Yet that Sunday was the first time I heard it. The way it spoke to me personally and intimately, I don’t believe it was a coincidence; I believe God’s perfect timing is evidence of His goodness and generosity.

God’s gifts are magnificent, aren’t they?

When the sermon started, God continued speaking to me. We’re studying the life of Joseph, and looking at Genesis 37, our pastor reminded us of Joseph’s dream of ruling and how his brothers would bow down to him. He posed the question, “How do you go from being a spoiled brat tattling on your brothers to a ruler?” Genesis 39 sheds light on how, as a slave and then prisoner, Joseph learned to lead others. On the surface, being sold into slavery and later being falsely accused and sent to prison looks like a huge mistake. But God used all of this to transform Joseph over time into the person God called him to be.

And, then – like in a movie – it was as if everyone else in the church faded. The pastor looked straight at me and asked, “What if you saw the terrible circumstances in your life as circumstances God was using to shape you into the person you were meant to be? What if these circumstances, over time, were exactly what you needed – not easy, not without pain – but what you ultimately needed?”

The question lingered as he continued his sermon.

After church, I had plans to join someone I love for an early dinner, and I anticipated some deep and difficult conversations. I had a long drive, so there was plenty of time to pray and ponder the message I had just heard. As I had hoped, our time together was precious and productive, and as expected, at times also painful. It was an evening stitched together with laughter and tears, real and raw and rare. As we hugged goodbye, it started to rain.

Night driving on the interstate in the rain is not my favorite. Neither are cars whizzing by at 90 mph. To help soothe my nerves frayed by circumstances and now driving too fast in dicey weather, I played Same God on repeat. When the rain tapered off about 40 minutes into my drive home, I thanked God and continued my little one-song concert.

It was right about then that I rounded a bend and the rain and trees that had obscured my view disappeared. I literally gasped. Hanging low in the sky and almost touching the road was the most beautiful full moon I’ve ever seen, big and bright . . . and orange?? It was a special kind of supermoon, a Strawberry Moon, which appears almost a third larger and 17% brighter than usual.

I dang near had a wreck, it was so beautiful.

I was overwhelmed and astounded. God continues to give me incredible signs (a song) and wonders (bonjour, Strawberry Moon!) despite my unbelief. God knows that when I’m praying, “I need You now,” I’m really saying, “I need to know You are real and present and actually working all things together for good.”

God can turn night into day, mourning into dancing, and a moon we’ve stopped noticing into evidence of His love and a reflection of His glory. In looking at Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, it’s clear that God will stop at nothing – nothing! – to demonstrate His love for each of us.

He used a strawberry moon to remind me of His love. How is God getting your attention to tell you how much He loves you?

 

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The Lord at Work

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For over a decade, I was in full-time ministry. If you count seminary years and Bible college, it’s been part of my work since 2008. But back in February, I stepped away from a job, and when it came time to figure out what was next, an unexpected opportunity arose: working for a home renovation and construction company.

When I was a kid, a family friend was a contractor. He’d take me to jobs and I would paint boards for a little bit of spending money. I loved the smell of sawdust and seeing rotted wood get removed and replaced. Little did I know, one day I’d have an office down the hall from a full-on workshop.

I’m still in culture shock when I walk into the office. No one starts meetings with prayers or reminds you of the importance of Eternity. But what I lost in Christian-ese, I’ve gained in connection to a group of people I might not otherwise have encountered.

These colleagues are skilled craftsmen and planners, architects and job managers. They know how to create almost anything from scratch, and they work with excellence and drive. As I was getting acclimated, after posting something faith-based on my personal Instagram, a comment caught my eye. It was someone lamenting that I’m not in ministry. That my gifts which are theologically bent don’t seem to fit with my current full-time vocation.

In the world we live in, this is a common assumption. We see pastors or administrators or caretakers as those in ‘full-time ministry.’ Those jobs are so needed! My brother-in-law is a faithful pastor of a church in California and his work is challenging yet rich. I have a deep respect for individuals in those spaces. And who knows? Maybe I’ll end up back there again one day. But for now, I find myself driving down a road that is dense with potholes and workshops on my way to the office. I find myself passing by warehouses and industrial spaces, re-learning a new way of existing in the world.

“Hello!” I called out the other morning to a man standing on a loading dock.

He greeted me with a smile.

“What do you guys do here?” I asked

“Anything made out of metal? We make it.” He replied, with sparks flying behind him and machinery resounding in the background.

