Make Scripture Part of Your Everyday

Make Scripture Part of Your Everyday

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Scripture — we need it every, single, day. Here at (in)courage, we love to share stories from our lives that have a gospel takeaway. That’s the basis of our articles, our podcasts, our books and Bible studies, and even our agenda planners. Scripture — and how we experience God’s Word in our lives — is the foundation of it all. We know you want your lives to be Scripture-based, and we want to help.

And friends! We also know your love for planners. We know you’re looking at your planner every day, using it for task organizing, to-do lists, meal plans, and even using it to connect with Jesus because our planners include Scripture on every page!

Did you know the (in)courage planner includes a Bible reading plan? Scripture on each monthly and weekly spread? Stickers reminding you to pray, and stickers you can write prayer requests on? All true, and all pointing you to the Lord each and every day.

And every month of the 2023-24 (in)courage Something New Agenda Planner features a story from (in)courage! You’ll get to read as one of our writers shares her heart for mercy, hope, wisdom, or peace… while always asking God to do something new. You can scan the QR code beside each excerpt or visit incourage.me/somethingnew to read the full devotions! But here, we’ll give you a sneak peek:

I call this to mind, and therefore I have hope: Because of the LORD’s faithful love, we do not perish, for His mercies never end. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness!
Lamentations 3:21-23 CSB

From Mary Carver: “If you’re afraid that you’ve missed your chance, that you’ve messed up too much, that you’ve wandered too far, that you’ve waited too long, know that God will never give up on you. He is here to give you another chance. Though the weeks and seasons and years come to an end, His mercies never do. Take heart. Our God is a God of second chances.”

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Over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.
Colossians 3:14-15 NIV

From Anjuli Paschall: “When someone doesn’t give or receive love the way you think they should, resist the temptation to believe they don’t love you. The easiest thing to do is to stop pouring out love. But don’t stop. There isn’t just one right way to love. There aren’t just five love languages but millions of ways we can love because we all have our own God-given love stories. We were each designed to love in our own way. I’m tempted to make love in a black-and-white way, but I’m learning it can be very fluid. It can bend, flex, and bleed different colors. Love requires wisdom.”

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Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.
Luke 6:36 ESV

From Dorina Lazo Gilmore-Young: “Through Jesus Christ, God displayed both mercy and justice. He sent His son to die on the cross as a substitute for you and me. He met us in our depravity with compassion, and His mercy continues to preserve us through the gifts of forgiveness and salvation. And as recipients of His mercy, we are called to emulate His mercy. Mercy is an invitation to align our hearts with the heart of God and to dignify those around us.”

This eighteen-month 2023-24 (in)courage agenda planner also provides the classic DaySpring planner features, including a durable laminated cover and tabs, a lay-flat design with continuous spiral, an interior pocket page, and generous space for noting your plans. Ooh, and we are giddy over the return of checkboxes on the weekly lined pages!

You will be inspired by the beautiful monthly art spreads, weekly verses, and inspirational devotions throughout. The notes section will help you write down quick thoughts to come back to, the pass-along prayer cards will encourage your heart (or the heart of a friend!), and again, there are even three pages of adorable stickers you can write on to help bring your planner some color and extra joy!

Plan out and walk through your days with this Scripture-based planner, knowing that when we include God’s Word even in the cracks of our day, He multiplies its goodness in our hearts and lives.

Pick up your (in)courage Something New Agenda planner today!

 

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

 

*Please note, the devotional excerpts from the planner that are included above were not included in the audio version. We apologize, and hope you will read and be blessed by them!

For the Times You Carry More Dread Than Delight

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I birthed my daughter twenty years ago today — exactly ten days before my own 29th birthday. I’ve always loved that May means celebration time for the Strong girls. May is also the month when I (finally!) shake winter from my hands and hem and wear short-sleeved shirts for multiple days in a row. In Colorado, May is the gateway to the magical time known as “summer without crawling critters and humidity.”  May means school vacation and the growth of new, good things.

I’ve always, always loved May. That is, until last year.

Let me just say, for various reasons, last May was partly just plain terrible. In fact, my husband and I coined it, “The May of Suck.” That’s not to say May didn’t hold some glorious highs, like our daughter’s high school graduation. That was perfectly wonderful — bittersweet but wonderful. Yet, after welcoming momentous highs into our lives, we couldn’t close the door fast enough before corresponding lows snuck in behind.

By and by, summer released a little pressure on the cooker that felt like life, thank God. Late August brought more bittersweet significance when we moved our baby to college. Saying goodbye to her meant saying hello to Empty Nest-dom (or as we call it, our Changing Nest).  Fall came and then winter with its frosty temps and our frosty wariness that while things weren’t as bad as May, life wouldn’t let up, either.

As this marble called earth rotates through May once again, I’m a little tender and bruised from the memories of last May. I’ve been walking through this month hunched over and holding my breath as I wait for the other shoe to drop. I’m desperate for a sign of redemption to show itself, like the green shoots of my lilies growing through our hard, rocky dirt.

May, my former favorite month, comes with more dread than delight this year. That not only saddens me, but it’s a draining, demoralizing way to carry on.

In Scripture, Psalm 53:5 says, “But there they are, overwhelmed with dread, where there was nothing to dread. God scattered the bones of those who attacked you; you put them to shame, for God despised them.”

Tim Keller writes in his book, The Songs of Jesus, how this passage is a message to believers about how God has defeated their enemies, so why dread what God has defeated? He goes on to say, “Dread is less specific than fear. It is an attitude that something is sure to go wrong, if it hasn’t already. Besides often being untrue, as the psalm says, it is an insult to our loving Savior, who will walk with us even if the worst does happen.”

I know this is true in my head, but I often act out of my heart’s unbelief.

During the Last Supper, Jesus tells His disciples to not let their hearts be troubled, which is extraordinary given what was coming. As I learned from Bible teacher, Andrew Hess, this is known as the greatest moment in Christian counseling. Dread filled that room because, for those present there, the circumstances were as bad as they could get. Yet, Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me.” (John 14:1). The key to having peace, regardless of circumstances? Believe in God and believe also in Jesus.

Trust that even in the worst of times, God is for you and Jesus walks with you.

Instead of succumbing to the sticky, wobbly state of dread, I started doing small things to reflect a foundation of faith — regardless of my feelings. I’m a big feeler by nature (Enneagram 2 here!), and while those feelings get a say in things, they don’t get to boss my life. So, last month, I looked ahead to May to see in what ways I could act in a manner that leaned towards the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen — that leaned towards trust in God’s goodness. For me, this looked like buying a new dress for an event I hoped to attend. It looked like purchasing flowers that would attest to the fact that God grows good things. It looked like the moment I felt dread bubbling up saying out loud, “I am trusting You, Lord Jesus, trusting only You.”

I still don’t know how this May will work out. Will it be better than last year? Lord willing, it will. Either way, I don’t need to act like it’s a foregone conclusion that it will be The May of Suck II. I can trust that God moves from a place of abundance, not scarcity. Because He’s brought me through 100% of yesterday’s troubles, I can trust He’ll do the same for any that may arise today and tomorrow.

Dread is a storm cloud that borrows imaginary trouble from tomorrow to prevent us from seeing God’s overturned cup of blessings today. We can choose to either spend our time with a face turned toward hope or planted in the mire of dread. Putting our faith in action is not a magic formula that ensures things will work out to our liking. Rather, it’s a tangible way to operate in the belief that God, our Waymaker, will make a way for you and me to get where we’re supposed to be . . . in the month of May and beyond.

