Taking Another Route

Taking Another Route

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Being single is a whole dang thing. Being single in the church where people are more into marriage than the broader culture? Well, that feels a bit elevated. I want to be clear: I don’t think that marriage is a bad thing. In fact, I love celebrating my friends when they say “I do” to their spouses. I love getting to dance and cheer and applaud when they have that first kiss.

But at the end of all of the wedding festivities, I go home alone.

Last night, there was a noise in my kitchen that woke me up and I had to lie there, debating if I should go check it out, because there was no one to turn to and say, “Did you hear that?”

Aside from the occasional bump in the night or helpless carrying in of bags after a road trip, the rhythms of my life are not that unlike those of a married friend. I’m still a busy human being (despite the fact that many believe single people have loads of free time). I still have full-time work and commitments and social engagements. I still have to pay bills and get the car inspected and grab groceries. I am a full-grown, adult woman who happens to be single, but I often feel like there is an otherness about me in the eyes of my married friends. And yes our lives look different. But also? They’re not that different.

We’re headed to the same places a lot. We are committed to our local churches and ministries, we are all trying to save up for a house one day, we are all figuring out next steps for the future. But the language we use to describe our marital status? It makes single people feel like we’re not autonomous adults with responsibilities, dreams, and desires. And beyond that? We’re all headed to the same eternity. The same fully-realized Kingdom of God with the new heavens and the new earth (where, as a reminder, the only Marriage we’ll know is for all of us in our union with Christ at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb).

So if we’re headed in the same direction, why do we use language that removes commonality?

Here’s what I mean: You’re at a church event or having coffee with a friend and they say, “You’re in a season of singleness” or “That stage of singleness is lonely at times . . . .” And while I understand that this is a common term that’s better than some alternatives like, “You’re stuck in singleness” or “You haven’t fully arrived at adulthood,” (yes, I’ve heard these), I think that for the sake of our friendships between married and single friends, we need to talk about these phrases.

You see, when we categorize people using the language of “season” or “stage,” we insinuate that life has this upward trajectory. That there’s a point A and B, all the way to Z. A formula for what comes next. And it begs the question: What if I’m always single? Do I not experience the seasons of life fully? Do I not move to the next stage of life? Or am I perpetually lacking or left behind?

These categories of Stage and Season create an untrue idea that singleness is a temporal thing or a problem to be fixed. But you know what’s actually true? For some, singleness is not going anywhere anytime soon. I may live and die without a band on my ring finger that has a match with a man to whom I’m committed in holy matrimony. I may never have a spouse who tells me they love me. I may have to watch some friends buy homes nearly a decade before me because I’m living on a single income.

But can I be honest honest for a moment?

Singleness is a thousand joys and a thousand small griefs and to say that I’m a season (behind?) or a stage (before?) is minimizing at best and insulting at worst.

So I am here to humbly request that we start using a new turn of phrase: What if we spoke of our friends as if they’re on different routes? We may meet up or share a vantage point here and there, but we will also likely see things the others won’t. Our elevation gain or loss may shift with different intensities. Some parts of the trail will be overgrown while others are easier to navigate than those on other paths.

See how this sort of imagery levels the playing field a bit? Maybe even offers some . . . dignity? Now, we get to focus on what matters most: traveling along toward the great Destination of Heaven, fellow pilgrims who walk together at times and blaze different trails at times. We’re all just taking different routes to get there.

So much of Scripture celebrates the differences of experience within the church and calls us to honor one another. Listen to this from 1 Corinthians 12:26-27: And if one part of the body suffers, all the parts suffer with it; if a part is honored, all the parts rejoice with it. Now you are Christ’s body, and individually parts of it.”

We belong to one body, sisters. So let’s not put married above single or single above married.

Let’s struggle together and thrive together, rejoicing as we travel Home along whatever route God has for us. 