We exchanged names and as I walked away, my foot caught the ground and I accidentally kicked an empty bottle of liquor that was sitting on the side of the street between our workplaces. Immediately, a phrase popped into my head: This is ministry, too.

It turns out, my work is full of people who are living, breathing examples of the human experience. They’re removing rotted clapboards and sawing wood and building staircases and processing the world around them. They’re having lunch breaks and driving to job sites and trying to be good parents and spouses and friends. Away from church pews, the need for Jesus is just as strong.

Scripture reminds us to do everything to the glory of God. It doesn’t make mention of needing to be in a church office or standing at a pulpit. Christ can be magnified in the parking lot or the drive-through or the office complex.

In 1 Corinthians 10:31, it says, “Whatever you do—whether you eat or drink or not—do it all to the glory of God!”

So I come home and I exhale and I change out of my men’s polo with the logo of my company. I sit and I process and I pray that I can meet these new friends and coworkers with grace, kindness, and patience. I ask Jesus to be made known and to be glorified as we post on social media, frame and paint walls. Even if it’s just someone sensing that they’re not alone, there are a thousand small ways to point anyone toward the truth of Jesus.

Still, I miss those opening prayers and staff devotionals and feeling like my work was intimately connected to my faith. But then? I remember that I work at a home renovation company — and Jesus was a carpenter. So surely, if it’s good enough for the Son of God, it’s more than enough for me.

 

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Live Like You’ve Been with Him

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I have a love-hate relationship with exercise. Do you know what I mean? Last year, I decided to go all in and get a trainer so that I had some accountability. I love my trainer; he challenges me and pushes me to keep going when I want to stop. It’s great, but it is annoying at the same time. At the beginning of each session, with a big smile and in the most excited voice you can imagine, he asks how I felt after my last session. My answer is always the same, “Sore!” I used to think this response would garner me some mercy and he would keep the exercises light, but his response is always the same, too, “That’s great! We want to live sore!”

As much as I dislike sweating it out, I’m learning to actually enjoy the feeling of soreness because I know it means I accomplished something. It means I kept the promise I made to myself to steward my health. I moved my body and I’m building muscle. The soreness is not there all the time, but when I squat to pick up something my son dropped on the ground or get the gallon of milk from the fridge, my body immediately reminds me that I spent time at the gym and that I committed to go to the gym again the next day. I think that’s what my trainer meant when he said, “We have to live sore!” Because when I’m not living sore, it means I was inactive and didn’t put in enough work to challenge my body or develop muscle.

The importance of exercise is common knowledge. I’ve known all about the benefits long before I started training. In fact, I have a doctoral degree in physical therapy and use exercise as my primary medium to help people heal and prevent injury. I literally work in a gym and prescribe different exercises all day long. I use that knowledge to help everyone, yet . . .  my knowledge remains useless to me if I don’t choose to use it and live sore.

The importance of knowledge in action is also emphasized in the Bible. 

Jesus came to a group of people called the Pharisees who had memorized Scripture. They were experts in the law who could quote it all day long but didn’t quite live it out themselves. That is why Jesus’ call to discipleship wasn’t simply, “Believe me” or “Know me”; instead it was “Follow me.” This was the missing piece in the Pharisees’ faith. So Jesus, the Word made flesh, came to show people how to live out the Word.

I think as Christians, we are often so familiar with knowing the way of Jesus that we can go through the motions and quote the verses, but our lives don’t always reflect that we have been with Jesus.

Here are questions to ask yourself:

Are you convicted when you gossip with your friend or get angry at a loved one?
Are you complaining about your kids or actually praying for and discipling them?
Are you confident in your identity, and not striving to fit in to earn significance?
Are you compelled to share the gospel with your neighbor?
Are you compassionate to the needy in your city?

We go to church. We do our quiet time. But often we are not changed. There isn’t any evidence that our lives are different from doing those things.

Christianity isn’t just about what you believe. It’s also about what you do with what you believe. If we have been transformed by the grace of God, then something about our lives will look different.

Moses met with God on Mount Sinai and when he came back down to the people, his face shone so bright, they couldn’t look at Him (Exodus 34:29-30). Being in the presence of God transformed how Moses looked.

After Jesus’ ascension, people marveled at the disciples because of their message. “When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus” (Acts 4:13).

I want the world to look at me and see that I am different. The world desperately needs people who are living counter-culturally, people who are in the world, but not of it. When we live this way, we feel the discomfort of extending grace and forgiveness when someone hurts us, the tenderness of our hearts breaking at a stranger’s loss, and the pulling of our affection away from the things of the world.