 

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

Heart of Mercy Launch Party!

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We’re thrilled to tell you that our newest (in)courage Bible study, Create in Me a Heart of Mercy, is available TODAY! Cue the confetti! This Bible study completes the set of Create in Me a Heart of… studies. It features the real-life, going-first kind of stories you love from our (in)courage writers, and an in-depth yet accessible Scripture study — like the excerpt we’re sharing below, written by Dorina Lazo Gilmore-Young. Read on for a taste of Create in Me a Heart of Mercy:

And on the Sabbath day, we went outside the gate to the riverside, where we supposed there was a place of prayer, and we sat down and spoke to the women who had come together. One who heard us was a woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, who was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul. And after she was baptized, and her household as well, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come to my house and stay.” And she prevailed upon us.
Acts 16:13–15 (ESV)

Lydia’s story serves as an example of how the gospel was spreading to new areas and how God in His mercy calls people from all walks of life to build His kingdom. Paul is traveling throughout Macedonia, Achaia, and Asia at this point in his missionary journey. He meets Lydia down by the river in Philippi, a Roman colony in Macedonia.

Lydia was a businesswoman from the city of Thyatira, which was in the Roman province of Lydda in Asia Minor, and was known for its production of purple dye and dyed goods. We learn from the text that Lydia was a “dealer in purple cloth,” a product that was extremely expensive and was purchased only by royalty and people of wealth. In other words, Lydia had connections and resources.

With careful reading, we learn that Lydia worships and fears God but doesn’t know the full picture of the gospel. The passage tells us that “the Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul” (Acts 16:14). This detail shows the way God was actively working in this situation and how His mercy brings another daughter into His family. When Lydia hears Paul share the good news about Jesus—His death, resurrection, and forgiveness of sins — she becomes a true believer. In fact, she becomes the first recorded convert to Christianity in Europe.

Let’s lean into the text to see what Lydia does after she makes a decision to believe in Jesus: “After she was baptized, and her household as well” (Acts 16:15). Immediately after believing in Jesus, Lydia decides to get baptized. (After all, they were down by the river, so why not?!) Lydia then proceeds to lead her entire household—including her servants and any family members old enough to comprehend — to believe in Jesus Christ and get baptized as well. God’s mercy extends not just to Lydia but to her entire clan.

After sharing her newfound belief with those closest to her, Lydia then uses her gift of hospitality and invites Paul to stay with her. Her home eventually becomes the base of operations for the church in Philippi. She is a prime example of a woman who uses her gifts of hospitality, leadership, and influence for God’s glory.

Hospitality at its basic level is the generous and gracious treatment of guests, and it’s one way we can show the kindness of God to others. I love hosting Bible study groups, my daughter’s track and field team, friends passing through town, our mom’s prayer group from school, and our church life group. Making them feel welcome and cared for allows me to pass on the mercy God has shown me.

Food is my love language, and nourishing people well at my table is a gift. Whether it’s cooking up an Italian meal using my mama’s manicotti recipe or grilling burgers and veggies, it’s important to me that food is abundant and people feel welcome. Through food, I can make people feel special and loved in the same way God reminds me that I’m wonderfully made and completely adored.

Although it often involves opening one’s home, hospitality doesn’t have to look a certain way. You don’t have to serve up fancy food or have a big house. You can take food on the road and bless people by delivering meals after they have a new baby or when they are sick or have buried a loved one. Hospitality is our opportunity to respond to God’s mercy by offering kindness and tender care to others.

Lydia opened her heart to the gospel and her whole family received God’s mercy. She in turn opened her home to the Philippi community, and many others had a space to form and grow in their faith.

Hebrews 13:2 reminds us, “Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!” (NLT). Who can you extend hospitality to by inviting them into your home or out for a cup of coffee? Maybe God has given you a home that has a guest room or a bigger yard where you can host a Bible study. Perhaps hospitality looks like inviting someone to sit next to you in class or striking up a conversation with someone on the bus. Whatever it looks like for you, consider allowing God to open your heart through hospitality as His mercy overflows to those around you.

DEAR JESUS, I’m humbled by the way You extended mercy and hospitality to me through Your sacrifice on the cross. Thank You for welcoming me into Your family when I didn’t deserve it. I’m longing to show hospitality to others like Lydia did. Open my heart and the doors of opportunity. Amen.

by Dorina Lazo Gilmore-Young, excerpted from the BRAND NEW Create in Me a Heart of Mercy Bible Study

The Create in Me a Heart of Mercy Bible Study is the fourth and final in our series of these studies, and it’s now available wherever books are sold! (You’ll love all four studies, but you don’t have to do them in any particular order! So feel free to jump right in with Heart of Mercy.)

And what would a launch day celebration be without a giveaway?!

To celebrate the release of Create in Me a Heart of Mercy, we’re giving away FIVE HUGE gift bundles!* Just leave a comment on this post telling us where you have seen mercy in your life recently and you’ll be entered to win a bundle that includes:

We’re thrilled that this Bible study is able to be in your hands. Get your copy and learn what God says about mercy. Sign up here and we’ll send you the first whole week of Create in Me a Heart of Mercy for FREE so you can start right away!

Let’s seek hearts of mercy — together. 

Join Becky Keife for a conversation with Dorina this weekend on the (in)courage podcast. AND stay tuned for details about our summer Online Bible Study featuring (you guessed it) Create in Me a Heart of Mercy. Don’t miss it!

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

When You Can’t Get Away

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Last week I watched a trailer for a new documentary series coming out soon. As I listened to the narrator explain how he hoped traveling around the world would help him finally find happiness, I tilted my head and squinted my eyes. Why was this so familiar? I wondered. I watch a lot of trailers and consume a lot of content about pop culture in general, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t heard of this show before.

Later, as I watched a different TV show about a couple going on a journey to find happiness, it hit me. The series being promoted in that trailer was new to me, but the concept was not. So many of our stories — both the ones we see in movies, television, and books and the ones we tell ourselves about our own lives — center around happiness only discovered by leaving home.

Don’t get me wrong. I love traveling and believe it can be educational, refreshing, and even transformative. I’ve heard from and connected with God many times during trips outside my town, my state, and my comfort zone. And sometimes I feel such an intense desire to get away, to be anywhere but here, that rather than drive straight home after work or errands or dropping my kids off at their schools, I take a detour and keep on driving for just a little bit longer.

But sometimes we can’t get away. We can’t escape the confusing or crushing or simply mundane. Sometimes our budgets or our responsibilities keep us at home. Meanwhile, the world seems to keep its most wonder-full experiences for anywhere but here. Sometimes we desperately need a break. We deeply crave a change of pace, and we ache for adventure or long for lounge chairs by the pool — but we don’t have vacation days or childcare or gas money. Sometimes we’re stuck at home because we can’t find a travel companion or the courage to go on our own. Sometimes we’re busy or we’re sick.

Sometimes we can’t get away.

So what then? Are we to assume that happiness is out of reach? Are we to accept our existence is somehow less than because we can’t travel the world like a rich actor or escape to a magical land like a movie character?

Obviously not.