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Simple Things to Help You When Life Gets Really Hard

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Once upon a time, there was a lovely season when Valentine’s Day was my favorite holiday. It wasn’t due to grand romantic gestures or socially-sanctioned chocolate binging; I cherished our tradition of the Valentine Tea. Three generations deep, the girls in our family would gather around a magnificent table to use our best manners, nibble on treats as pretty as they were delicious, and connect in important ways. My precious mother-in-law initiated the tradition when my daughter – her first grandchild – was just three. Thoughtful and deliberate, Sarah had a knack for making things beautiful and memorable.

From Rachel’s pre-school years through college, we’d look forward to the Valentine Tea, and it never occurred to me that one day it would stop. For a year or two I downplayed the signs that something was amiss. Probably, I just didn’t want to believe that what was happening, was actually happening. But the time Sarah mistook a glittery heart decoration for candy, our sweet tradition sputtered to a sorrowful end. Sarah’s mind was gradually stolen by the bully of dementia.

Life is a gift and life is beautiful, but sometimes life is plain hard.

We all face giants that threaten to slay us. No one is immune to tribulation. A diagnosis, infidelity, the prodigal child. A breach of confidence. Financial uncertainty. Betrayal or injustice. An enslaving addiction we hate beyond measure.

When life becomes a runaway train throttling out of control toward a cliff, what are you to do? How do you respond? Do you become paralyzed with grief or fear? Are you tempted to give up or shake your fist at God? Does your faith wander or whither?

There’s no shame in a knee-jerk response born out of our humanity and emotions. I’m ever-thankful to God that through the power, strength, and leading of His Spirit, our very human first response to heartache seldom remains our final response. Seeking and being surrendered to God changes us and how we respond to our circumstances.

When David battled Goliath, his weapons didn’t compare to the giant’s javelin, spear, and sword. As a shepherd, all he had was a stick (a staff) and a sling. Isn’t this the way of God, for Him to equip us with what we need, when we need it? To the bystanders looking on, it must’ve looked like David didn’t stand a chance. But God used simple tools David was already familiar with to defeat his enemy.

When we’re in pain or when life’s inevitable battles come our way, we also have familiar tools at our disposal.

Here are six simple things that have helped me when life gets really hard:

Remember that God is always with you. Knowing you are not alone makes a huge difference. God is ever-present, eager to impart His strength and comfort. Isaiah 41:10 says, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you  with my righteous right hand.” Do you see how this is about what God will do? We don’t have to conjure what God has already offered.

Pray. Prayer is powerful, helping us to find peace and clarity. Even if you’re struggling in your faith, prayer maintains a connection to God. We can pour out our hearts to God regardless of what we’re feeling, trusting Him to do what’s best. Psalm 107:28-29 says, “Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.” 

Practice self-care. It‘s so easy to neglect our own needs. But taking care of ourselves helps us to cope. Meditate on Scripture. Eat healthily. Make sleep a priority. Go for a walk. Do something creative. Refreshing your heart, mind, and body matters. 

Be thankful. It’s easy to be thankful when life is good, but a challenge when you’re suffering.  Still, practicing gratitude is a fierce act of obedience that comes with a blessing. Philippians 4:6–7 reminds us to, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Supernatural peace arrives on the coattails of gratitude. 

Invite others into your pain. Community is reflected in the Trinity; God is three persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Yes, God is with us, but Galatians 6:2 tells us to bear one another’s burdens. Some things are just too heavy to carry alone. Drawing from 1 Corinthians 12:24-26 we read that “God has so composed the body…that the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together….” Whether a friend, your small group, or church leader, it is life-giving to have someone else praying for you, listening to, acknowledging, and empathizing with your hurt, speaking truth to you, and maybe even offering insight or resources from a similar experience. We are not designed to go it alone. 

Cling to the Word and truth of the Gospel. The Bible isn’t an instruction manual but it’s the primary means through which we know God and learn about what’s important to Him. We get to meet Jesus, observe His life, grieve His death, and celebrate His resurrection. He is no stranger to hard things, but His story is one of good news! No matter what we’re facing, we have a Savior who’s acquainted with our sorrow, who can identify with our pain, and who promises us life everlasting. Our heartache serves a purpose because it can loosen our grip on this world and remind us we aren’t made for it, anyway. 

