A Call for the Weary and Worried

A Call for the Weary and Worried

by

The weariness wove its tendrils through me, dragging me down without asking permission.  

It had been weeks of radiation, surgery, and chemo. My new ostomy bag gurgled and churned, interrupting the awkward silence, and there I lay on the PET scan table, valiantly losing a staring contest with the dirty white ceiling tiles above me — my hospital gown scratching as it tried to reveal more of me than was decent.  

Would the radiologist find constellations of tumors lighting up my lungs like the ones my mum and sister had battled? Had the family heat-seeking missile of death locked in on me? 

Let’s just say I wasn’t my happiest, skippiest self that day. I was weary, worried, and quite honestly, over it. 

Earlier, as I sipped my morning tea, I’d laughed as I read Isaiah 42:10: “Sing to God a new song, his praise from the ends of the earth!”

Yeah right, I thought. Like that’s going to happen today. 

Have you ever laughed at Scripture? Not because it’s funny but because the chances of you putting it into action are as likely as a teenage boy spontaneously showering. 

Isaiah 42:10 is a call to sing a new song; to raise our voices, rejoice, sing for joy, shout from the mountain tops, and proclaim His praise from this little green spinning planet. But when life’s gone belly up and we’re struggling to get through the day, it’s not quite so simple or easy. 

Many of us find ourselves feeling more weary and worried than overflowing with worship and wonder. Financial worries, grief, loss, parenting struggles, or a fragile marriage, among many other unnamed cares, can weigh us down and leave us crippled. 

It’s tempting to think Isaiah 42:10 is a text for when life is all rainbows and butterflies, not stress and struggle. But it’s exactly moments like this — when life is hard, we’re tired and want things to change — that this text is for. It’s a rally cry for times of darkness, suffering, weariness, waiting, apathy, and doubt. 

It’s a call that doesn’t stop because it’s been a tough year and we can’t think of anything to give thanks and praise for. It’s a call that doesn’t stop because we’ve been diagnosed, lost a loved one, or discovered our teen is cutting. 

No matter how weary or worried you are, I want to encourage you to read Isaiah 42:1-17 where we find this call from the Lord spoken through the prophet to the people of Israel. 

Because here’s the thing… 

When Isaiah spoke these words to the people of Israel, they hadn’t just won a big victory. They hadn’t seen a huge God-miracle play out before them or enjoyed years of plenty and security. Nope, quite the opposite. They were a broken and enslaved people. The golden age of Hezekiah, with its economic and religious stability, was over. Israel was again in captivity to the Babylonians and the people were bone-weary, worn out, and worried beyond belief. 

Sound familiar? 

Yet in the middle of these tough times, God calls them to sing a new song — to burst forth in joy, hope, and peace in the darkness. 

Notice, He doesn’t say, “When life’s good again you’ll be able to sing a new song to me.” Instead, He calls them (and us) to sing a new song right where we are, right now. 

Even in a hospital gown on the PET scan table. 

So that’s what I did. Kind of.  

I quietly hummed “It’s your breath in my lungs and I pour out my praise to you only.” And as I did, my hum became a mumble which rose to a soft song of praise that echoed out from the depths of the scanner.  

To worship through my weariness and worry was an act of defiance against my cancer, and the worry-filled exhaustion seeping through my core. 

It said, “God, You are good, even when life isn’t. I trust You even when I can’t see what’s ahead, and You love me despite my feeling alone.” 

I want to encourage you today, no matter what you’re facing or how tired and anxious you are, that the call Isaiah gave the Israelites is ours today. As we sing a new song, we exchange our weariness and worry  for wonder and worship. We find God in our darkest places. 

Will you sing a new song with me today?

I’ll be the one with the bags under her eyes, belting “It’s Your breath in my lungs,” slightly off-key.

 

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

Let Love Be the Through Line

by

In the corner of my hairline, right at my part, little white hairs sprout like dandelion weeds after a rainstorm. They’re a reminder that I’m not as young as I used to be and how the last few years have taken a toll on my body. I let them be for now, mostly because I have no desire or energy to do otherwise and perhaps because I’m curious about the process of aging – particularly of being middle-aged.

I am now the age of many of the deacons and deaconesses of the church I grew up in. They were my friends’ parents, the leaders in the church, the faithful ones who showed up and served the children’s and youth ministry in any way they could. From my teenage and early 20s vantage point, they seemed old and wise, as if they instinctively knew how to do it all – how to be an adult, how to make the best decisions, how to lead well, how to raise kids. I knew they weren’t perfect, but they at least seemed confident in how they carried themselves.

But from where I sit today, I wonder if they were neither old nor confident. Maybe they were just trying to make it through another day of navigating English as a second language. As immigrants, they had left whole lives, families, and communities to start fresh in a new country, and perhaps they were simply figuring their lives out one crisis at a time. Maybe what I perceived as “old” was simply exhaustion on their faces or the symptoms of trauma in their bodies. And maybe what I saw as “confidence” was a facade to cover their doubts and shame and insecurities, so as not to crumble in public or in front of their children. They were neither young nor old; they were just middle-aged and trying their best.

Despite their imperfections and mistakes and even the trauma they passed on, one line of hope I can pull out and read clearly is how they really tried to love well. It was often through food – in the assortment of banchan (Korean side dishes) in the fridge or the consistently delicious bowl of soup and rice after church service every Sunday. It was asking us if we’d eaten anytime they saw us and offering us whatever piece of candy or cracker they found in their purse. It was driving us to all the places we needed to be and had to go to play sports or hang out with friends. It was even nagging us to put on a jacket when the weather was chilly or yelling at us to be careful or bringing an extra pair of just about anything we might need, just in case.

Their love was wonky at times, but it was also fierce, and I feel that fierceness in me now too. I also feel the exhaustion and anxiety of trying to manage my own life while raising little humans. I experience, in a small way, the disconnect of language between one generation and another in the meaning and choice of words, though I have the ease and comfort of having the same mother tongue as my children. I also carry bandaids and cough drops and baby wipes in my bag and car for all the just-in-cases. And with the privilege of not having to survive every day, I have the freedom to be both grown-up and childlike. I get to hold the wonder, the gravity, and the responsibility of forming and creating a world for the next generation in a way the generation before me may not have had the bandwidth to do.