Although, when I get that urge to run away from home — for an hour, for a day, for the rest of my life — this doesn’t seem so obvious. When I spend my time and energy looking outside and elsewhere for what I need, I can miss what’s possible, what might already be happening right here and now.

Last month I was supposed to go on a retreat with my fellow (in)courage writers. After a challenging and exhausting season, I was so ready to soak up every minute of beautiful scenery, delicious food, and nobody needing a thing from me for a few days. And, of course, I was nearly giddy with excitement to see my beloved friends who live annoyingly far away from my house. I fully anticipated connecting with them and with God as my cup overflowed with joy and gratitude once again. But then I got sick.

And did I immediately take a deep breath, look for the blessings in my broken plans, and thank God for . . . anything? Did I remember in that moment (or that entire weekend) that joy can be found wherever God is, and God is everywhere? Did I seek out ways to connect with Him and let Him renew my hope and fill up my cup right there in my bedroom or my backyard?

No, friends, I did not.

At least, not immediately. Because I’d gotten caught up in the idea that happiness was a plane ride away, that distance was the only solution for a lack of clarity, and that peace was only possible with solitude and silence and a complete break from my responsibilities.

Thankfully, God knows I watch many TV shows and He kindly connected the dots for me with real and fictional characters forgetting that life happens wherever we are. And with that, He reminded me that He offers us joy and hope and peace and purpose wherever we are, no matter how boring or stressful or hard. The Lord gently pointed me back to the truth that happiness isn’t out there.

Instead, joy is found in Him, right here.

“I know the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me.
No wonder my heart is glad, and I rejoice.”
Psalm 16:8-9a

Getting away is a gift and can be a way for God to bless us or speak to us in a new way. But it’s not the only way for us to experience joy, to learn or grow, to be okay. Sometimes we can’t get away, and when that happens, we can remember that God—and all the joy, hope, peace, and love He offers us freely—is right here.

If you’re feeling weary or worried and wishing for a break, an escape, a way to get away, remember that no matter where you are, God is right there with you. He’s with us in our regular, everyday lives, offering fresh mercies and another step on the path He’s made for us. On the beach or on the phone with the doctor’s office, in a luxurious hotel or in traffic, taking in the sights or taking the kids to school — wherever we are, so is God. And where God is, so is our joy.

 

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

When God Is in the Way of What You Want

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My husband stuck his phone under my nose, as I wearily entered the kitchen.

“Look what I caught outside,” he said. My moist eyes glanced down at the ribbons of green streaming across his photo of the sky.

I bundled up as quickly as I could against the cold that was about to accost me, eager to stand under the cover of the Northern Lights as they flowed above our house. A reminder to look up as I inwardly processed my daughter’s lingering grief.

I don’t know what to do with the struggle that comes after obedience. There are no easy answers to the fall-out of transition. Especially for those that don’t have a choice in the matter — like my kids.

A few minutes before I ended up outside, chasing rivers of light, I sat at my daughter’s bedside. And, like I’ve done many times before, I rubbed her back as she cried about the place that she missed.

We’ve lived in Iceland for over four years, with ebbs and flows of homesickness. My daughter’s recent melancholy was triggered by conversations with new friends over dinner. We shared the testimony of our journey with Jesus, of how the Lord provided for us in amazing ways. But as my daughter vocalized her heartache later that night, I realized that her struggle wasn’t one I could easily fix. God was in the way, because God was the one who had set the course before us.

In these times, I want to give her a boxed up answer — tied in a pretty bow — that will instantly take away her discomfort. I want to buy the plane ticket and fly her to where she wants to go and relieve the burden of her ache. But it is not a foe that we are fighting. It’s not even a wrong that needs to be made right. We are here in this country that we really adore because we are doing our best to walk in obedience.

These instances cannot be passed by so easily, because God oftentimes is in the way of what we think we want. But there is invitation to engage with the Lord as He steps into where we are. He’s fully aware of our grief and the limitations of our understanding, but He offers us the opportunity to know Him in a way that we wouldn’t otherwise.

All throughout scripture, we see the stories of those who had God burst in on their paths: 

These were spectacular displays of God interrupting the lives of His people. And, like our brothers and sisters of old, God has set us on the path to something more. Maybe higher than we can understand or comprehend. But always better.

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. 
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. 
Psalm 139:5-6 (NIV) 

In the moments when He hems me in, I’m unable to appease the ache of my children with simple answers. But I can show them, through my own grasping, what it means to cling to Jesus. I can guide their hands not to material things, but to grab ahold of the hand placed upon them.  

As I tuck my daughter in at night, I pray she will experience the Holy Spirit as her comforter. Even though I’m afraid she’ll blame God, I want to hold her hand as she encounters Him. I want her to know that even in this moment, it may not be comfortable, but she is covered.

When I looked up at the sky above me that night, it felt like the sweetest kiss of color and light. I lifted my hands and whispered prayers into the ridiculous cold as I watched sun particles bursting through the atmosphere — interrupting the inky darkness with a dazzling display.

It was a reminder of what it looks like for God to be in our way — to be invited to seek out not what is easy, but what is higher, deeper, wider than we can comprehend. 

We surrender what we want…for everything that is His.  

And we trust that it will be glorious. 

However You Feel About Mother’s Day . . .

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She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
Proverbs 31:25-26

We know this day is a complex one full of many emotions and experiences, so we are praying for each of you today as you remember, celebrate, grieve, or enjoy motherhood and what that means to you. Every single woman who loves, encourages, nurtures, and releases those who become part of the next generation is doing an amazing work and is to be celebrated today.

Happy Mother’s Day. Thank you for all that you are and all that you do.

 

The Beauty of a Do-Over and Loving Your Mother-in-Law

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I was in my early thirties, established in my career, and comfortable in my skin, but I was still nervous when the time came to meet my future mother-in-law. Would she like me as a person, approve of me as a daughter-in-law, and accept me into the family, even with my bad-girl past?

Our first meeting was cordial, and she always made me welcome in her home. But as each year went by, I became less certain of my place in her heart and held her at arm’s length emotionally. Yes, I dutifully sent flowers each Mother’s Day, made her favorite dish for Thanksgiving, and showered her with presents at Christmas. But whether it was pride, anxiety, or insecurity, something kept me from building a nest for her in my heart.

Then I studied the book of Ruth. Undone by the loving-kindness Ruth showed her mother-in-law, Naomi, I realized something had to change in my life — and that something was me.

A phone call to my mother-in-law seemed the place to begin. My hand shook as I punched in the numbers. I had no real plan, trusting God to give me the words to say: I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Can we begin again?

When my mother-in-law answered the phone, an overwhelming sense of peace washed over me. Whatever fears I’d harbored — of rejection, of losing her as I’d lost my own mother, of not measuring up — were gone. Nothing was left but love.

The next time we visited my in-law’s house, I wrapped my arms around her and gave her my first real hug. Our last five years together were sweeter than all the years that came before then, combined. I have Ruth the Moabitess to thank for that, and the Lord she vowed to follow.

When Naomi started for home after ten years in the far country of Moab, she urged her two daughters-in-law, Orpah and Ruth, to return to Moab and to their gods. Orpah was convinced; Ruth was not. She told Naomi, “Don’t plead with me to abandon you or to return and not follow you. For wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you live, I will live; your people will be my people, and your God will be my God” (Ruth 1:16).