When life gets really hard, it’s paradoxical to me that the things that help me most are actually pretty simple.

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Finding Jesus in the Psalms

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When I was eight years old, I crammed a stack of Monopoly game money into an offering envelope during a Sunday morning service. I followed the instructions on the front of the envelope, and carefully printed my name, address, and phone number on the lines provided . . . using a purple Crayola crayon. I happily dropped that envelope into the metal plate as it passed by. Each week, I heard our pastor talk about how God loves a cheerful giver and since I usually didn’t have money to give, I often felt bad. But on that day, I was pretty happy with myself.

My mom received a phone call later that afternoon. Back then, telephones were mounted on the wall and the length of the cord dictated how much one had to whisper to keep things private. Turns out the church treasurer got excited at seeing a plump giving envelope in the offering bag, but quickly got angry when my game money fell out. The phone call was to relay displeasure over what a few adults at the church considered a distasteful childhood prank.

After the phone call, my mom gave me a stern talking-to about not stuffing the offering plate with play money. I’m pretty sure that the corners of her mouth quivered upward while her words sharply emphasized the importance of taking all things related to God seriously.

My earlier happiness disappeared. I trudged to my room wondering if God was as disappointed with me as the church treasurer and the other adults were. As a kid, I didn’t know about legalism and crabby Christians. Instead, I was overwhelmed with feeling bad about doing something for God that I thought was good. Therefore, I came to a theological conclusion that would hover over my spiritual life for decades to come: Even if you try really hard, God may still be disappointed with you. That new belief was accompanied by a new sensation that would play a significant role in my spiritual journey: Guilt.

How often does guilt surface in your Christian life? For many of us, it’s far too often.

On February 22, known as Ash Wednesday, Christians around the world begin the annual observation of Lent. Originated by church leaders sometime after 325 A.D., Lent was created as a season of fasting patterned after Jesus’ 40 days of fasting in the wilderness. The intent of Lent is for Christians to put aside certain comforts or attachments to re-align one’s focus on God.

As I’ve talked with Christians about Lent’s 40 days of spiritual emphasis, many release a lethargic sigh. First, no one really likes giving up the things that they love. Second, Lent tends to stir up guilt because the focus on connecting with God usually stirs up failed attempts to connect with God, therefore a lot of guilt. For far too many Christians, guilt is associated with almost every function of the Christian life. There’s guilt around going to church, missing church, reading the Bible, as well as not reading the Bible. Have you ever fallen asleep while praying? Big guilt there, right?! But what if Lent could be about experiencing life-giving grace and hope instead of guilt?

Would you like a new path that guides you away from exhausting guilt to a new journey of freedom and grace?

In my new book, Finding Jesus in the Psalms, readers are invited to engage in a six-week Lenten book study that explores the heart of God and the idea that God wants more for us than from us. Each featured Psalm pointedly identifies a Savior, a Messiah, and a coming King. Since the Lenten season leads up to Easter, this book study offers a scripturally rich, spiritually-challenging, yet easy-to-read resource to equip you to focus on God during the Easter season. There are two takeaways that offer an opportunity for deeper faith and less guilt:

First, knowing that God wants more FOR you than from you.

Second, that Lent is a preparation season rather than a performance season. God wants to prepare you to receive more of His grace rather than grade you on how good you’re doing at giving up stuff.

As one of the most popular books in the Bible, the Psalms sing with the heartbeat of our humanity. Not only do the Psalms capture every emotion of our human experience, but the multiple Spirit-led authors of the Psalms teach us a divine language to communicate with God, especially when we’re in hard places in life.

One of the intriguing features of Finding Jesus in the Psalms revolves around the multiple layers of discovery. Even as the Psalms reveal Jesus, the same Psalms also reference King David, the author of approximately half of the book of Psalms and considered to be Israel’s greatest king. Readers will look at portions of King David’s life that point to more about Jesus.

Best of all, you don’t have to know anything about Lent to experience Finding Jesus In The Psalms. All you need is to have the desire to intentionally draw closer to God and deepen your faith. If you aren’t sure if that’s your desire, you can find inspiration in King David’s stories and be encouraged by his faith.