But in everything I do, I must remember that love must be the through line. And it needs to be the kind of love that’s real, transformative, the kind that lasts. As 1 Corinthians 13 reminds us, anything we do and anything we are amounts to nothing if we don’t have love. We see that theme woven back and forth throughout the whole Bible and especially in the life of Jesus. Jesus was love made flesh, love embodied. As I think about how to live this middle-aged life stage well, how to create a world for the next generation that would generate flourishing, I remember how Jesus lived out 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 –

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

I want to be like Him. I feel the weighty importance of loving like Jesus, particularly now, when I’m needing to care for generations on either side of me, when I’m mentoring our church youth kids and the young adults in my life, when I’m seeing time pass too quickly and recognizing how precious every moment is with my family and friends.

One day, this life stage will pass, so for the time being, while I’m still here, I’m trying my best to let love be the throughline.

 

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

The Unexpected Gift of Finding Common Ground

by

I had a wonderful time with one of my best pals the other night. I never imagined saying that about someone more than forty years older than me who was born in another country. I never imagined I would love someone so much with whom I had so little in common. She has never been a mother or sister, and I’ve never been an artist or engineer. She’s never written a book and I’ve never traveled the world. I don’t know what it’s like to lose my husband or live through WWII, and she doesn’t know what it’s like to live with clinical anxiety.

But for all our differences, there is always common ground to be found.

We both have an affinity for houseplants, reading, and a good cup of coffee. We both adore mountains and trees and changing leaves. We both believe life is better with pie and gratitude. And every time we’re together, I learn something new about my beautifully aged friend that makes me love her even more.

As we sat together near first base, watching my two older sons play baseball as the late afternoon sky turned to golden dusk and the nearby foothills, palm trees, and pines popped like charcoal silhouettes against the sky, I learned that once Christel sliced her leg open while skiing. When she got to urgent care, the doctor told her the numbing shots might hurt as bad as the actual stitches. So she said, “Well then, just sew me up! But make sure you do it tight because I’ve got a downhill ski race in three days.”

She threw her head back and laughed. It was almost as if her decades of lines and wrinkles faded into the shadows of wild memories. Though her eighty-something-year-old body can longer shred the slopes, run a 10K, soar upside down in a prop plane, or whitewater raft (yes, she did all those things!), her adventurous spark and joy for life is still alive and well.

And I almost missed the gift of her story and pleasure.

Earlier in the day, Christel came to mind. She often does. Several times a week I stop by with a cup of coffee (with cream and sugar, just how she likes it, and only half full because she and her husband always shared just one cup). How sweet is that? Or she comes over for dinner, or I drop off a plate of tacos or a bowl of chili if we’re running back and forth between kids’ sports. We’ve grown into a sweet rhythm of sharing life. My boys take her trashcans in and out every week. She pops onto our porch with a box of See’s candy or pie from Marie Calendar’s. Bless her.

Over the years God has taught me to pay attention to His Spirit and to whom He wants to love through my presence. This has especially been true with Christel. There was the time He used my dusty skills in medical billing to alleviate a source of her stress. Or the time He showed me how a chocolate cake can be a step of obedience. I’ve learned to delight in responding to the Spirit’s guidance, even if it costs me temporary awkwardness or inconvenience.

But when I felt the nudge to invite Christel to the baseball game, I hesitated. The thought crossed my mind that it would be easier to go to the game alone. Alone I could listen to a podcast or sneak in a chapter of Jami Nato’s book between innings. Alone I wouldn’t have to worry if she was hot or cold or needed a play-by-play explanation. But alone also isn’t as rich as together. Alone doesn’t make room for someone else to belong. If I had chosen alone, Christel would have spent another evening alone too.

I pulled out my phone and scooted closer to my dear friend. She doesn’t understand selfies, but I told her I like capturing memories, so she obliged and gave me a little wave to boot.

I showed her the photo and she asked, “How can I get a print of this?”

“I’ll get one made for you.”

She smiled wide and said she will send it to her family in Germany.

I think God was smiling too. He delights when His kids take care of one another. He is thrilled when we soak in His love for us so much that we can’t help but let it pour out to others.

Hebrews 13:16 says, “Don’t neglect to do what is good and to share, for God is pleased with such sacrifices.”

Philippians 2:4 reminds us, “Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.”

And of course, Jesus commands, “Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other” (John 13:34).

Who in your life can you love and look out for this week? Who might be waiting for an invitation to belong? I guarantee they won’t be the only ones marked by the gift of together.

For more encouragement in loving people right where you are with exactly what you have, grab a copy of Becky’s book, The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact.

 

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

The Father of Mercy (and Announcing Our Summer Online Bible Study!)

by

“But you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.”
Romans 8:15–16

When I was a child, I didn’t see my father express a lot of emotion unless he was angry. He would praise me on the soccer field or if I got good grades, but he didn’t always tell me he loved me or shower me with affection. I still remember the day my dad drove me to college for my freshman year. I was filled with excitement and nervousness as I anticipated moving away from home.

As we were driving, I looked over at my dad and saw tears streaming down his face. I was stunned because I had only seen my dad cry maybe once or twice in my eighteen years of life. Although he was very supportive of my attending college, he was overcome with emotion that day at the thought that I was moving away. I realized at that moment the depth of my dad’s love for me. His tears expressed far more than words ever could and gave me a deeper love and gratitude for my daddy.

Whether or not we have a good relationship with our earthly father, we are invited to connect with God as the Father of mercy.

God shows Himself to be a compassionate Father over and over again. He doesn’t always give us what we want or wish for, but He offers us His very presence, which is a gift of mercy.

Ephesians 2:4-5 says, “But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace, you have been saved…”

Dear Lord, I am grateful for Your grace, patience, steadfast love, and faithfulness. No matter what my relationship looks like with my earthly father, thank You for being a perfect example to me of a father’s love. Help me to be like You and to show compassion and mercy to others around me. Amen.

Story by Dorina Lazo Gilmore-Young as published in Create in Me a Heart of Mercy

Create in Me a Heart of Mercy is now available, and we are SO excited to be kicking off our Summer Online Bible Study! We can’t wait to spend six weeks going through the Create in Me a Heart of Mercy Bible study, written by Dorina Lazo Gilmore-Young and featuring stories from several of our (in)courage contributors. Here’s what you need to know:

Join the Heart of Mercy Online Bible Study!