Ruth was determined not to go back to her false gods. We can’t say for sure, but sometimes I wonder if the Spirit of God moved through Ruth like living water in that moment — cleansing her, filling her, making her altogether new. One thing we can know is that Ruth wasn’t merely making a choice to follow her mother-in-law. Her decision included a commitment to the Lord Himself, the God of the Israelites.

God alone ordained and orchestrated this sacred moment. Ruth’s great-grandson would one day write, “The counsel of the Lord stands forever, the plans of his heart from generation to generation” (Psalm 33:11). Naomi and Ruth are woven into those plans. So are you, beloved. Long before Naomi and Ruth walked the earth, God’s plans for you were already in place.

Before Naomi could respond that day, Ruth made a bold vow: “For wherever you go, I will go.” More than one dewy-eyed bride has repeated Ruth’s words while gazing into her bridegroom’s handsome face. But Ruth wasn’t talking to or about a man. She was speaking to and about her mother-in-law, who by all appearances didn’t want her daughter-in-law along for the ride.

Ruth’s second vow is equally powerful: “…and wherever you live, I will live”. She’d never been to Bethlehem, yet seemed to care little about where she was going, as long as she was with Naomi. She continued, “Your people will be my people.” It’s one thing to leave your house and quite another to leave your country. Ruth promised to adopt the laws, traditions, dialect, foods, customs, folklore, and history of Israel, turning her back on the only life she knew and embracing a world she had yet to experience.

We’ve seen Ruth’s courage and commitment on display. Next comes her extraordinary leap of faith: “And your God will be my God.” Over the years, Naomi had plenty of time to teach her daughter-in-law about the covenant with Abraham and the exodus with Moses. She’d also had countless Sabbaths to show Ruth what a life devoted to the one true God looked like. Yet, in the end, it was God at work in Ruth’s heart that made her confession of faith possible.

If you have a mother-in-law, Ruth’s brave example shows how you can strengthen or rebuild your one-of-a-kind relationship. Perhaps some of these practical ideas might help:

  • Praise her good points. Just as you may wonder if your mother-in-law likes you, she may think you don’t like her. So, praise her every chance you get and help put her unspoken fears to rest.
  • Brag about her son. At any age, mothers long to know they did a good job. Sincerely compliment your husband’s fine character or commendable actions, then watch his mother light up.
  • Request a favorite recipe. Gourmet or otherwise, her home-cooked meals fed your growing husband. Find out his favorite dish and ask his mother to share the recipe.
  • Give thanks. Show your gratitude for the woman who raised the man you love. She wasn’t a perfect mother, but she was his mother. She still is, and always will be.

As relationships go, this one can be complicated, which means it also has the potential to go deep and wide. Open your heart, friend. Let her in.

Story by Liz Curtis Higgs, as featured in A Mother’s Love.

Above is an excerpt from our book, A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom, which is full of reflections on God’s heart. Featuring unique and diverse stories from the (in)courage community, A Mother’s Love offers heartfelt encouragement to all kinds of moms, whether they’re a mother in a traditional sense, a spiritual mother, or a mother-like figure who breaks the mold.

This book is sure to help any woman share a meaningful gift with someone who has been impactful in her life, a new mom learning the ropes, or a close loved one facing the joys and challenges of any stage and type of motherhood. Compiled with all women in mind so we can celebrate those who made us, shaped us, helped us grow, and loved us well, A Mother’s Love is a beautiful gift for the moms in your life.

 

When Prayer Gets Personal

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I’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights. When I booked a trip to Iceland with some friends, I began praying about seeing the panoramic polar display. I know – kind of a silly thing to pray for. Except I keep believing God cares about even the simplest desires of our hearts. 

We were in Iceland for nine days, and each morning I checked the aurora borealis tracker online. The cloudier the weather, the less chance of seeing the lights. Each evening was cloudy. I was disappointed but not discouraged; Iceland has more eye candy than any place I’d seen on Earth. Nonetheless, I kept asking God to make a way. 

A few days before our flight home, the clouds parted. The night was clear. The stars glittered like diamonds and the moon shone so bright it felt like a spotlight. And then, my friend rushed into the hostel and said, “Quick, come outside! You have to see this!” 

I grabbed my coat and boots and rounded the corner. Suddenly, I saw something: green light, dancing in the sky. Tears pricked my eyes. There they were: the Northern Lights, swaying and swirling in front of me.

I felt so small, and yet so seen. God – who created those very lights – had uncovered the clouds so I could see them.

It was such a silly, small, little thing. That trip contained more beauty than I knew what to do with. I didn’t need the Northern Lights, yet it was such a personal gift from Jesus.

When we invite Jesus into every detail of our lives, prayer can get personal. A lot of the time we think prayer is boring, routine, and ritualistic. But Jesus invites us into a life of prayerful adventure — one where we walk with Him, like a child on a hike with her father, asking questions, and listening to His gentle guidance. 

Jesus made bold promises to His disciples about prayer: “If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer” (Matthew 21:22). We can often mistreat Jesus’ invitations into prayer by misinterpreting God as a genie or Santa Claus. The biblical concepts can get lost in translation, and we can feel disappointed, discouraged, and rejected by God when we don’t get what we want. 

But Jesus lived a life of personal prayer. He would’ve talked to His Father about everything — from turning water into wine to asking God to consider preventing the suffering Jesus would endure on the cross. There was nothing off-limits between Jesus and His Father. 

There’s nothing off-limits when it comes to you and God either. Prayer isn’t meant to be boring, but personal.

This year, I found a new way to pray. I began keeping a point-form list of prayer requests in the very back of my journal. I write down a request, and then I pray and pray and pray until God answers it. Once I see the answer, I uncap my fluorescent highlighter and press the ink upon the page, highlighting the answered prayer. 

My journal is filled with prayers – and even in the few months since 2023 began, many highlights. 

Every time I highlight, I’m reminded of how God answers our prayers, and of how personal and tender God is toward us. 

It’s a startling thing to be reminded of, isn’t it? That the God who formed the universe with a word, who breathed life into your lungs and mine, who holds everything together, listens to our prayers and answers them. 

Tell Jesus everything. Ask Him to give you a life of prayerful adventure. Then just watch as your prayer life starts to get personal.

 

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The Same, Yet Different

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When Adam and Eve realized they were naked, they became acutely aware of their physical differences, and instead of celebrating God’s image in each of them, they felt shame. Their shame pushed them to conceal their differences, and they sewed fig leaves for clothes. This played out the narrative Satan had set forth — that maybe God was holding out on them and didn’t have their best interests in mind.

They learned to cover, to hide, and to see their differences as a means of separation, oppression, and shame. Suddenly, as a result of their disobedience, there was a hierarchy and a power struggle at work, and what was intended for good, beauty, and celebration was broken. And now, any time we reject a part of ourselves that makes us distinct — including our ethnic and cultural identity — it’s all part of this ongoing brokenness.

By thirteen, I’d learned to believe the lie whispered in my ear like the one the sly serpent told Eve and all the daughters after her: that to belong I would have to get rid of everything that kept me from blending in and hide all that colored me in as the full version of myself. I’d already learned to question the way I was made and whether the one who made me had good intentions in mind.

I believed that cultural assimilation would give me a way to belong and move through life with less shame, but instead of offering me belonging, it only isolated me further. My fig leaves not only separated me from my classmates and from true friendship, but they also distanced me from my family and all the things I knew as home.