It’s my prayer that as you experience Finding Jesus in the Psalms, you are blessed by a renewed connection with God. His dream is for you to experience the life-transforming gift of salvation and break the chains of guilt, shame, and religious rules once and for all.

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Make your Easter season more meaningful this year! Join Barb Roose for a journey into one of the most popular books in the Bible with Finding Jesus in the Psalms. Each chapter includes opportunities to apply life-giving spiritual themes — like worship, prayer, confession, forgiveness, courage, and faith — to your life. You can do this book on your own, with a group, or sign up for Barb’s free online Finding Jesus in the Psalms Bible study beginning February 22nd and going for six weeks.

We’re so excited for this very needed message to get into your hands!

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

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

 

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*Giveaway open until 2/17/23 at 11:59 pm central to US addresses only. Winners will be notified via email. Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery.

You Are Loved as God’s Daughter

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The hallway started to feel a little toasty on that December afternoon at the Fresno County Courthouse as forty friends and family packed in for the momentous occasion. The joy in the air was palpable for the official adoption ceremony of my three daughters by my husband Shawn. 

Shawn and I married seven years ago after my first husband Ericlee died of cancer. Of course, Shawn has already been a faithful father to the girls all these years. He has helped them with homework, taught them how to ride a bike, worked to put food on our table, and held them when tears of grief streaked their cheeks. 

This ceremony was an official declaration of his heart to support them forever. Before the judge and this cloud of witnesses, Shawn pledged to support and care for the girls.

In the car on the way to the courthouse, I got choked up as I heard him tell the girls they were chosen. We don’t choose our children as biological parents, but Shawn had the privilege of intentionally and willingly choosing my three daughters to be his own. Shawn honored his dear friend Ericlee in heaven when he signed those papers to become their legal father.

I remember the early days of my grief and how heavy I felt thinking about my girls growing up without their gregarious and loving daddy. The weight of that reality almost felt heavier than thinking about my own future without my beloved.

But God in His sovereignty had other plans I couldn’t even dream up or imagine for my girls and for me.

Deuteronomy 10:18 reminds us of God’s heart for the vulnerable: “He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing.”

I never imagined that verse and others like it would apply to me and my children — until it did. I was widowed at age 37 and my girls were suddenly fatherless. Part of God’s redemptive plan for our family was bringing my husband Shawn to defend, love, and support us.

As I sat inside the courtroom watching my girls sign the papers taking on a new name, I couldn’t help but marvel at my heavenly Father’s lovingkindness toward us. We are all “Gilmore Youngs” now. We carry the name of their daddy Ericlee Gilmore in heaven and the name of Shawn Young, their daddy here on earth. 

In our hearts, we are daughters of Yahweh. He is our Abba Father, who chose to adopt us as His own children. When we take on our Daddy God’s name, it changes everything.

The Apostle Paul explains this in his letter to the church in Galatia:

“But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, subject to the law. God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves to the law, so that he could adopt us as his very own children. And because we are his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, prompting us to call out, ‘Abba, Father.’ Now you are no longer a slave but God’s own child. And since you are his child, God has made you his heir.”
Galatians 4:4-7 (NLT)

Paul’s adoption imagery here is poignant and powerful. He reminds us that God sent His son Jesus to buy back our freedom. We were once slaves, but He purchased our liberty. Jesus redeemed us by choosing to die on the cross and then rising from the dead. We are no longer slaves, but adopted as daughters into God’s family.

God chose us, according to Ephesians 1:5, in much the same way Shawn chose my daughters. When Shawn stood before the judge, she asked him if he promised to provide financially for the girls and to care for their needs. As God’s chosen children, we are also invited to enjoy His daily provision and inheritance, which is eternal life. 

Many of us know this to be true, but we have a kind of soul amnesia and do not live like we are heirs in God’s family. We strive to earn our keep. We question our callings. We fret about the future. 

Friend, what would it look like for you to live like you are a beloved daughter of the King? What behaviors and attitudes would you leave behind?