Lord, make us a people who don’t just know You, but who want to be with You . . . and let our lives show it!

 

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

 

You’re Not Alone in Your Invisible Suffering

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My breathing got faster . . . shallower. My heart raced and so did my thoughts. Not wanting to wake my parents, I grabbed my heavy green blanket and stole out to the hallway. Not the regular hallway. The one by the front door that no one else used.

I leaned against the wall, my bare feet flat on the cold floor, my knees scrunched up into me. I pulled the blanket tighter, fighting the all-too-familiar panic attack — alone. I didn’t want to wake anyone up. I couldn’t text friends because they were asleep. Often in my life, the battles fought at night have been the loneliest.

But then footsteps sounded. My mom’s slippers hitting the hard wood. I stayed silent. She walked by, but didn’t look down the hallway. I debated. I could call out, but then she’d be burdened by my struggles. She’d miss out on sleep.

The footsteps sounded again and her phone’s flashlight bobbed down the hallway, back into her room. Now I felt even more alone, hopeless for support and help. Maybe you’re feeling invisible right now, too. It might not be a panic attack in the dead of night. Maybe you’re a caregiver, sacrificing your needs and dreams for someone you love. Or perhaps you’re a mom, striving to juggle everything and everyone, doing work that no one sees.

Maybe you’re a college student or missionary, facing the loneliness of living far away from family — watching birthdays and adventures happen on Facebook  . . . without you. Maybe you’re a bridesmaid watching your best friend covenant herself to a new best friend, while you don’t even have a date. Perhaps you’re on the other side of that happy occasion, signing papers you never thought you’d sign, alone in a bed you used to share. Or maybe you’re smiling and hiding your way through waves of an aching, clawing grief . . . invisible to the people you know and every passerby.

I remember one morning, standing in front of the bathroom mirror. I looked into my own eyes in shock. My face looked . . . normal. My smile didn’t seem fake. Yet my mind and body were screaming out in pain from the chronic illness ravaging my body. How on earth did I look so put together?

Invisible suffering hurts because God did not design us to be invisible. He designed us to be seen. And in the seeing, loved. That is in the very fiber of our being. The fact that we all feel this core desire so acutely points to the reality of our design. Even in Scripture, we see this yearning.

In Psalm 142, David cries out, “Look and see, there is no one at my right hand; no one is concerned for me. I have no refuge; no one cares for my life.” Feeling invisible, David begs God to see him. Does your heart cry out just like David’s?

That night in the hallway, I didn’t speak up for my mom to hear me. But I did start whispering to my God. I tried to ask Him to come close to me. I tried to ask Him to be with me. But mostly all I could manage was, “Jesus, help.” Because when no one else sees, God does. Though everyone was asleep, this remained true for me: “He will not let your foot slip — he who watches over you will not slumber” (Psalm 121:3).

Friend, He sees you. He sees the behind-the-scenes work you do. He sees the pain you hide. He sees the burdens you bear without complaint. He sees. And there are sisters who see, too.

God gave me such a sister. One day, while staying at a friend’s house, another panic attack hit. No one noticed my unobstrusive disappearance. In a tucked away corner I tried all the tools my counselor had given me to calm myself down. But Esther noticed — and Esther came looking for me. She walked into the bedroom. I heard her pause as she looked around. I thought she was going to turn around. But then she stepped further in. She saw me. She didn’t say anything. But she slid down the wall and sat next to me. She was there. And I was not alone.

Like God, she not only saw me, she saw me and entered in — when I let her.

You are not alone in your invisible suffering. I know that truth is so hard to hold onto sometimes. But today I’m wondering if you’ll do something with me. Will you take a deep breath, choose to believe this truth, and be brave with me? Will you vulnerably pray, “Jesus, help.” Or text your sister in Christ, “I need a listening ear.”

I know it’s not easy. Before Esther, there were so many unseen, desperate days. Even when I prayed “Jesus, help” it didn’t magically mean I felt seen. But eventually, God met me in the quiet, and my sisters started to sit with me.

It might take time. But they are there and they want to be with you. And when there is no one, there is God. He is present in our invisible suffering. So let’s keep hoping and keep believing in the truth. Together.

3 Things to Do When You’re Disappointed

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We always pray for you, and we give thanks to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. For we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and your love for all of God’s people, which come from your confident hope of what God has reserved for you in heaven. You have had this expectation ever since you first heard the truth of the Good News.