When I was a child, my family made three trips to Korea. From the moment we set foot in the country, people stared at my sister and me with wide eyes. We were Korean blemishes, evidence of unrequited national love, honyol daughters in the motherland where pure bloodlines are sought after and protected at all costs.

How can I feel at home and foreign at the same time? I wondered.

On my first trip to Korea when I was seven, my parents and I went to a dinner party with my mom’s extended family and their friends. I was sitting in the front room with my cousins and a bunch of kids I didn’t know. One of the boys kept pointing at me. He was taller than I was, with smooth black hair cut like a bowl around his head.

When we all went outside to play, he poked me with a toothpick. I stared at him, then at the toothpick, too stunned and confused to understand why he’d do something like that. Everyone else was laughing, especially the boy with the secret toothpick. I tried to stay away from him, on the other side of the group of kids. My stomach turned when our eyes met.

I went inside to see my parents, but they were drinking and laughing, enjoying the other adults. I didn’t say what was wrong but stood quietly, wondering which adults were the toothpick boy’s parents.

“It’s boring for you in here,” my mom whispered. “Go back and play with other kids.”

I went back outside, and we all stayed there until it was dark. Every chance he got, the boy poked me hard — in the arm, in the back, in the neck, in my thigh — while I listened to the adults inside laughing.

When we left, I was so relieved I immediately fell asleep in the car. I never told my parents. Somehow, even as a first grader, I decided I was to carry the world of my mom’s loss, and both the worlds that couldn’t welcome me, in my tiny elementary-school body. I wanted to stay in Korea forever, and I also wanted to leave for fear of more round-faced boys who would poke my mixed skin with a dirty toothpick to remind me that I don’t belong.

Our story as sons of Adam and daughters of Eve isn’t just one of knowing God separate from our humanity and our own God-made bodies. God intends for us to know Him as we come to know ourselves. Our unique selves are to be studied, seen, uncovered, and sought with urgency. Knowing ourselves without shame is shalom in action — life unfolding the way it was meant to, the narrative of the Kingdom of God-come-down. In the midst of this, God’s dreams come true, unfolding detail by detail in our mothers’ wombs.

When God calls out to Eve and Adam after they’ve eaten from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, He asks them, “Where are you?” Even though He knows where they are, what they’ve done, and what the consequences will be, He seeks them out in their hiding.

He does this again and again. When Cain hides after murdering his brother, God finds him and asks him where his brother is. When Hagar runs from her oppressive life, He asks her where she’s come from and where she’s going.

God’s love will not let us go on hiding forever. His love finds us, stops for us, and searches for those who have been harmed and those who need healing.

And whenever we come near to someone else in hiding, we imitate Jesus, our Immanuel: the God who comes near.

Adapted from Tell Me the Dream Again: Reflections on Family, Ethnicity, and the Sacred Work of Belonging, by Tasha Jun. Copyright © 2023. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, a Division of Tyndale House Ministries. All rights reserved.

—

Told with tender honesty and compelling prose, Tell Me the Dream Again: Reflections on Family, Ethnicity, and the Sacred Work of Belonging, by Tasha Jun is a memoir-in-essays exploring:

  • what it means to be biracial in America today
  • the joy and healing that comes with embracing every part of who we are, and
  • how our identity in Christ is tightly woven with the unique colors, scents, and culture he’s given us.

We are not outsiders to God. When we let all the details of ourselves unfold ― when we embrace who we were divinely knit together to be ― this is when we’ll fully experience his perfect love.

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

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

 

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 5/14/23. Winners will be drawn at random and notified via email. Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery.

How a Surprise Birthday Party Taught Me About the Sweetness of God

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I felt the weight of 2023 as soon as I flipped the calendar; just 89 days to a major milestone birthday. An inescapable and irritating dread dampened my usual sunny disposition. To me, birthdays have always been the perfect excuse to celebrate with much ado. But this year felt different. I was entering a new decade that some would consider old, and as a person who has always declared, “Age is just a number!” that number was cruelly taunting me, making me feel ancient and irrelevant.

I snapped out of it when I realized I was acting like a victim of my age. I remembered what I had learned when I wrestled with aging not so long ago:

We are not victims of our age, and age is the price we pay for life and it’s a privilege not everyone has.

So, doggone it, party on! My husband was also turning 60 in March, so it seemed important to make it memorable.

But then came January 5th… and my world was rocked to the core.

Doctors discovered a mass in my sister’s brain that would require more testing to diagnose. By the end of the month, our worst fear was confirmed: brain cancer.

What was there to celebrate when my “ride or die” was facing a terrifying future, and the long life she imagined would be cut short?

Meanwhile, another storm was brewing.

My husband’s company had been sold last year, and one by one, his former leadership team shrank due to job elimination, forced early retirement, or leaving to find something more secure and less volatile. He began exploring different job opportunities himself as the climate became increasingly untenable, but on February 24th the decision was made for him. His position was eliminated.

Interestingly, we had plans that night to have dinner with four close friends and their husbands. It had been over a year since we’d gotten together as couples, and Courtney had invited us to her home six weeks in advance. Even though we viewed Tad’s job elimination as a good thing in many ways — he was fortunate to receive a severance package — it was still a hard thing, and we weren’t emotionally up for a couple’s night.

Not ready to disclose what had happened that afternoon, I texted my friends to let them know we had had an intense day and wouldn’t be able to make it. They weren’t having it. They texted back insisting, “You still have to eat!” Privately, another friend texted Tad and let him know they were doing a little something for my birthday … over a month early to surprise me.

He immediately spilled the beans because he knew we would have to show up and make the best of it. Though we didn’t know exactly what to expect, our suspicions spiked when we passed Courtney’s neighbor’s house and her yard was full of cars. Whatever they had planned was more than a few friends.

I apologized to Tad as we walked to her front door, feeling awful that something spectacular was planned for me, when his birthday was the following week, and, he had just lost his job.

Before we could knock, the double doors opened to reveal our two sons standing there grinning and a mob yelling, “Surprise!” Then our daughter (who lives a plane ride away) appeared from behind the door. I turned my back to the crowd, an instant, sobbing mess. I hugged Tad and whispered, “I’m so…sorry…” imagining how hard the next few hours were going to be for him.

“Turn around! See who’s here!” someone yelled. It was only then my brain finally caught up to what was happening. This was a surprise party for both of us.

Everywhere we looked we saw people we loved: our church family, my and Tad’s brothers, and life-long friends from all over. Then I spotted my sweet father-in-love . . . and my sister. I lost it all over again. She hadn’t even fully recovered from her biopsy surgery.

As the night unfolded, we learned that this party wasn’t cooked up by my friends. Rather, our children had been conspiring since Christmas to celebrate both me and Tad. February 24th had been the only day that worked out for our three kids and my four friends who helped them plan.

Our children’s concern that no one would be able to make it on a Friday night was unwarranted; people showed up en masse. Though they missed a few friends we would’ve included, we were amazed by how well they did. Every single person there was already praying for my sister, and this was an opportunity to meet her if they didn’t already know her.

Tad and I caught up with people we’ve loved as long as we can remember, and when we bumped into each other he whispered, “God sure has a sense of humor.” I laughed and agreed. Driving home later, Tad expressed what I had been thinking, “A night like tonight puts what happened with my job in perspective. It sure seems small in comparison.”