Here’s the heart of the matter: His love for us is unconditional. He signed the papers for our adoption with the precious blood of His Son Jesus. Now we are all invited to be branches of His family tree. 

After the adoption ceremony of my girls, our friends, and family joined us for coffee and ice cream at one of our favorite local spots. We marked the moment. We publicly rejoiced in the redemption of our story that only God, the author of Love, could have written.

Dorina writes about discovering God’s glory in unexpected places. Subscribe to Dorina’s Glorygram here for weekly encouragement.

 

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When the New Year Feels a Lot Like the Old One

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My December was rough. And based on what I heard from several friends, family members, and social media connections, I was not alone.

As I was dealing with sickness, frozen pipes, a broken vacuum and a deep freezer on the fritz the day before company was coming, I was reading messages and posts about similar situations for what seemed like everyone I know. Hospitalizations, unexpected bills, travel plans canceled by weather, and even funerals.

The end of the year was hard for a lot of us.

The beauty of the end of the year, though, is that it’s the end. Right? We’re finishing projects, crossing days off the calendar, making it through exams and deadlines, and wondering when is too early to take back our house from the Christmas clutter (or, conversely, deciding to leave up those twinkly lights because they’re cozy and that’s enough reason for you). The end of the year often brings a mingling of joy and grief, but no matter what your circumstance, it brings hope.

Hope of a new year. Hope of another chance. Hope of a fresh start.

More than once, I’ve found myself saying something like, “Here’s to a new year (may it be better than the last one)!” Sometimes the hope of a new beginning is the thing we desperately need to help us endure a hard season.

So, the end of the year was rough, but of course I survived. I survived — for a few moments I may have even thrived — and then January came with its new planner, prepped lunches, and a plan to plug in my treadmill again. My January even came with a new job, so I had all the expectations in the world that this year would! be! different!

I felt so optimistic until the moment I received a phone call, making it clear that 2023 would be the same as last year, that nothing had changed, that “new year, new us” was a big bag of lies.

(As you see, I went from hopeful to hopeless real fast.)

I hung up the phone and threw it on the couch, crying out loud, “Why, God?!! I thought we were past this! I thought things were better! Why is this still happening?” I looked at my calendar and wondered how God could break His promises for fresh mercies, for clean starts, for a new year to mean a new life, a new reality, a new everything.

Spoiler alert: God did not break His promises. He never has and He never will.

My confusion came from my misunderstanding of those promises, perhaps a bit willfully as I tried to twist God’s Word into a guarantee of earthly goodness. I know better. But that didn’t stop me from plucking a few verses out of the Bible and clinging to them for what I wanted, rather than what is true.

Perhaps you’ve fallen prey to this temptation too? Maybe you’ve suffered through a painful season, treading water and grabbing anything that looks like it might keep you afloat. Maybe you’ve felt so weary and worn down that analyzing the Bible and remembering what you’ve studied and learned in that past truly is too hard. Or maybe you’ve looked squarely at Scripture and simply not liked what you saw.

That’s pretty much where I was in January, wiping tears off my face and wondering where God was and why He wasn’t doing what I wanted and needed and expected. But like the patient heavenly Father that He is, God didn’t roll His eyes at my tantrum or ignore me until I got myself under control.

No, He gently reminded me of the exact words of those scriptures I’d been clinging to and asked me to look at them again.

“The thought of my suffering and homelessness is bitter beyond words.
I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss.
Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this:
The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease.
Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.”
Lamentations 3:19-23

“For I am about to do something new.
See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.
I will create rivers in the dry wasteland…
Yes, I will make rivers in the dry wasteland so my chosen people can be refreshed.”
Isaiah 43:19-20

See what it says? God’s mercies begin fresh each morning, and He makes rivers in the desert. Yes, praise Him for that!

But it turns out God didn’t promise to reverse our loss or even to end our suffering; He promises never ending mercy and faithfulness. And it turns out God didn’t promise to pull us out of the desert — He declares He will provide water to refresh us while we’re there. As Jesus said in John 16:33, we’re gonna have troubles in this world. But He is stronger than the world and He will be with us through all those troubles.