This same Good News that came to you is going out all over the world. It is bearing fruit everywhere by changing lives, just as it changed your lives from the day you first heard and understood the truth about God’s wonderful grace.
Colossians 1:3-6

There are so many things in life that let us down. Friendships can fracture. Finances can falter. A spouse can fail you, a dream can crumble, a job can get taken away. When we trust in our health, our government, and even our church, we will eventually face disappointment.

But there is one thing, One Person, we can place our confident hope in and never be disappointed: Jesus and His gospel.

Being in a relationship with Jesus changes everything! Whether you’ve been a Christian for decades or you’re just beginning to explore your faith, God’s wonderful grace in active and available for you today.

If you’re weighed down by disappointment or unmet expectations, here are 3 things you can do:

  1. Be honest with God. Talk to God about your pain and disappointment. He can handle your brutal honesty, which is the foundation for growth and intimacy.
  2. Think about heaven. It’s so easy to get bogged down with today’s problems that we can forget our future’s promises. Even as struggles persist, we can be confident that our future is secure in Jesus.
  3. Tell God what you need. When you are intentional about sharing your specific needs with God, you will be more aware of the ways He is moving and providing!

Remember this: God delights in meeting His kids’ needs. If Jesus loved you so much that He offered His very life for you, then there is no limit to the impact of His Good News and wonderful grace.

 

A Beautiful Inheritance

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Lord, you are my portion
and my cup of blessing;
you hold my future.
The boundary lines have fallen for me
in pleasant places;
indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.
Psalm 16:5-6 CSB

I’m not proud of a lot in my past, but you know what? My past is what makes me who I am because it defines the boundaries of my life. The enemy tries to use my past to derail my future because he’s absolutely terrified I’ll be unstoppable if I get this right. He’ll use yours against you too. The enemy will want you so focused on yourself and your pain that you can’t begin to be there for someone else. So even though I’m not proud of everything I’ve ever done, I’m incredibly grateful for my life and my inheritance.

Our one job is to possess our land, to own our inheritance, to accept it. Every single, messy inch of it. This means we have to stop hiding from our past. It’s hard to face the past. We all have things we desperately wish weren’t there. But when we surrender our lives to God, He’ll redeem our past for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).

I cringe when I recall the life I lived in the decades before I accepted Jesus as my Savior. But I know those days shaped me into the woman I am today. I can easily connect with a woman dealing with infertility because I dealt with it too. It was a hard, hard season in my life, but God got me through, and if I can help even one woman get through it, then the pain and the tears were worth it!

There is nothing on earth you’ve gone through that He doesn’t understand. He knows all about your past and He knows about your future too — the good, the bad, the ugly. Every single bit of your land and life has a purpose. And you can trust Him with all of it.

This excerpt is by Kate Battestelli, 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!

On Divine Timing, New Friendships, and Learning Something New

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I do love God’s timing. I do love a new friend. And I do love learning something new. This is one such story in which the Lord recently showed me just how good He is and how much He loves me through all of these ways.

In September of last year, I met a woman named Angela. She is a Bible teacher, a writer, and for all intents and purposes, a genius. Honestly, I haven’t ever met many people with the unique kind of intelligence and revelation that she possesses. We met at a conference at a nearby church. It was one of those events where everyone was hungry for God and for His glory to fall. And fall it did, and then some. There was lingering worship and a weighty biblical message. It was also the kind of event that lasted into the morning.

Angela and I met and connected late that night. It was one of the best conversations I’ve ever had. I wanted to chat more, but it was around 1 a.m., so, we did the next best thing and exchanged numbers. Then, you know what I did next? Nothing. I completely forgot to reach out to her to get together and so did she. Eight months went by before we would see each other again.

A few weeks ago, I was at a ladies night event, and Angela spoke. The whole time she was speaking I kept thinking she looked and sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place her. At the end of the night, I approached her to ask about her inner healing ministry. As we talked, eventually we figured out how we had met before as I had looked familiar to her as well.

Then, it happened. I asked her to pray over me before I left.

Proverbs 15:23 came alive in me. “A person takes joy in giving an answer; and a timely word — how good that is!”

At this time, I was still reeling from two experiences of being uninvited, feeling that deep pain, and trying to heal. When Angela prayed over me, the love of God began to pour out. As His love poured out, the tears began to flow. It was as if a floodgate had opened. She shared a prophetic word that spoke into my exact situation and hurt. I felt seen and welcomed by the Father.

It was the sweetest time I had had with the Lord in a while.