1. You’ll need a copy of the Create in Me a Heart of Mercy Bible study to fully participate in the study. We will provide the reading guidelines, discussion questions, and teaching videos along the way!

2. Officially sign up for the study (it’s free to join!). Click here and register. When you do, we’ll send you the first week from Create in Me a Heart of Mercy AND a printable page of Scripture Memory Bookmarks for FREE!

3. The study runs from June 19th to July 24th.  Every Monday you can start that week’s lessons and tune in for “Moments of Mercy with Dorina” — an inspiring teaching video that will encourage you along the way! On Mondays, we’ll send you an email with the memory verse, a link to the video on YouTube, lock screens, reflection questions, and more. You’re invited to join the conversations on our social posts each Monday and Thursday as well.

This really couldn’t be easier!

Invite a few friends to join you! Send them to this page so they can sign up! If you’re looking to connect with other women in real life, this is a great way to do so. Just work through each week of the Bible study, gather (in person or online) to watch that week’s video, enjoy your own discussion, and close in prayer. We even have a Leaders Guide ready for you!

That’s it! Super fun and low-stress, right? That’s how we like to do things in the sweet summertime.

Don’t have your copy of the study yet or want to give a copy to a friend? Cue a GIVEAWAY*! 

Tell us in the comments if you’ve got your book already or to whom you’d like to gift a copy, and we’ll pick FIVE of you to WIN a free copy of the Bible study! Then mark your calendars for June 19th when we kick off the Create in Me a Heart of Mercy Online Bible Study!

Join the online study and let’s seek hearts of mercy — together.

 

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

 

*The giveaway is open to U.S. addresses only and closes on June 7th at 11:59 pm central.

Read This if Your Child Has Strayed from the Faith

by

When I was 18 years old, I wasn’t sure what I thought about Jesus. And I certainly wasn’t sure what I thought about some people who professed Christianity.

Intellectually, I had become increasingly unconvinced that Jesus was the Son of God. Furthermore, I saw hypocrisy within the church that disturbed me deeply.

I was left with a choice about deciding who I wanted to be moving into adulthood, and while the idea of exploring Jesus was intriguing, I stepped onto a path of growing ambivalence toward the faith. There were points in my life when I truly wanted to adopt the faith that my parents had dutifully raised me in. A candlelit service on Christmas Eve would elicit tears. An old hymn would spark a familiar warmth inside of me.

But in time, the warmth faded, as I moved farther away from the fire that fed it.

Why am I telling you this today?

Because even after I turned away from Jesus, He didn’t turn away from me. True to God’s promise in Psalm 23:6, His faithful love would indeed “pursue me all the days of my life.”

And pursue, He did.

Years later, I am standing by the fire again. Jesus is not only my best friend, but the CEO of my ministry.

Do I believe in miracles? Yes, because I am one.

You’re likely reading this today because you are asking for a miracle, too. Someone you love has strayed far from God. Perhaps you are the parent who painstakingly raised them to know Jesus.

You’ve prayed. Hard.

You’ve cried. A lot.

You trusted God. And yet stand in the silence.

Your child shows no signs of returning.

Friend, I was that child.

And that’s why I am here: To give you hope.

I understand that not every faith story turns around like mine did. I also know that the reasons people come back to the faith are as varied and complex as the reasons they leave.

Some, like me, have intellectual obstacles that aren’t quickly reconciled with earthly logic.

Others have observed hypocrisy in the church, or have been told that the way they behave or vote doesn’t fit the mold. Still others have been wounded by the church.

So they left.

And you — dear soul — are standing in the wake, asking questions like:

“What in the world can I do?”

“Will the ones I love be in heaven with me?”

First of all, know that God understands what it’s like to have children who don’t follow Him. God has been dealing with the rebellion of His kids since the first two walked upon the earth.

But there’s more. While all humans have a rebellious streak, we also have this: an inborn desire for purpose. And that purpose is in God; He made it so.

“…he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us.” (Acts 17:26-27).

Blaise Pascal observed that everyone has a “God-shaped vacuum” inside our heart. We may try to fill it with work, pleasure, or relationships. But it can only be satisfied by one thing: Jesus.

As a woman who once strayed from God — and now as a mother who prays that her daughters stay the course — that God-shaped hole gives me peace.

The so-called Hound of Heaven will pursue our children “all the days of their lives,” just as He pursued me, and just as He pursued you, no matter how “faithless” we are.

As it says in 2 Timothy 2:13, “If we are faithless, he remains faithful…”

We can agree with God, by remaining faithful alongside Him.

Faithful in modeling the love of Jesus.

Faithful in doing that kind of parenting that happens on our knees. It’s more than parenting. It’s “prayer-enting.”

There will be moments when any parent will be tempted to guilt a loved one into attending church or behaving differently. But let’s remember: no one has successfully shamed another person into a relationship with Jesus. That’s a relationship built on grace and love.

Finally, let’s hold on to the promise that Jesus pursues us all, to the very end. Remember the thief on the cross, who waited until his last moments on earth to respond to Jesus’ gift of salvation. Jesus turned to him with these words: “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43).

The wait, of course, can be agonizing.

But as one who has lived on both sides of that wait, I urge you, with all that is within me, to keep waiting. Keep going. Determine to live your life with joy and peace. Model the kind of love that Jesus taught. Acknowledge your own brokenness. “Prayer-ent” like you’ve never prayer-ented before.

And know, deep within you, that these children are God’s. The Hound of Heaven is in pursuit.

Suggested Resources:

Here are two books that have helped me on this journey.:

The first is The Case for Christ, by Lee Strobel. As someone with intellectual doubts, this book provided credible proof about Jesus. (A note of caution: Many who have strayed from the faith will not find comfort in receiving such a book, for their objections aren’t necessarily with the teachings of Jesus, but with professed Christians and/or the church as a whole.)

The second book is for parents: Love, Pray, Listen: Parenting Your Wayward Adult Kids with Joy by Mary DeMuth. It offers advice when your children choose different paths from yours.

 

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

How to Make Friends with Silence

by

If there was anything I dreaded, it was silence.

When the night closed in, the hollowness in my stomach would hit hard. Singleness, aloneness, and the looming thought on repeat. Did I miss my chance?