I fell into bed happy and exhausted, my mind reeling from our roller-coaster day. As my heart settled, I was completely and utterly overwhelmed by love. Not from the love of our family and friends – though that was palpable – but from God.

At Christmas, when our children had the bright idea to throw us a surprise party, they had no idea what the new year would bring.

But God knew.

When seven people selected a date that was the only one that worked for each of them, they couldn’t have known what that specific day would mean to us.

But God knew.

God knew about Lora’s brain tumor and Tad’s job loss and all the uncertainty, sorrow, and brokenness we were carrying. What I saw so clearly at that moment was how the story of our lives tells the grander story of God’s greatness. This is true for all of us, isn’t it? My children and friends thought they were just planning a surprise party, but the God who knows the end from the beginning and the beginning from the end knew what would happen in our lives leading up to February 24, 2023, and He put together a gift so spectacular no one could deny who it was from.

God knew that we were weary and burdened and He gave us the kind of rest we desperately needed (see Matthew 11:28-29). God is still writing your story and He knows the kind of rest you need, too. You can come to Him and trust Him.

 

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What Would It Take to Get This Honest With God?

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Here’s what I think we all need:

Our own little confession booths – places where we can get ruthlessly honest with God, and with ourselves. Places where we can bare our souls, stop self-protecting, and say the things that other people might find outlandish or outrageous.

In theory, we know God can handle that kind of honesty. In theory, we understand that we really do have our own little confession booths – and those booths are open 24/7, wherever we are.

But honestly? We don’t always practice stepping inside and getting real with God.

Ask me how I know.

Candidly, I have a long history of keeping secrets from God, which I realize is the single-most ridiculous statement ever written in the history of (in)courage. One does not keep secrets from God. (But one does try, from time to time.)

Case in point: Many years ago, I attended a weekend women’s retreat. One evening, a pastor handed each of us a tiny piece of paper. On that paper, we were supposed to write down everything we could think of that was holding us back from God.

As songs played in the background, a lengthy list ran flipbook-style in my brain.

Shame.
Guilt.
Sin after sin.
Burden after burden.

Good grief, I thought to myself, I need more than this tiny piece of paper. I need one of those giant rolls of butcher paper!

But even though I had a mile of confessions running through my head, I was unwilling to write them all down on paper.

We had been assured that no one would read our papers. In fact, they would be burned. So, I wasn’t afraid of people seeing my sin. I was afraid of being honest with God. Furthermore, I didn’t want to face the weight of my burdens by seeing them written out. The result: I left a bunch of stuff off of my paper, and in some cases, I was only half-honest with Him, because I wouldn’t write whole words; I wrote initials to represent my sin. I was refusing to tell God the truth.

At the time, I didn’t know if God could really love me in my failure. I thought He could only love the good in me.

That, of course, is anti-Gospel. How could I so easily forget that it’s because of my sin that Christ died? He loves me (and you!) that much.

You can hardly turn a page of the New Testament without encountering God’s arms-wide-open love toward us. “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

Jesus’ life demonstrated that perfect love. He cleansed people, not only of their sins but of their hurts and hang-ups. With the people He healed, Jesus often started by asking the person in front of Him a provocative, direct question – a way of saying, “Step into the confession booth.”

Think for a moment about some of the questions Jesus asked.

“Do you want to get well?” (John 5:6)

“Why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14:31)

“Do you still not see or understand?” (Mark 8:17)

“What do you want me to do for you?” (Luke 18:41)

If Jesus invited you into your own little confession booth today – just you and Him – and He asked you those questions, how would you answer?

When I think about my most honest answers, I am moved to tears. And those tears, I’m learning, are so very good, so very healing.

In the years since that retreat, I’ve learned that full honesty takes a special kind of courage, and ultimately, it holds a special kind of power. It’s a form of intimacy with yourself — and with God.

You don’t have to run into a little booth to tell your stuff to God. You can tell Him right now, right where you are. As it says in Hebrews 4:16, “Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

So, friend, write it all down. (Not just the initials.) Or speak it out loud. I call it “courageous honesty, obsessive truth-telling, and beautifully ruthless self-discovery.”

May you find that you don’t have to shine yourself up when you come before God. You just need to show up.

—

Are you feeling the urge to get honest before God, but don’t know where to start? Jennifer’s got you covered. She’s written Stuff I’d Only Tell God: A Guided Journal of Courageous Honesty, Obsessive Truth-Telling, and Beautifully Ruthless Self-Discovery. She describes the journal as “your own little confession booth.” Inside, you’ll find daring questions – including a list of questions Jesus asked. You’ll also find provocative lists, quirky charts, and thought-provoking prompts. This journal is a place to record ideas, beliefs, secrets, memories, wonderings, and wishes – things that might seem outlandish or outrageous to anyone else but are what make you you.

Order your copy today!

Below are three prompts from the thousands inside Stuff I’d Only Tell God. Answer one (or more, if you wish!) in the comments for a chance to WIN one of five copies of the journal*.

Option 1: My life is valuable because:

Option 2: If a toy manufacturer were to make an action figure of you, these are the three accessories it would come with:

Option 3: If I could ask God one question, this is what I’d ask:

We can’t wait to read your answers! Also, join Becky this weekend on the (in)courage podcast for a conversation with Jennifer about Stuff I’d Only Tell God!

 

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*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm central on 5/15/23. Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery.

To Love Is to Listen

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She walked in late to her physical therapy appointment, quickly apologizing, “I’m sorry, I’m having a rough day.” I leaned in and patted her on the shoulder as we walked towards the bike for her warm-up exercise. Assuming her back pain had flared up I asked her, “What’s going on?” She got on the bike and began to pedal as she told me that she had lost her mom recently, and today the grief was overwhelming. Throughout the session, she continued to share stories about her mom. I could tell that she loved her mom and they had a great relationship. Her mom lived a full life until she suddenly fell sick and passed.

Usually, I would have said some old Christian-ese phrase that we often say to those grieving the loss of a loved one like, “Well, she’s in a better place.” But the Holy Spirit gave me new words to speak over this woman: “I can tell you miss your mom and it probably feels unfair to have your best friend taken away.”

She suddenly looked up at me, reached for my hand, took it into hers, and her eyes began to well up. She said, “Thank you for saying that … everyone just keeps saying she’s in a better place and I’m tired of hearing that because I just want my mom here with me.”

In that moment I knew the Holy Spirit spoke through me because I chose to listen to this woman — not just to her words but to her pain. I think often, we as Christians are quick to slap a cliche statement over someone’s pain because we’re not really listening to them. Listening to someone unload their burden makes it heavy and uncomfortable for us, so selfishly we want to soothe them quickly, like sticking a pacifier in the mouth of a crying baby. But their pain needs a place to land.

Galatians 6: 2 teaches us to, “Bear one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.” And the most practical way to live this out is through listening. We cannot save people or change their circumstances, but we can listen. If we are honest when we share our issues and pain with someone, we understand their limitations but we share anyway because we just need someone to listen.

I think one of the reasons people were drawn to Jesus was because He was a good listener. Jesus didn’t just teach and disciple people. He didn’t just touch and deliver people. So often Jesus gave people an opportunity to share their pain and put words to their wounds. He listened.

When blind Bartimaeus cried out, everyone tried to silence him. “Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet” Mark 10:48. The Bible tells us when He hears this blind beggar’s cry, Jesus stops. He listens. Can you imagine the Creator of time and space, the Alpha and Omega, standing still because of the cry of a man who lived on the side of the road?