The next weekend, Angela was teaching at a church. I knew that I needed to be there. I had this sense of expectancy that the Lord wanted to do something. With each message that she shared, God brought so much revelation and illumination. I told her that she broke my brain in all of the best ways. It was that, but it was so much more. Much of what God showed me was a completely new revelation. The rest was Him breathing fresh breath on old truths. Afterward, I asked her to pray for some physical healing in my body.

Again, the Lord showed up as Angela prayed. More tears. More healing. More of His love poured out. I walked away with such joy and freedom and hope.

It was a timely word indeed. The Lord reminded me that He is good in all ways, at all times. He takes everything meant for evil and turns it around for our good.

When I can’t see His hand at work, I can still trust that He is moving. I can trust that His timing is perfect.

In 1 Thessalonians 5, Paul writes to the church to remind them that the Lord is coming again. He lays out how they should be loving and living as that day approaches. In verse 11, he encourages them to continue to build each other up, just as they were in fact doing.

These past few weeks, in His divine timing, God placed Angela back in my life to be a part of encouraging me and building me up. I’m learning to trust God in new and deeper ways. I believe this wasn’t just for me. It’s for you as well, the Church, His daughters.

The love and care of God is real and is for you. He cares about the smallest concerns in our lives, like finding a close parking space, to the biggest concerns of an illness. He cares just as much about that broken heart that falls somewhere in between.

Sometimes, I forget. I forget about God’s goodness and grace for me amid life being life. Perhaps you find yourself in the middle of that season. Well, this is your reminder that the Lord sees you. He hears you. He loves you. He wants to show up in your life with a beautiful and lasting work of His Spirit.

If you have a testimony of God’s faithfulness, I’d love to hear it! But, if you find yourself in a hard season, needing a reminder of God’s divine timing and love for you, I’d love to pray for you!

 

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6 Key Practices for Life-Giving Conversations

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The moment the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back and swallow them. I hadn’t said anything profane or improper. Still, I felt my stomach twist with regret, the surest sign that the conversation would’ve been better served if I’d left a few of my words unsaid.

Moments before, a close friend called to vent about a difficult situation she was navigating. Having been friends for some time, I was familiar with the situation and had some equally strong opinions about it. So when she shared the most recent update, it didn’t take me any time to blurt out my opinionated commentary.

I’ll spare you the recreation of my less-than-gracious words. Suffice it to say, what I lacked in restraint I made up for with criticism and complaint. The result? Regret.

I’ve often struggled to find the line between processing real-life hurts with trusted friends and oversharing with unnecessary criticism. Am I the only one? As a Jesus-follower, I find it difficult to know when, where, how, and what to share about the more complicated situations involving people and relationships.

Where is the line between honest dialogue and gossip? Is it possible to simply vent about a difficult situation without oversharing or being unkind? How do I communicate with honesty, empathy, and grace?

The longer I live, the more I think these questions have answers that are more gray than black-and-white. Relationships and the conversations we share within them are nuanced, and they require wisdom and discernment. At times, we need to create safe spaces with trusted relationships to talk through the complexities of life and interactions. At other times, we need to process in private, sharing our biggest hurts and frustrations with God alone. More often than not, it’s a combination of both of these.

When in doubt, I often consider Solomon’s words in Proverbs 17:

The one who has knowledge uses words with restraint,
and whoever has understanding is even-tempered.

Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent,
and discerning if they hold their tongues.
Proverbs 17:27-28

When it comes to our conversations, Solomon advises us to practice skills like restraint, moderation, and even silence at times. In other words, less is more. And for this woman who is a “more” kind of woman, Solomon’s counsel hits its mark.

Although it’s taken me years, I am slowly learning temperance in my speech. I still overspeak, far too often. But I’m also seeing the wisdom in restraint, of pressing pause on my commentary and allowing some things to be left unsaid outside the confines of my intimacy with God Himself. In short, here are 6 key practices for all of us who want less regret in our relationships and, instead, more life-giving conversations:

6 Key Practices for Life-Giving Conversations

  1. Pause and pray. You don’t need to make it long and drawn out or complicated. Your prayer might be as simple as the words of Psalm 19:14: “May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.”
  2. Add journaling and/or solitude to your daily practice. If you’re an external processor, you might want to add journaling to your daily practices. I find journaling my angst keeps it from spilling over on the people around me and the conversations we share. Let’s be clear: I have a lot of words. My relationships would likely be better served by allowing some of those words to land on paper rather than in their ears. For those of you who are internal processors, make sure you block chunks of solitude to give your brain time to process before you speak. Like journaling, it allows you to find clarity before you engage in a loaded conversation.
  3. Learn the art of question-asking. For many of us, offering our point of view requires little effort. However, inquiring about another’s experience is often overlooked in our haste to speak. Wisdom involves learning the art of asking thoughtful questions. If in doubt, start with things like, “Tell me more” or “Help me understand your perspective. It matters to me.”
  4. Listen with openness. Openness requires humility. Although you may feel confident that you are right, openness allows for the possibility that you might be wrong or your perspective incomplete. To listen, we must put our rebuttals and responses to the side to fully engage with what the other person is saying. Did I mention it this requires humility?
  5. Utilize empathy and validation. Again, this is where restraint comes into play. To communicate true empathy and validate another’s experience, we must restrain the urge to blurt out our point of view. Instead, we enter into the other person’s experience, allow ourselves to feel what they feel, and then communicate understanding.
  6. Take responsibility and apologize. Why is this a key to life-giving conversations? Because we’re going to get it wrong sometimes. As long as we’re on this side of heaven, perfection isn’t possible. Learn how to recognize when you’ve said too much or said the wrong thing. Go back, own it, and apologize. Then, move on. Sometimes our mistakes are the best opportunities for developing stronger skills.

Being a positive part of life-giving conversations takes intentionality and practice. If the sting of regret over something you said still plagues you, give number 6 a try. Then move on and seek to do better. Ask God for wisdom. Receive His grace upon grace.

 

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When You Feel Lonely, Remember This

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One of the deepest forms of loneliness creeps in when you least expect it: when others surround you.

Have you ever experienced this ache in your spirit?

Maybe you’ve been at a party, swirls of laughter and conversation mingling around you, but you felt a bit outside the fray. Or perhaps you attended a reunion with friends or family, but left feeling like those closest to you didn’t understand you as much as you’d hoped.

Loneliness is an ache to be seen, understood, and loved.

And when loneliness wraps its tendrils around you, it’s suffocating.

Recent studies show that one in two Americans report struggling with loneliness, to the point that the U.S. Surgeon General called loneliness an “epidemic.”

I’m in a season of caring for young kids, and while I rarely have a moment alone, I’ve experienced deep loneliness. (I don’t recommend scrolling social media when you feel lonely – the false connections only exacerbate the lies. And oh, how loneliness lies to us.)

Maybe you’ve heard these lies, too:

  • Nobody else feels this way.
  • I’m worth ignoring.
  • Nobody really cares or understands me.
  • If I were more ____, I wouldn’t feel so lonely.

When I feel the weight of feeling forgotten, of wondering if my place in this world matters to others, it’s easy to experience a cascade of lies.

I begin to believe I’m the only one carrying the weight of loneliness. I’m the only one on the outside looking in. This snowballs into other struggles: inadequacy, insecurity, and insignificance.

The biggest lie loneliness tells is that you’re the only one. But everyone – and I mean everyone – has felt lonely: The sister with the picture-perfect Facebook is going through a divorce and feels like the only one with no one to come home to. The highly-successful coworker is drinking too much and wonders if she is the only one who feels so lonely. The pastor is holding deep doubts and feels like a fraud.

Loneliness is often unseen. And it festers in the darkness.

I’ll be honest: I’ve struggled to name my loneliness because it leaves me vulnerable.

What if I tell someone that at a place I was supposed to feel happy, I felt lonely instead? Will they judge me? Will they say it’s my fault for feeling lonely while surrounded by other people? Will they say other people have it worse? Or that maybe I feel lonely because deep down, something is wrong with me?

I wish I had an antidote to the loneliness epidemic. Unfortunately, I’m no spiritual pharmacist. I have no magic potions to fix our souls.

But I do know that I can quiet the lies that swarm my spirit with two things: honesty and hope.

First, I have to be honest. I have to be vulnerable with myself, God, and maybe another person. I have to name the loneliness: When I was at dinner with those friends, I felt lonely. I felt like I didn’t belong.

Loneliness does not last forever. When you name your loneliness, it begins to lose power. Does this mean your loneliness is instantly cured? No. But you can call it for what it is and move through it with hope.

We combat the lies of loneliness with hard-won honesty and stubborn hope.

So, name your loneliness. And then remind yourself that the lies of loneliness don’t get the final say:

“I’m lonely, but…”

  • …this feeling won’t last forever.
  • …everyone feels lonely sometimes.
  • …even when I don’t feel like it, I matter.
  • …my Father in Heaven isn’t ambivalent about my existence.
  • …Jesus understands feeling misunderstood.
  • …the Spirit of God is with me.
  • …I’m surrounded by love, and I’m called beloved.