I had gone through a divorce several years prior, something that took me far from wanting to set foot in the church. The healing wouldn’t fully come, and over the years I desperately tried to fill in the places of brokenness with distraction. I dated, bought all the cute clothes, changed my hair color, and filled my calendar with as much as I could to numb the pain. While none of these things are bad, it was the busyness and the silencing of my soul that was doing the damage.

But, you can’t escape the night . . . and when you are in the burbs, the quiet is very apparent. I would toss and turn and feel the deep aches within, screaming for attention. Over time the aches became anxiety, moving throughout my bones constantly. And soon enough my days became a battle to get through without feeling the pull of an anxious and insecure heart. Something had to change — I couldn’t handle the heavy feelings anymore.

I decided to make friends with Silence, and I would intentionally do so during the evenings before bed. Making a sanctuary in my room, I found a plush rug from Aldi and a friendly plant that sprawled across the corner of my sacred space. I added a small table with candles and a simple lamp. And, each night, as the evening ushered in, I’d light the candles and sit in silence. I would allow the heaviness and anxiety to fall upon me as I learned to sit still in the present.

I took notice of the anxiety that filled my stomach . . . and I began to welcome it with open arms. And then, slowly, I allowed myself to be okay with the hurt I was feeling — the parts that felt unfair, the angry parts that went way different than I wanted, and the parts where I needed to take ownership. At first it was hard; it was very hard to sit still and let the silence be alright. But then one night, tears began to fall. And they kept falling until, somehow, they soaked through my weary flesh . . . and began to soften my soul.

Sometimes, in these moments, I would play worship music and cry out to God. Oftentimes, I was asking why or demanding to know when I would feel okay again. But regardless of the approach, I began to ask God to come into the silence with me. And I chose to trust He was there with me — sitting by my side, holding my outstretched hands, healing my heart.

Over a timeframe of a couple years, I began to welcome the silence as something refreshing. I began to crave the present moment. I began to be okay with letting distractions fall away as I welcomed silence and welcomed the healing that happened in it. A lot of times it was not fun, and it was not easy. It first became an intention . . . and then a craving. Moments of silence turned into quiet walks as the sun was setting, candles in the cozy corner of my room, and inhaling and exhaling as I focused on my breath.

Silence has become a beautiful way to connect with Jesus, to be still and remember He knows the intricate details of my soul. It’s only in the silence and in moving away from distractions that I was able to see all that was possible . . . again.

Your Longing Is a Good Thing

by

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When can I go and meet with God?
Psalm 42:2

Anytime. Anywhere. That’s the answer to the psalmist’s cry.

We were made with a thirst only God can satisfy. Social media, shopping, wine, gossip, achievements, more stuff, and better relationships are all just temporary fixes to what our soul really craves — Jesus. We long for meaning, acceptance, assurance, and purpose. We yearn for peace, comfort, joy, and love. Nothing apart from God can fill the never-ending hole in our hearts. He’s the only One.

We don’t have to try to stuff down or fill up our longings. We simply have to say:

God, my soul thirst for You. I’m ready to meet with you. I’m ready to receive whatever it is You have for me today. 

God hears your prayer and He’s already right there with you.

 

Repentance Must Precede Restoration

by

God, create a clean heart for me
and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not banish me from your presence
or take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore the joy of your salvation to me,
and sustain me by giving me a willing spirit.
Then I will teach the rebellious your ways,
and sinners will return to you.
Psalm 51:10-13

I picture David face down, vulnerable before the Lord, as his guilt and sorrow pour out from his broken spirit. He was left with nothing but humility, recognizing how broken he was and how deeply he needed to be restored by God. He knew the type of sacrifice God required of him. God wanted his heart, a sacrifice of pride, for it is pride that keeps us from repentance. Repentance must precede restoration. Unlike me for far too long, David was fully aware of this. My pride kept me from a humbled, broken posture before the Lord.

Our world today makes it tough to appear anything but stoic, perfect, and in complete control. Peruse Facebook, and in seconds you’ll see this played out. But we know all too well that on the other side of that screen sits a nearly broken spirit — maybe that person is you. Perhaps you have been running and hiding from your repentance because of fear, doubt, or pride. Or, like me, you question whether God will forgive you.

God is far bigger than anything our minds can conceive. We were created to live fully. We must put our unbelief aside and choose to believe that God wants to restore us to a life full of His provision, blessing, mercy, grace, forgiveness, and love. Are you desperate for restoration today? Do you believe that your humbled heart, laid out before Him in repentance, will bring restoration? Do you believe God wants to restore you?

Do you believe He will? I am praying that if you are in a place of needing restoration, you will run to the Father now and trust Him with your broken spirit and humbled heart.

This excerpt is by Tam Hodge, published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible. It has been edited from its original form.

—

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

When Your Answer Just Might Be a Question

by

One of my daughters was struggling earlier this year to understand a decision her teacher made at school. All the feelings of confusion, frustration, and misunderstanding came tumbling out as she unpacked the details for me. This decision came at a cost to my daughter and to other students. My instinct was to call that teacher and give her a piece of my mind for the pain and embarrassment she had caused my girl. However, as a mama to three tween and teenage girls, it’s more important in this season of life to help them learn to respectfully articulate their concerns and to ask good questions.

Asking good questions is an art form and an advocacy tool. 

Questions can help us cultivate curiosity about other people and their perspectives. 

Questions can bring clarity and uncover nuances to a situation. 

Questions can provide an avenue to challenge an injustice we see or experience.

In the book of Numbers, there is a story that will remain indelible in my heart even though it’s not often preached about. This is the story of five sisters who are part of the nation of Israel, the daughters of Zelophehad. These women in Numbers 27 are named Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah. They walk a journey of deep grief and hardship when their father died, and they were left without provision. 

This sister squad put their heads together and decide to go to their leader Moses with a proposal. They start with a respectful, yet pointed question: “Why should the name of our father disappear from his clan just because he had no sons? Give us property along with the rest of our relatives” Numbers 27:4 (NLT).

These girls are asking for rights to their daddy’s property. Perhaps it seems a reasonable request in our context, but in those times daughters did not own property; Sons did. Daughters were given a dowry or monetary gift when they married, but did not inherit land. If a man had no sons, his estate would pass to the nearest male relative. By asking this courageous question, these daughters are challenging the traditional rules of society. So Moses hears their question and brings their case before the Lord. 