The day Jesus meets the Samaritan woman He arrives at the well early. Jesus is waiting for her to get there and invites her into a conversation. In fact, this is the longest conversation recorded in the Bible that Jesus has — with this woman who had a wounded past. She walked at noon to that well alone as she always had because no one wanted to be associated with her; everyone in town knew her scandalous story. But Jesus, the Sovereign One, still sits, waiting to listen to her.

Jesus doesn’t spiritualize our pain or sweep it under the rug. He wants us to say it out loud to Him because He is the Savior and He has shared in our sufferings and empathizes with our deepest wounds. People wanted to be close to Jesus not just because He was a good teacher, but because He made space to listen to them. It amazes me that the God of the universe came to this world as a man to walk with us, talk with us, and listen to us.

Friend, Jesus wants to hear you.

I also pray that in our love for others, we would be quick to listen like Jesus, and that we would be people who make space for others to bring their wounds and words so that their burden feels just a little lighter. Let’s not silence people with our quick sticky statements or distance ourselves from them because their pain is too much.

It is true that we are the hands and feet of Jesus to go and do His work, but we are also the ears of Jesus to stop, wait, and listen.

 

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Good and Beautiful Things: No Suffering Required

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Our driver picks us up at three in the morning.

The travel agent assured us that the early wake-up call would be worth it . . . and the website promised a sky blanketed in soft clouds and a sunrise “bursting forth in a flood of warmth and color.” So I find myself heading up a volcano at a time I’m usually only snoring.

Our bus driver warns everyone that it can be cold and windy at the top. I packed a blanket and a sweatshirt and made the mistake of thinking I was prepared.

He tells us that we need to get there early to beat the rush of tourists and claim a front row seat to the sunrise. Haleakala means “House of the Sun” and, according to legend, the demigod, Maui, set out to lasso the sun in an effort to slow it down. I don’t believe in demigods, but I head up over 10,000 feet in the dark to capture the sun myself and for a glimpse of God’s beauty. 

We wind our way up the summit . . . and I’m temporarily glad for the black night so that I cannot see the steep drops. Hours later — still cloaked in darkness — we finally summit. We’re told where to stand for the best view and reminded to have our cameras ready. Sunrise is thirty minutes out as we stumble off the bus into the black. At this altitude, wind whips through my blanket and sleet pelts my face. My friends climb right back on the bus and I follow them. I was prepared for it to be cool, but not this cold. This is Hawaii, after all. I packed a suitcase full of sundresses, not a winter coat. 

I warm under the heater and tell myself that I did not get up at three in the morning to sit on a bus, so I bundle up and venture out again. This time, I walk alone and find only a few people clumped around the crater’s edge. My hair flies in my face, the wind blows straight through my layers, and I can’t feel my fingers or toes. The crowd is small and there is no need to fight anyone for a good view. Shivering at the lip of the crater for a good twenty minutes, I huddle with strangers who, like me, are waiting for the morning light to streak the sky with color. 

Eventually, the sky does grow less and less dark — but there is no show. There is no beauty, no sunrise “bursting forth in a flood of warmth and color” to reward me for my early rise, that long drive, or my freezing toes. The sky slowly turns from black to gray with a fog so thick I can barely see a few feet in front of me, much less the island below. My friend finally gets off the bus and comes to find me. She warms my arms gently and tells me, “I think this is it.” But, she sees a weight to my disappointment . . . that I’m waiting for more than a sunrise.

Somehow, I thought the pain and misery of getting to this volcano would pay off and, after years of my own pain, it’s like I need this to be true in my own life. After walking through a difficult season, I need to know that my aches matter. That, in spite of all that has been heavy and hard, something beautiful is, in fact, on the horizon.

Sometimes God allows hard seasons to draw us towards Him . . . but sometimes we choose to suffer. The two are not always connected. My miserable, sunless sunrise taught me that I had gone too far. I wanted my misery to be rewarded with a holy moment and picture-perfect view. I always want the ache to pay off.  I want to push through when I’m not ready. I falsely believe that my faith has to be hard or hurt for it to matter. I want the suffering to bring a reward, but sometimes it only leaves me cold and wet and waiting for something that doesn’t turn out how I’d hoped.

Good and beautiful things can come from hard and horrible places, but there is no reason I should think that they have to.

I like hard things. I used to love running long distances, accomplishing a challenging task, and persevering through hard seasons. But, what I’m starting to learn from sunrises, volcanoes, and patient friends is that these things aren’t good because they are hard. They are good because God is. Full stop.

Eventually, our driver transported us back to our hotel to rest and dry off. Later, we found a little bit of sun and enjoyed our day — a day that started way too early on a bus . . . but ended on the water with a sunset filled with warmth and color. In Psalm 113:3, I’m reminded that, “From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised.” Pondering this Psalm made me realize that all throughout my day, God was present and worthy of praise — both in the gray sunrise and as the sun slowly dipped behind the bay.

As the sun set, the sky turned fifteen different shades of pink and yellow and orange. It was perfect. No suffering required. All I had to do was open my eyes. 

Where to Start When You Don’t Know What to Pray

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Ephesians 3:14-21

14 When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father,15 the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth.16 I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. 17 Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. 18 And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. 19 May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.

20 Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. 21 Glory to him in the church and in Christ Jesus through all generations forever and ever! Amen.

 

If you ever feel stuck or don’t know what to pray, start with Scripture. You can always have confidence that you are seeking the will of God when you pray the Word of God.

At (in)courage, we are honored to pray with you and for you. This passage from Ephesians 3 is our starting point today. Please share a verse that resonates with you, or comment with a specific prayer request. Let’s link arms as sisters in Christ and lift each other up to our God who sees us and loves us.

 

A Different Kind of Brave

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Now a man from the family of Levi married a Levite woman. The woman became pregnant and gave birth to a son; when she saw that he was beautiful, she hid him for three months. But when she could no longer hide him, she got a papyrus basket for him and coated it with asphalt and pitch. She placed the child in it and set it among the reeds by the bank of the Nile. Then his sister stood at a distance in order to see what would happen to him.

Pharaoh’s daughter went down to bathe at the Nile while her servant girls walked along the riverbank. She saw the basket among the reeds, sent her slave girl, took it, opened it, and saw him, the child — and there he was, a little boy, crying. She felt sorry for him and said, “This is one of the Hebrew boys.”

Then his sister said to Pharaoh’s daughter, “Should I go and call a Hebrew woman who is nursing to nurse the boy for you?”

“Go,” Pharaoh’s daughter told her. So the girl went and called the boy’s mother. Then Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this child and nurse him for me, and I will pay your wages.” So the woman took the boy and nursed him. When the child grew older, she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter, and he became her son. She named him Moses, “Because,” she said, “I drew him out of the water.”
Exodus 2:1–10

Jochebed, Moses’ mother, was a woman of great bravery. Her worst nightmare had come true. Her baby boy’s life was in danger, and she could no longer hide him. So, she enacted a plan to save her son’s life. Without knowing if it would work, Jochebed placed her son, Moses, in a basket in the river, and God rewarded her bravery. He allowed Pharaoh’s daughter to find the basket with baby Moses inside, who then asked Jochebed to care for him until he was old enough to live in the palace.

If this mother had let fear control her actions, she would have missed out on a miracle. Because Jochebed chose to be brave, she got to watch God care for Moses and Jochebed’s entire family, protecting them and bringing about His purposes.