When we remember that feeling lonely is normal – but we don’t have to succumb to the lies of loneliness – we can begin to see through the fog.  

Loneliness is linked to our sense of belonging. But the truth is that we belong to God. And despite all our messiness and imperfection, we find our belonging in each other, too.

When I’m lonely, I don’t always know what to pray. But I don’t have to have the words, nor do you. We can borrow this short prayer from Psalm 25:16:

“Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.”

When loneliness lies to you, remember that God is with you, that feeling lonely is normal, and that this season won’t last forever. May your experiences in loneliness grow empathy and compassion in you. And may we remember that even though life is infinitely complicated, we are better together.

(If you get the inkling that you’re feeling more than loneliness and experiencing deeper depression or feelings of worthlessness, talk to your doctor or a licensed counselor. You don’t have to power through this alone.)

 

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God Knows Where I’m Headed Even If I Don’t

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I remember waking up and feeling this overwhelming heaviness.

“Happy Birthday! You’re thirty!” my husband smiled and shouted, excited for the day that lay ahead of us.

I walked out to the kitchen, made a cup of coffee, and looked out to see the boats crossing into the marina. I was at my favorite place with my favorite people, and life was far more generous than I deserved. Yet, I couldn’t shake this feeling I had.

I grabbed my headphones, turned on my worship playlist, and started on my favorite walking trail. As I walked past the bluest hydrangeas and worship played in my ears, I could feel my spirit settle down. As I started to unpack all the thoughts in my head, I realized that I had created quite lofty expectations for myself upon reaching thirty years old. With previous birthdays, the expectations were less clear. But thirty? It felt different and monumental. The snowball had already started in my head and was gaining traction quickly.

“Should I have a kid by now?” (So many of my friends do.)
“If I would have committed to _____ sooner, I would be way farther along.”
“I wonder if I had done _____, would _____ be different?”
“Did I miss anything along the way?”

I was asking God all these questions, fully aware I was not giving Him space to speak nor myself the capacity to hear Him if He did.

Now, calm down. I know when hearing a thirty-year-old whine about their age, we all want to do a quick eye roll and move on, but hang with me here for a moment.

My overwhelmed and discouraged spirit had nothing to do with my age and everything to do with the picture I was painting in my mind. This new decade felt significant, and all of a sudden, I wondered, “Lord, do I measure up?”

Have you ever allowed your perspective to be distorted by the pace of those around you? Assumed a story to be true based on the expectations you didn’t realize you had until you were disappointed?

As Jesus’ firm and gentle hands held my heart, He reminded me, “Cleere, dear one, trust that I can get you wherever I want you to go. You aren’t behind. We aren’t behind. I am right on time.”

Unwavering peace started to flood my soul as my worry dispersed like the waves I passed along the shoreline.

The temporary dissatisfaction I was experiencing was because my eyes were on everyone else around me, instead of on the One who made me. He’s the only One who knows my soul, my purpose, and the unique path I follow with Him.

Looking back, it is so easy to see how the enemy wanted me to stay inside my own head, throw a pity party, and live in that discouragement instead of focusing on what was right in front of me! He used the false story I wrote in my head to weave a web of insecurity, uncertainty, and discouragement. He knew that if I stayed on that track, he could kick back, put his feet up, and I would do all the work for him.

But Jesus. He reminded me through His Word that the enemy was not going to have my mindset or my day. My joy was not up for grabs. 

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”
John 10:10

Jesus did not sacrifice, serve, and sanctify me so I can just “get by.” He wants me to have a full life, and He has already determined my inheritance. It is sure, good, and perfect, and gratitude and praise should encompass my life.

“Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
you make my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.”
Psalm 16:5-6

So whether we’re thirty, forty, or eighty, whether we have seven children or are struggling to have any, whether we’re in the midst of suffering or feeling like we’re on top of a mountain, whether we’ve achieved all we’d hoped for or feel immensely behind, God sees us. He is big enough to get us where He wants us to go no matter how long it takes us to get there. His specialty is “all of a sudden.” His nature is being a miracle worker. His grace is sufficient, and His strength sustains us all the way there.

Devotion by Cleere Cherry Reaves

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Imagine if a word like joy or worship or release flowed through your life for seven days straight. What if you quit worrying about where you fall short and aspired instead to one simple truth per week for seven straight days?