When I flipped open my new planner on January 1, my life didn’t magically improve. My daughter is still sick, my marriage is still hard, my finances are still a mess, and I even found myself coughing and sniffling again just like I was in December. Everything about my life and this world is the same as it was last year — and that includes the Lord.

When this new year feels a lot like the old year, remember that this is actually a gift. It’s not evidence of a broken promise; it’s the fulfillment. God is faithful and true to every one of His promises. So just like last year and the year before that and the year before that, He is with us. He loves us, He cares for us, and He will never leave us alone. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

 

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The Secret Place Where Contentment Is Uncovered

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I feel guilty admitting that waves of grief wash over me every time I notice my father’s delight when he holds his grandchildren . . . grandchildren that are not mine.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my nieces and nephews. They have been a constant source of comfort in my life, and I adore seeing how happy they make my father — especially when he’s not feeling well. I am grateful that he has them and that they get to grow up knowing him.

But I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I sometimes feel like I’m missing out . . . because I don’t have children — and the best fertility doctors in Las Vegas can’t seem to explain why. 

This grief intensifies as the years go by, as my father grows older in age and more feeble in strength. Infertility holds incredible power to inflict pain on its victims with each milestone life brings. I used to allow the waves of grief to pull me under their current as if I was a helpless victim. Succumbing to the pressure, I would act as if I believed myself too weak to fight. 

I used to give in to that overwhelming current, driving myself further and further into my work at any cost. I created the excuse that I needed to work hard, handling it all before the babies arrived. I convinced myself that it was acceptable to let my work hours linger longer and longer into the night.

I was fueled by the lie that life would be worth living, and my home worth enjoying, once those babies arrived. But to live like that was a lie and, finally, I’ve started fighting the downward current to keep my head above water.

Looking back, I now see that I was numbing my disappointment and ignoring the reality that I am growing older without children. I began to see that this lie produced greater problems than the ones I found myself focusing on. I had begun to ignore the very people I’d once prayed to have strong relationships with — my husband, my family, and my friends.

I’ve finally learned how to fight against grief’s pressure. I’ve finally learned that keeping my head above water means closing my laptop at a consistent time, even if the work is not complete. It means finding new ways to enjoy my home, slowing down and sitting on the couch, discovering new interests and hobbies, and reading for fun. It means appreciating time with my family instead of worrying and wishing that it could be different. All of this, and more, leads me to find greater fulfillment in each of my days.

Over the past year, I’ve slowly but surely started learning that life is worth living, family and friends were created to be enjoyed, and emotions are powerful teachers, however obtrusive they may feel. The enjoyment available to us in life is not dependent on our ability to get married, birth children, maintain a model-sized figure, or take family vacations that inspire envy in others.

Our ability to enjoy life depends on the intimacy we cultivate with the Lord — even, and especially, when we’re confused and discontent.

The apostle Paul told us that he’d learned the secret to being content. “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well-fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:12-13, NIV).

I pray that you feel the Lord’s strength pulsing through you, helping you push against the current that’s trying to pull you under, in any and every area where it exists.

God is with you, and every milestone you pass has been meticulously thought out and planned by an intentional and loving God who desires the best for you. Continue to pursue His presence, because it is there that we receive a perspective that is far greater than ours. That perspective leads us to experience peace, joy, gratitude, and delight in the everyday — and everything about it is worth the pursuit.

The gratitude you experience as you allow God’s perspective to shift your attention away from your grief will flow from the time you spend with Him.

The secret place where contentment is uncovered is found in His presence. I hope you’ll go there with Him . . .

Will You Remember the Gift or the Giver?

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“When the Lord your God brings you into the land he swore to your ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that he would give you — a land with large and beautiful cities that you did not build, houses full of every good thing that you did not fill them with, cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant — and when you eat and are satisfied, be careful not to forget the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the place of slavery.”
Deuteronomy 6:10-12

As the Israelites were preparing to enter the promised land, God was preparing their hearts to not forget Him. God reminded His people of His long track record of miraculous faithfulness, and assured them that His generosity and provision would continue.