God’s response is compassionate: “The claim of the daughters of Zelophehad is legitimate. You must give them a grant of land along with their father’s relatives. Assign them the property that would have been given to their father. Numbers 27:7.

This story shows us God’s heart for women and the power of asking questions. The daughters of Zelophehad could have kept quiet. They also could have demanded the land with a sense of entitlement. Instead, they ask a question that changes history. God has Moses clarify the law so there is provision for these specific women and women in the future who might be in a similar predicament. 

Later, in the book of Joshua when the leaders are divvying up the Promised Land, these same sisters appear again. They go to Eleazar the priest, Joshua, and the other leaders to remind them of how the law was changed back in Numbers 27. 

Joshua gives them the land along with their uncles: “As a result, Manasseh’s total allocation came to ten parcels of land, in addition to the land of Gilead and Bashan across the Jordan River, because the female descendants of Manasseh received a grant of land along with the male descendants” (Joshua 17:5-6).

Friend, can you think of a time in your life when you were unsure of how to handle a situation? Have you ever experienced something frustrating or witnessed an injustice? Have you longed to overcome a rift in a relationship? Questions are a powerful way to engage others. 

Jesus is a master at asking purposeful questions. He uses questions to teach, to defend, to challenge, to make people think, and to help center the stories of those who often went unseen or unnoticed.

He asks a chronically sick man: “Would you like to get well?” (John 5:6, NLT), tending to his faith before healing him. 

He asks a lonely Samaritan woman at a well: “Will you give me a drink?” (John 4:7, NIV) and engages her in conversation, revealing Himself for the first time as the Messiah.

Jesus perceives the challenging thoughts of the scribes and Pharisees, and responds to them with a question: “Why do you question in your hearts? (Luke 5:22, ESV).

“But what about you?” Jesus asks His disciple Peter. “Who do you say I am?” in a poignant moment with His disciples before facing His death on the cross (Matthew 16:15, NIV)

He asks two unassuming men on the road to Emmaus: “What are you discussing so intently as you walk along?” (Luke 24:17, NLT).

Jesus models how to use thoughtful questions to foster understanding, build relationships, and deepen faith among the people. 

My daughter and I talked through the situation at school, shed some tears together, and finally prayed about how to respond. I have been mentoring my girls to advocate for themselves when they find themselves in tough situations. My daughter went to school the next day equipped with some honest questions for her teacher. These questions didn’t fix the situation necessarily, but they did help bring a greater understanding and clarity. Most importantly, my daughter found a sense of peace from the Holy Spirit and resolve that has helped propel her forward as a leader among her peers. 

Together we are remembering the daughters of Zelophehad who asked a brave question that changed history.

Where is God leading you to ask a question and courageously wait for an answer?

Dorina has a new children’s book, Chasing God’s Glory, that leads kids of all ages to discover God and His glory on life’s trails. Find details about the new book and subscribe to Dorina’s weekly Glorygram here!

 

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

Living Our Best Year

by

After three weeks of hospice care, my mother quietly passed away in her own bed, surrounded by friends and family, on my 38th birthday. She never met the youngest of our eight children, much less their future spouses and the great-grandchildren she could have known in a healthier life, with a healthier body.

I’m now the age she was when she died. My heart aches not only for the pain she endured but also for nineteen years worth of memories she’s missed.

I’m determined not to take these days for granted. Life is a gift. And so I’m dedicating this year to my mother, to living my best year — our best year — and doing all the things she could have done if she’d been healthier or if she were still here with us.

Recently I painted our dark kitchen cabinets white. On the second day, when I realized they required a minimum of six coats, I wanted to quit. Obviously, this wasn’t an option. A couple of things carried me through those two weeks of work: my husband’s help and encouragement and a new thought: I would dedicate the work to my mother’s memory and do it for both of us.

This year I’ll make a host of treasured memories, some anticipated, others unexpected, in her honor. Graduating my youngest daughter (my mom was too sick to attend my younger sister’s high school graduation). Taking a mother/daughter trip to Nashville to see a Taylor Swift concert. Attending some Braves home games (my mother was a faithful fan who kept her own scorebook during postseason games). Helping one of our daughters plan her wedding and enter the next stage of life.

My mother was a faithful member of the Doubleday Book Club; our den had a wall of bookcases filled with hardback fiction titles. I devoured them as a teen, which contributed to my lifelong love affair with a good story. Although I’ve released non-fiction books as both author and contributor, I read novels almost exclusively. I’ve found fiction easy to read but intimidating to write, but I’m working on something now and it’s fun to imagine my mother engrossed in a story I wrote for both of us.

Lately, I find myself playing more card and board games, or sitting on the couch watching baseball with the family. I’ve told my children I’ll go to the pool with them this summer, which I usually avoid (the pool, not the children). More than anything, I want to be present in the lives of my people. The effect of my mother’s absence in my life illustrates the importance of my presence.

My mother faced a series of medical decisions, some seemingly innocuous, that snowballed into a life marked by medical intervention and the quest for relief from pain and suffering. Dependence on doctors and pharmaceuticals dominated her existence; it stripped her of autonomy. Because of her experience, I don’t make health decisions lightly. Those chains that confined her purchased my freedom.

Yesterday I walked with my son and grandson on what we fondly call the Adventure Trail. My mother used a cane for years and had a disability parking permit; she joked that we drove her places to get a good parking space. She didn’t have the ability to do basic things, like grocery shop, without help. I want to walk my dog and hike our neighborhood trails knowing how happy my mother would be that I can. Lord, please don’t let me forget that mobility is a gift.

Although each day was a struggle, my mother lived with dignity. She was wise, outspoken, and honest. She was weak but not lazy. She had a sense of humor and laughed a lot. Her family was precious to her. She was always there for me. Always. She conserved energy, hoping she’d have the stamina to make it to church. Her faith sustained her.

She lived out lessons you can build a life on.

“My child, listen when your father corrects you.
Don’t neglect your mother’s instruction.
What you learn from them will crown you with grace
 and be a chain of honor around your neck.”
Proverbs 1:8-9 (NLT)

I hope my story demonstrates the power of a mother’s influence. Our children gain an understanding of the world and how to function in it from us. It’s true that motherhood can be a thankless job. With young children, there’s much work and little recognition. With older children, you may feel forgotten or unneeded. My mother meant a lot to me, but I didn’t always tell her so. Remember: God sees you. He sees what you do. Your dedication to your family not only benefits them, but it honors Him.