The Focus Journal: 52 Weeks to a More Intentional Life by Cleere Cherry Reaves gives you the opportunity to focus on one important word each week. Why one word? Because trying to focus on too many things at once, even spiritual things, can cause increased anxiety in our lives. Attempting to live out every spiritual principle and practice we’ve learned can frequently feel overwhelming. To help solve this problem, Cleere offers a short devotion, a prayer prompt, and space to reflect on your experiences with each word. The Focus Journal will help you release stress and overcome perfectionism anxiety so you can experience genuine, ongoing, spiritual transformation

Pick up your copy of The Focus Journal today, and leave a comment below to enter to WIN one of five copies*!

 

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Giveaway is open until 6/23/23 at 11:59 pm central to US addresses only.

When You Can’t Catch Their Every Tear

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We welcome him into our bed, our little guy. Except he isn’t so little anymore. He’s five years old and tall with lengthy limbs. Into the bed he comes, carrying his favorite books and stuffed animals until we are all squished — Mom, Dad, and our not-so-little boy.

He sleeps with us when he can’t sleep, or when we need to separate him from our two-year-old toddler who takes forever and a day to fall asleep . . . and stay asleep.

We put on the diffuser, dim the lights, and play his favorite soothing music. We accommodate him to the best of our ability, making space for this not-so-little son of ours.

One night, while the three of us were all scrunched asleep in our full-size bed, the soothing music that was streaming from our iPad stopped playing. The sound abruptly transitioned to a playlist with upbeat music. I awoke, stepped out of bed, and turned off the iPad. But, in no less than fifteen seconds, I heard rustling from our bed and a quiet voice that followed.

“Why’d you turn the iPad off?” asked my son.

“The music stopped playing,” I said. “It’s okay, just close your eyes and go back to sleep,” I reassured him.

Then he mumbled something, a whining sound that pulled and twisted my ears. Too tired in the wee hours of the morning to decipher what he was saying, I rolled into bed and told him again to go back to sleep . . . again. But then came the tears — a silent sniffling, a whimpering that he tried to conceal as he cried while burrowed in the blankets.

Every fiber of my being wanted to swoop in and save him, wipe away the tears, and stop them from coming. But the truth is . . . I wanted to cry too, right there, squished in that bed and sandwiched between all my own emotions.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” I asked him, checking my phone to see just how early this “wee in the morning” was. (It was 4:15.)

He paused for a few seconds, then calmly whispered, “I just don’t like being squished in small spaces.” Small spaces, meaning our full-size bed was not big enough for the three of us. It’s his most common complaint when he spends the night in our bed. There are too many people. There’s not enough space. I need more room. You need a bigger bed, he says.

As he cried, I realized — I wanted to cry, too. Because he was right — our full-size bed isn’t all that big . . . but it is all we can afford. Our full-size bed, along with our rented, pinched-for-space townhome with no backyard, is the best we have to give right now. It’s all we have to give.

And did he know, as I held back tears of my own, right then and there at 4:15 AM, that I’ll never be able to give him all he wants and needs? Because I am only human and there will always be some gaping need, longing, or lack that I cannot fix or fulfill.

I didn’t cry at that moment, but I did tell him that if he needed more space, he could go to his room and spread out in his own bed. So, off he went — closing the door behind him. As I lay there, I thought about how I’d been in this place before — hearing or seeing or even just fearing the fall of someone else’s tears while knowing there was nothing I could do to fix the world for them, or change their situation, or save the day, or give them something better.

It’s the place of not being able to catch someone else’s every tear, not being able to meet their every need or fulfill their every dream or desire. And, there comes a time when we step out of the shimmering illusion, the lie that we can be everything all at once and that we can save everyone. There comes a time when, sandwiched between the end of ourselves and the need of someone else, we realize — we’re not meant or made to shoulder it all, to sustain it all.

There is no interior well, wide or deep enough, from which we can live out all our good intentions or our fiercest love. There is only One who can deeply and fully meet and shepherd our loved ones in and through their every longing, loneliness, and loss.

When I realize I can’t meet the wants, wishes, and needs of others, I learn to instead, release them to the only One who can. This looks less like bending myself into impossible shapes to save the day and more like praying for the people and places I care for.

This looks less like making promises and looks more like embracing (and even explaining to others) my reality, limitations, and how disappointments and desires sometimes persist on this side of heaven.

This looks less like stiffening up at the cascade of toddler tears or disgruntled complaints from my not-so-little boy, and more like teaching him how I have entrusted him into the spacious and gracious hands of the only One who can hold all things, all people.

God is the only one who can — deeply and fully — catch and care for our every wish, dream, want, need, joy, heartbreak, fear, and tear. May we come to Him and cry on Him — for every little and not-so-little thing.

 

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