Jochebed’s obedience and bravery also created a whole new family, allowing Pharaoh’s daughter to become an adoptive mother. Pharaoh’s daughter showed great bravery as well, as she boldly defied her father’s orders to kill all infant boys. Instead, she took Moses in as her own.

All families — even the ones in the Bible — are messy, and each mother has a unique story regarding how her children came to be hers. Jochebed, Moses, and Pharaoh’s daughter are no exception; rather, they’re an example of grace, bravery, and love that breaks the mold.

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The day I delivered our first baby girl was filled with joy and grief for my husband and me. We were in complete bliss as I picked out which outfit she would wear for her pictures with her big brother. As the nurses wheeled her out, I remember turning the television on to pass the time until my baby was back in my arms. The words “BREAKING NEWS” caught my attention.

A shooting had taken place in an elementary school, and the station was broadcasting live footage of parents waiting for news of their children. It suddenly felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. There I was in a hospital bed waiting for the life I brought into this world, as these parents waited for the worst.

I remember crying for those parents and those innocent children. When my baby was placed in my arms, I held her a little tighter. The headlines can sometimes shake us to the core of our souls, and fear can consume us if we let it. I think of Moses’ mother, Jochebed, and how scared she must have been when she learned that her baby was a boy. She lived in a corrupt time when all baby boys were thrown into the river.

And yet, instead of letting fear control her, she kept her son with love in her heart and strength in her soul. When she could no longer hide him, she did the hardest thing she’d ever have to do. She coated a basket with asphalt and pitch and placed her baby boy in it. Then she placed him in the reeds among the Nile.

When I used to think of the word brave, I imagined someone fighting off lions and bears. But it also looks a lot like a mother trusting in God and gently placing her child into the waters of the unknown. The most beautiful part of the story is that God is faithful in all He does, and He returned Moses to Jochebed for a season, before Moses made his way to the palace under the care of Pharaoh’s daughter.

Since the birth of my first daughter and the day of that horrendous news, we’ve welcomed three more children into this world. As parents in this day and age, we may not be called to release our children into the river in baskets, but we are called to release them to God. Each time we do, we find that His provision is always better than we could ever imagine.

Fear still creeps in some days. But in spite of fearing the unknown waters, I want to love relentlessly, fervently trusting in God with faith like Jochebed. I want to live a life of faith, and most of all, I want to live life with a different kind of brave.

Writings by Denise Hughes and Jasmine Martin, as featured in A Mother’s Love.

Above is an excerpt from our book, A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom, which is full of reflections on God’s heart. Featuring unique and diverse stories from the (in)courage community, A Mother’s Love offers heartfelt encouragement to all kinds of moms, whether they’re a mother in a traditional sense, a spiritual mother, or a mother-like figure who breaks the mold.

This book is sure to help any woman share a meaningful gift with someone who has been impactful in her life, a new mom learning the ropes, or a close loved one facing the joys and challenges of any stage and type of motherhood. Compiled with all women in mind so we can celebrate those who made us, shaped us, helped us grow, and loved us well, A Mother’s Love is a beautiful gift for the moms in your life.

How Is Mercy Part of Our Purpose?

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I’ll never forget where I was, how the hair on my arms stood straight up and goosebumps erupted all over my skin. I’ll never forget how my pounding heart beat like a drum until I could hardly sit in my chair and found myself standing and walking to the front of the room with the rest of the teen girls, who were falling to their knees and breaking down in tears.

Just hours before, I had been laughing with my friends in our cabin, feeling fine and free. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a summer camp — a time to make memories and have fun with friends. Never in a million years could I imagine I’d end up splitting my heart wide open, sitting on the floor of some big gathering room, and crying loudly with prayers pouring from my heart.

The speaker stood on the stage, telling her story and speaking of all the pain and sorrow she once held inside. As she spoke, she lugged around a ball and chain that was attached to her ankle. She told us that holding on to pain and hurt is like being shackled to a heavy weight that always follows and drags, and that the only way to be free of it is to forgive — both ourselves and others.

I thought about the pain I carried from watching my older brother live a life full of sickness and suffering. I thought about the pain I carried from watching my parents split and go their separate ways. I thought about the pain I carried from losing friends after moving from school to school to school. I thought about the sadness I cradled and how it had twisted into a bitter resentment that left me wondering why everything in my life always seemed to fall apart.

I sat on that floor with the rest of the teenagers spilling their hearts out, and I joined in. I joined not because I needed to do what everyone else was doing but because I needed to understand this God for myself. I needed to know if He really could hold my heart, heal my hurt, and set me free from the shackles of sorrow.

My prayer, a whirlwind of whispered words, came out slow and honest:

Dear God, I don’t know who You are. I don’t know if You’re real. But if You are, please take my hurt and give me a heart that cares for others the way that You do. Give me eyes to see the world the way You do and a mouth to speak the way You speak.

When I got up from the floor that day, I didn’t feel any different. I didn’t feel changed or all charged up to go set the world on fire. I only hoped that God had heard me, that He would help me, and that He would have His way in my heart.

Not too long after this moment of sweet surrender, I traveled with my church to Quito, Ecuador, for a weeklong community outreach. Each night we sat under the big white tent as the same refrain played from a wonky keyboard and we all sang: Gracias, gracias Señor. Gracias mi Señor, Jesus. Hands lifting, voices rising in both English and Spanish, we sang this song about receiving the gift of everlasting mercy and everlasting life, about being set free through the blood of Jesus.

On my last day in Quito, I sat on the bleachers at the soccer field and wrapped a young girl in my sweater to shield her from the wind. As we sat there, watching the kids on the field kicking up dust for hours on end, I looked out at the horizon and found myself thinking back to that camp prayer I prayed.

It felt almost as if everything I’d ever felt had been released. I felt compassion — a desire to care about the pain of others — filling me up to overflow. And in that moment I realized that I couldn’t care for the people of a capital city halfway around the world without caring for the people closest to me. I realized I didn’t just want to receive the gift of mercy that I had been singing about. I wanted to extend mercy like God does. I wanted to live out mercy and I wanted to give mercy.

I felt like Saul (a.k.a. Paul) on the road to Damascus as he journeyed from merciless to merciful — from persecuting Christians to passionately proclaiming Christ. Found and forgiven, he was set free to unashamedly share the message of God’s loving-kindness.

This is why mercy matters, because it spreads like wildfire and burns bright with redemption. Mercy restores us to one another while also restoring us to God. And that is God’s heart — that none of us would be far from love or far from Him.

And what a gift it is that His mercy is not just for today. It stretches into tomorrow, saves, and secures us even for life after life. Mercy sets us free not just here on earth but for eternity.

The thought of such grace sends chills down my spine.

Story by Rachel Marie Kang as published in Create in Me a Heart of Mercy

What a powerful story of real-life, deep mercy. This piece appears in our latest Bible Study, Create in Me a Heart of Mercy, available now for preorder. With stories like Rachel’s woven together with Scripture study by Dorina Lazo Gilmore-Young, our prayer is that this study will help you see the mercy God offers each one of us.

Create in Me a Heart of Mercy releases May 16th, and we are SO excited to see how God will use it to speak to your heart. Sign up to get a FREE full week of Bible study from Create in Me a Heart of Mercy and preorder your copy today!

 

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