My mother had faults; I learned from them too. Perfection isn’t possible this side of heaven. We do the best we can because it matters. Ripples of my mother’s influence linger, still spreading throughout my family years beyond her passing. This is the impact we have on our children’s lives.

We celebrate mothers in May, whether they’re here with us or live on in memory. Remembering what they stood for and what they taught us, let us honor them in an effort to embody their best.

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

 

Make a Gracious Exit Without Making a Mess

by

Endings are hard. Sometimes, we go out of our way to avoid them. At other times, we postpone them, like sliding our favorite worn-out jeans to the back of our closet because we don’t want to throw them away. Endings are often scary, awkward, and sad, even when we know that they are needed. How many of us remain in toxic job environments because we fear the uncertainty or uncomfortableness of leaving? Here’s a principle that we know, but don’t love: When we avoid timely endings, we often experience messy exits.

For years, I worked in ministry and encountered thousands of volunteers, church staff, and leaders nationwide. I noticed that people had difficulty admitting they were no longer passionate or interested in their serving role. Few people seemed to know how to say, “It’s been a pleasure serving with you, but it’s time for me to leave this role.”

While I understand that people don’t want to leave a ministry short-staffed, disappoint a manager, or suffer the ire of a toxic boss, we’re not doing anyone a favor by staying when our soul is screaming for us to go. Too many times over the years, I’ve witnessed what I call the “staff rapture.” This happens when a volunteer or staff member stayed too long out of duty, people-pleasing, pride, or stubbornness. Soon, they begin to resent showing up. Eventually, their pent up frustration explodes into angry words or accusations. The ugly finale happens when they storm out, never to be seen again. Then, the next weekend someone asks, “Hey, where’s Beth?” Someone else shrugs her shoulders. “We don’t know. She was here last week, and now she’s gone and not answering her phone.”

Perhaps you’ve seen this. Or, maybe it’s happened to you. Whether you stormed out or quietly faded away, the pain of a messy exit can sideline us from living out our purpose for months or years to come.

How do we gracefully exit a ministry, a job, or an organization sooner rather than later when we sense God or our heart telling us to move on?

The first step is giving ourselves permission to remember that we’re not assigned to any job or role forever. There’s an ebb and flow to our human experience that’s best summed up by the wisest man who ever lived:

For everything there is a season,
a time for every activity under heaven.
Ecclesiastes 3:1

As believers, our eternal destiny with Christ will never change, but our earthly assignments will. This verse sets up the expectation that there will be starts and stops, so we need to prepare ourselves to handle both. This means that if you’ve been serving in a job or a volunteer role that is no longer serving you (or allowing you to serve others well), pray and ask God whether the season for your involvement has changed. Trust that God will answer you.

In early 2015, I sensed God calling me to let go of my staff role at the church where I’d worked for over thirteen years. I’d spent my early staff years in part-time children’s ministry. In later years, I served on the weekend teaching team and executive leadership team. Comfortable in my corner office, I was confronted with giving up what I’d worked so hard for. I was intimidated by the thought of starting over again. Surely, it would be easier to stay. One day, I prayed and asked, “God, can I stay?” Over the years, I’d witnessed God do great and mighty things that I was part of, and I didn’t want it to end.

God’s response to my question was this: “Do you believe that I have more for you?”

I didn’t know the answer. Actually, I didn’t want to admit that I wasn’t sure if I believed that He had more for me. How could I give up what was comfortable and good when I didn’t know what was next? But, I chose to trust Him.

Over the next five months, I prepared and prayed while leaning into the wisdom of trusted friends and counselors. In time, I recognized that as much as I loved what I was a part of, God was calling me to leave, even though I didn’t have a clear picture of my future. I sat down with my colleagues, including our new lead pastor and shared my plans. In the months to come, there were many good-byes, celebrations, and tears. But thanks to God’s prompting, I gave myself the time to end well and experienced the blessing of peace with a grace-filled ending.

Endings are hard, but you don’t have to make them harder by refusing to move on. Is God leading you in a new direction in some area of your life? Give yourself the gift of embracing the end so you can embark on your new beginning without the memories of a messy ending.

 

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

 

Sleep Psalms

by

Sleeplessness is a problem for so many in our world today, but peaceful, deep, and restful sleep is possible. Friend, if you struggle with a racing mind, wakeful spirit, and troubled heart before bed, we have just the book for you. Sleep Psalms: Nightly Moments of Mindfulness and Rest by Pray.com will help calm your mind and re-center you on God. Throughout the 100 entries, you’ll discover deep peace and be reminded that God is in control. Each entry focuses on the lyrical poetry of the Psalms and also includes a short devotion and prayer. God is working for our good even as we sleep. Read on for an excerpt from Sleep Psalms:

—

No matter what your day looks like, no matter what obstacles are in front of us, there is joy to be found here — yes, joy! We can have joy because of God’s strength that empowers us to help us, to guard us, to hold us, and to lead us to victory and rest. We will not face a single struggle on our own, and this is something to celebrate.

As you breathe in the hope you have in God, breathe out the stresses you carry. Open your heart to His love and allow Him to usher you into His peace and calm. Tonight, find rest in the goodness and faithfulness of God and let these verses lead you into the joy that is yours when your thoughts are focused on Him.

O LORD, the king rejoices in the strength You give;
he takes great delight in the deliverance You provide.
You grant him his heart’s desire;
You do not refuse his request. (Selah)
For You bring him rich blessings;
You place a golden crown on his head.
He asked You to sustain his life,
and You have granted him long life and an enduring dynasty. Your deliverance brings him great honor;
You give him majestic splendor.
For You grant him lasting blessings;
You give him great joy by allowing him into Your presence. For the king trusts in the LORD,
and because of the Most High’s faithfulness he is not shaken. You prevail over all Your enemies;
Your power is too great for those who hate You.
You bum them up like a fiery furnace when You appear. The LORD angrily devours them;
the fire consumes them.
You destroy their offspring from the earth,
their descendants from among the human race.
Yes, they intend to do You harm;
they dream up a scheme, but they do not succeed.
For You make them retreat
when You aim Your arrows at them. Rise up, O LORD, in strength!
We will sing and praise Your power.
Psalm 21

Worshiping God before you go to sleep can give you a new perspective on your day and help you focus on positive thoughts, calming your mind and relaxing your body. Reflect on His goodness and be reminded of His continual faithfulness in all the great things He has done, giving you deep, restful sleep.