But . . . God also offered a warning.

“Be careful not to forget the Lord.”

God knows that human hearts can easily become so satisfied with the gifts that we forget the Giver.

Yes, the Israelites would enjoy occupying safe cities and beautiful homes, having access to water and a variety of delicious foods. These blessings would be an intense contrast to their forty years of living in tents in the wilderness, constantly moving, and being sustained on manna alone. But be careful, God said. Don’t forget Me. I’m the One who made your freedom and flourishing possible. The One you still need — in times of plenty and in times of want.

Sister, accept God’s gentle warning today. Is there an area of your life where you’ve become so focused on the gift that you’ve forgotten the Giver? Take time today to remember what God has done in your life. Thank Him. And recommit to living dependent on Him.

Kindness for the Long Haul

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Kindness once is a small stone skipped in the large lake of a life. The ripple is visible and meaningful in the moment — but eventually it will fade. Repeated kindness, on the other hand, creates an ongoing impact. Like pebble upon pebble upon pebble ricocheting off the glassy water. The rings of influence widen, the depth of impact deepens. When the stones keep coming, they’re sure to create waves of lasting change.

When I think about the impact of perpetual kindness in my life, I think of my friend Esther.

I met Esther my sophomore year of college when she was the new, twenty-something staffer for the campus ministry I was involved in. The ministry encouraged discipleship. I didn’t really know what it meant to be “discipled,” but I longed to grow in my faith and for someone to guide the way.

Esther and I started meeting weekly in my beige cinder block dorm room. I guess I expected to learn about the Bible and how to love Jesus more. I thought someone more spiritually mature could keep me accountable with my boyfriend and my progress with Scripture memory. I was a high achiever and eager to add “good Christian” to my accolades. But Esther didn’t give me a list of spiritual checkboxes. Instead, she taught me what it meant to care for someone’s heart. She taught me about the kindness of Jesus by living it.

When Esther asked a question, she leaned in to hear the answer. She was at ease in my awkward silence. She wasn’t afraid of the messy parts of my past or how confused I felt about pieces of my present. Esther just wanted to be with me.

One Thursday afternoon, several months into our meetings, we decided to hang out at Starbucks instead of in my dorm. With mocha Frappuccinos sweating between us, we huddled around a small table along the far wall of windows. Through the haze of time I don’t remember the story I told or the problem I was processing, but I do remember how Esther suddenly reached into her bag and pulled out a collapsible keyboard and attached it to her Palm. (Yes, this was long before the days of smartphones and tablets.) As I talked, Esther started typing. I asked what she was doing.

“I usually take notes about our time together later,” she explained, “but what you’re sharing is really important. I don’t want to forget it.”

I must have had a strange look on my face because Esther quickly added, “I just want to remember how to pray for you and be able to follow up later on what we’ve talked about today. Does that make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No. Not uncomfortable.” I wiped the tears that emerged without warning. “It makes me feel seen. Loved. Invested in . . . like no one ever has.”

Esther’s thoughtful questions and attentive listening made me feel cared for in a way I had never experienced before. We continued to meet regularly for more than two years. I was sold on the life-changing power of discipleship. But Esther’s impact in my life wasn’t because of a certain organization or curriculum. Esther changed my life because she was one person who showed up over and over to love and serve another person.

She saw me and accepted me, right where I was, from right where she was.

TODAY: Ask a friend how they’re really doing and lean in to listen to the answer.

Written by Becky Keife, adapted from her (in)courage book, The Simple Difference.

 

Announcing the Heart of Wisdom Online Bible Study!!

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Want to do a Bible study but aren’t sure where to start? Looking to walk through Scripture with a fantastic group of women? Need someone else to handle the planning and coordinating that comes with organizing a Bible study?

Above all that, are you searching for the kind of wisdom that only comes from the Lord? We’ve got you, friend!