Think of a time when God granted your prayers and answered your request for something, but you were moving too quickly to realize He helped you and answered your pleas. Take a moment to acknowledge that, ask for His forgiveness, and give Him the glory tonight!

Rejoice in God’s faithfulness. Praise God for the times He has answered your prayers and given you the desires of your heart. Praise Him for all the good things in your life.

Lord, I ask for healing of all the bruises I carry; restore my spirit and help me to remember Your mighty power. Surround me with Your soothing presence and receive my voice of praise for Your faithfulness to me. Thank You for loving me just as I am-let me rest in Your love tonight. Thank You for the gift of knowing that Your strength is mine to draw from in all the circumstances I face. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.

– 

With 99 more devotions to help you wind down from your day and reconnect with God before you go to sleep, Sleep Psalms by Pray.com is a wonderful addition to your daily devotions.

Pray.com serves millions of Christians worldwide by helping people make prayer a priority in their life. Pray.com is driven by a mission to grow faith, cultivate community, and leave a legacy of helping others. Pray.com helps people hear the Bible come to life with world-class, faith-based audio content, make prayer a priority with inspiring daily devotions, and experience peace before they go to sleep with Bedtime Bible Stories narrated by celebrity voices.

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

Then listen in this weekend for a bonus episode of the (in)courage podcast as Ryan Beck, co-creator of Pray.com, talks with Becky Keife about Sleep Psalms!

 

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

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm central on 5/30/23. Winners will be drawn at random and notified via email. Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery.

You Don’t Have to Figure it Out

by

I walked while I listened to her gentle voice through my AirPods. I listened to her story, her desires, her longings. I listened as she described her calling. Her voice slowed down. I increased my speed on the gym treadmill. Her words fumbled around for minutes before they landed here, “I want to write a book.” This sentence was followed by disclaimers, all of her failed attempts, and cautious questions. I have had this conversation before. It wasn’t about writing a book, but it has always been about a dream of some sort. A dream of going back to school, starting a business, buying a camera, taking a class, stepping away from a 9–5 job. 

I kept walking.

I remember walking up and down the hills of my old neighborhood with a massive stroller. The baby wasn’t in the stroller, but wailing in my arms as I pushed it — empty. I was still far away from home. The weight of my loneliness was far greater than the weight of my child. I wanted a way out of this feeling. So in all the in between moments, I fantasized my way out of this life. I imagined careers that were creative and, of course, well paid. I imagined doing something meaningful like starting non-profits or a business that helped the displaced.  I imagined a life where I could escape the long days of breastfeeding and sleep training. I dreamed of doing something that could bring me into a better life. A life where I didn’t feel lonely or useless or tired. So, I dreamed. I dreamed of something I could do that could take me out of my pain.

I remember walking the aisles of the camera store, the Apple store, the art and design store. I walked between extremes of excitement and the fear of failure. If I was going to go anywhere with my dreams, I had to make it happen. I was anxious. I was afraid. I was desperate at times too. I felt pressure to work hard and the panic of not working hard enough. 

My pace on the treadmill was consistent now. In silence I listened to her navigate her desires as though she was in a dark room dodging a spotlight. Then I said, “You don’t have to figure it out.” I heard her almost exhale. That’s the biggest mistake I ever made with my dreams. I had a spark of inspiration and then I immediately started trying to figure out how to make it happen.

Every single dream I tried to figure out — failed. Every dream I walked by faith led to fruition in one form or another.

God gives us dreams not to take us out of our lives, our loneliness, our pain, our discouragement, or our anxiety. Rather, we are called to enter into our lives. By doing this, we enter our dreams too. God drops dreams into our imagination because He calls us to do art in the dark places. Write the book in the dim hours of morning light. Advocate for the poor out of your own poverty. Train your eyes to capture beauty before you ever pick up a camera. Become a wife not by desperately searching for the right man, but by becoming the woman God has designed you to be. The dream of a house doesn’t come by means of your good fortune, but by the hospitality God is growing in you every day.

Dreams aren’t fulfilled in boardrooms, better systems, or strategies, but in the quiet desperation of your own soul’s sanctuary. In the pew of continuous petition, in the slow cup of suffering, in the growling hunger for the Word, in the worship of the one true God, and in the baptism of all forms of idolatry and the rising of unexplainable freedom — this is where dreams grow breath and bones. 

Dreams, the ones you are really called to, don’t happen by magic, marketing tips, or sales numbers. They don’t happen by your genius, good time management, networking, or number crunching. Dreams certainly don’t come from your ability to figure them out. Because the dreams that matter most have little to do with results and everything to do with your formation. God is always, every time, and all the time about the formation of your heart to know His good, wide, and endless love. His dream for you is to be deeply formed by His expansive love. You, growing into your belovedness is God’s greatest desire for your life.

When a dream emerges, resist doing something to make.it.happen. Nowhere in Scripture does God say—try harder, do more, figure it out, make connections, it’s all on you, time is running out. Actually, the instructions God gives are quite the opposite. He says—Come to me, rest, abide, trust, you are not alone, I will be with you until the end of the ages, I will prepare a place for you.

Beware of the alluring temptations within your dreams. They will temp to take you away from the life God has given you. Even dreams for the Lord can take you from Him. Relieve yourself of the pressure to figure it out. Instead, step into your own soul, enter your life, be committed to the creativity you are called to, and trust the Lord is faithful. 

Most of all, walk in love.


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

Take Note of This…

by

“My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires. Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you.”
James 1:19-21

It’s as if James, the half-brother of Jesus, isn’t writing to first century believers but to 2023 Christians. It’s like he knows how quick jabs and angry tirades have become the cultural norm, even a sign of moral superiority (no matter your position or side). But while fast, lashing tongues (or typing) might be acceptable and applauded by the world, James reminds us that “human anger does NOT produce the righteousness that GOD desires.”

It’s a truth that transcends time and culture. Clearly the human condition needs the reminder again and again (and again) that we honor God and His image in others when we bite our tongue and train our ears to listen, really listen, before we ever speak. Anger is not a sin on it’s own — Jesus was flipping-tables angry when His Father’s temple was used like a shady marketplace to pad the pockets of the religious elite. But when anger is always our knee-jerk reaction, it’s time for some soul reflection. 

So sisters, let’s ask God today to help us humbly accept His Word planted in us. Let’s ask God to reveal areas of our lives — relationships, social media habits, hot button issues — that provoke us to spewing our opinions before consulting the Holy Spirit.

May God’s Living Water quench our need to be right, loud, and angry. May He instead refresh us with His wisdom so we can listen well and reply with humility when He says the time is right.

 

Let’s Spend Summer Saturdays (in) the Psalms

by

It’s easy to spend summer weekends with lazy days strung together with glowing screens and blasting AC. Maybe you fill your weekends with activities that keep you even busier than the rest of the year. Or perhaps summer weekends mean the usual reprieve from a nine-to-five job or that same motherhood routine . . . and the only difference is the climbing heat.

Whatever your summer weekends look like, we know it takes intentionality to include more of Jesus in the rhythm of your days.

We can’t think of a better place to camp out this summer than in the Psalms.

The Psalms are known as fertile ground for connecting deeply with the heart of God. They are beautiful examples of what raw, honest, transparent communication with God looks like. Hopes and fears poured out. Hearts surrendered. Lives transformed. Through the Psalms, we see God’s love, compassion, and unshakable commitment to His people. We see God’s nearness, God’s with-ness.

On Saturdays this summer, we’ll share our favorite psalms + several devotions from the (in)courage Devotional Bible.

We can’t wait to spend summer Saturdays (in) the Psalms with you!

—

“Let the whole earth shout triumphantly to the Lord!
Serve the Lord with gladness;
come before him with joyful songs.
Acknowledge that the Lord is God.
He made us, and we are his —
his people, the sheep of his pasture.
Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise.
Give thanks to him and bless his name.
For the Lord is good, and his faithful love endures forever;
his faithfulness, through all generations.”
Psalm 100

When stress and anxiety don’t let up, how do we shout triumphantly to the Lord? How do we come before Him with joyful songs? Joy isn’t easy to embrace when we’re overwhelmed and when grief and loss are closer companions on this journey than we’d like.

But verses 3 and 5 of Psalm 100 guide us toward joy. We acknowledge that the Lord is God, the One who made us and to whom we belong. We are in His care, shepherded by His strong hand, and His faithful love for us endures forever. God’s constancy is a reason for praise. With our hands and hearts open before Him, let’s enter into His presence singing songs of His faithfulness.

God, help us to remember the times You’ve walked with us and how You haven’t changed in the midst of all the changes happening around us. Fill us with Your joy. Amen.

We’d love to know — what’s your favorite Psalm?

 

The Still, Small, Wild Voice of the Lord

by

Many, many years ago now, my husband and I followed what felt like a wild call from God. We left our steady jobs in the suburbs and moved to the plains of the Midwest to live and work at a Bible camp.

We had always been in and loved the work of ministry. We were a couple of young church enthusiasts, both of us former youth and camp program directors with degrees in family and youth ministry. When we learned  a camp (one with which we had a history) was hiring two people for program work, we jumped to apply. When we drove away from the interview, my husband was confident that this was our next calling.

I was a little less convinced but excited nonetheless. We’d only been married a couple of years, and this was a major move away from family and friends for both of us. But it was for work we were passionate about, and there was something romantic about living on the windy prairie for Jesus.

Our community, friends, and even our parents were surprised but not shocked. They knew our hearts, and they helped us pack. They thought it was a bit of a wild decision, but trusted us and the God who they knew led our way. We felt certain we were hearing the still, small voice of His leading.

And so, we packed up our whole life into a big U-Haul, drove ten hours west, and jumped in with both feet. We were excited to start this new stage in our life, and fully expected to live into it for quite some time. The camp provided housing, so we decorated the most adorable little house on the prairie. We met some people in the community, and I fell in love with the local coffee shop/antique store downtown. We were in the winter festival parade, loved getting to know groups who stayed at camp, and our families came to visit.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t weep when my mom drove away after her first visit. Because underneath the work I truly loved, I was miserable.

I cried a lot. I found myself unmotivated to do much of anything. This was before texting was a thing, so I spent evenings glued to the desktop computer in the office, following Twitter and reading blogs. The only friends I had lived behind that screen; due to the nature of the jobs we held, we weren’t really able to make many friends near camp. I was terribly lonely; even the new puppy we’d gotten to help, well, didn’t.

The cherry on top of the sadness sundae was that we were also experiencing infertility. To be so alone, both physically and emotionally, was simply too much.

Less than a year after we pulled onto the long dirt road to camp, we drove the truck back out and returned to the very city we’d just left.

It would be an understatement to say people thought, at that time, that we were making a mistake. People were hurt, confused, and angry that we left. I understand their reactions, I really do. But what they didn’t know or see were the daily tears, the aching heart, and the long winding road (proverbial and actual) to figure out where home was.

They also didn’t know that the very week we left, we’d driven that same long road frantically to the hospital in the middle of the night as I miscarried our first baby. I can hardly recall our months at that place without tears because it culminated with such devastation and pain.

As we drove out for the last time, I left some hopes and dreams along that road. Of a long and happy time spent in ministry there. Of an easy transition into parenting. Of making new friends and loving a new call.

I also dropped a few other things off along that road. Caring immensely about what others think. The need to explain and defend myself. Feeling like a failure for not “sticking it out,” and even feelings of failure for the miscarriage. I launched those all out the window and left them there among the stalks of prairie grass.

Because even as our life seemed to crumble, and didn’t make sense to anyone (including us), we heard and heeded the still, small, wild voice of the Lord.

“The Lord said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.’

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.”
1 Kings 19:11-13

We followed God’s whisper in, and we followed it right back out.

Sometimes it’s like that; a wild decision here, a seemingly scattered choice there. If you can look steadily beyond the shivering winds, the shattering earthquake, and the showy fire, God’s voice will ring clear and gentle. Throughout that year’s journey, through the pain and the loneliness, the fear and failures, the leaving and the leaving again… God remained.

He still does.

Maybe no one understands why your life looks the way it does. Maybe despite your faithfulness, things aren’t panning out as you’d expected, hoped, or planned. Maybe you’ve left a place, only to turn right around and return. Maybe you left a place and never did return.

But if you can hear the gentle whisper of the Lord, you’re never without a way home.

 

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