Join us for our Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom Online Bible study, led by Grace P. Cho! Yep, it’s time for our winter study, and this time we’re searching for wisdom with an easy-to-join, deeply impactful study. We can’t wait! We will spend six weeks going through the Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom Bible study, written by Grace P. Cho and featuring stories from several of our (in)courage contributors.

Join the Heart of Wisdom Online Bible Study!

Here’s what you need to know:

1. You’ll need a copy of Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom to fully participate in the study. We will provide the reading guidelines, discussion questions, and video conversations 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 Wisdom AND a printable page of Scripture Memory bookmarks for FREE!

3.  The study runs from February 20th to March 31st.  Every Monday you can start reading that week’s chapter, and we’ll share the memory verse for the week on our social channels. On Thursdays, you can tune in for “Ten Minutes of Wisdom with Grace” — a brief, inspiring video! We’ll also send you an email with a weekly recap, including the memory verse, a link to the video on YouTube, lock screens, reflection questions, and more.

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. Simply read the Bible study each week, then gather together (in person or online) to watch that week’s video, enjoy your own discussion, and close in prayer.

That’s it! Super fun and low-stress, right? That’s how we like to do things when life is already full to the brim.

Don’t have your copy of the study yet or want to give a copy to a friend? Cue a GIVEAWAY! [giveaway now closed]

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 Bible study! The giveaway is open to U.S. addresses only and closes on February 13th at 11:59 pm central.

Then, mark your calendars for February 20th when we kick off the Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom Online Bible Study! We hope you’ll join us. Sign up here or at the form below!

We can’t wait to get started!

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

Listen in to a conversation with Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom author Grace P. Cho on the (in)courage podcast!

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

 

Signing up will get you the OBS, a free week, and occasional emails from (in)courage. You can opt-out at any time.

In Uncertainty and Limbo, You Are Not Alone

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“I can’t go back to church,” she confessed as we stood in my driveway. She had just dropped off her daughter for a sleepover. Before heading back to her car, we paused for an impromptu check-in. I could tell she was wrestling with something. She was in a different place.

In fact, since COVID-19 had broken our rhythms and disrupted our normal comings and goings, we all were in a different place. During the time we weren’t gathering each Sunday morning to worship collectively, we didn’t see, hear, or touch each other on a regular basis. With the absence of our weekly ritual, we were distant and disoriented in all kinds of ways. While we were away from each other, we missed the progression of each other’s lives. Children kept growing. Life seasons changed. People died. Dreams were born. But we missed it.

As we began to slowly reappear in each other’s lives, the growth, changes, and shifts that occurred were undeniable. However, we weren’t quite sure how to talk about it. It reminds me of when grandparents don’t see their grandchildren for a long time. The grandparents try to pick up where they left off from the last time they were with their grandchildren, but the grandchildren have outgrown that place. The kids have developed and are different, so naturally, they aren’t wanting or able to relate in the same ways they used to. So, it takes a while to fill in the gaping hole of time.

My friend and I were trying to recalibrate — to bring each other up to speed so that we could move forward together from the present. We awkwardly tried to feel each other out. I sensed that she didn’t know if she could be completely transparent. She didn’t know how I’d feel about the ways she’d evolved in our time away from each other. She thought that I would judge her for choosing not to go back to church. As I listened to her nervously explain, anticipating a negative reaction from me, I could tell that she felt alone in her experience. She shared why she couldn’t go back to normal — to the way things were with church. But she also felt insecure about having such a strong conviction without possessing a clear vision for the new way forward. I asked her if she felt in limbo, in between places. She was relieved to hear words that resonated with her soul and experience.

I then shared this with her:

In 2016, I stood in someone else’s driveway listening as a couple shared with me that they couldn’t go back to their church. As they professed their convictions, I grieved their experience. Spirit whispered to me that more people will be stirred to move on from their local churches. As I gasped in horror, Spirit encouraged me not to be afraid and assured me that though this felt painful, goodness would prevail. I certainly didn’t and still don’t understand, but I chose to trust Spirit more than I trust my feelings. 

When my friend awkwardly poured out her convictions and anxiety onto my driveway, I wasn’t shocked. This kind of impromptu confession had become a familiar experience. I had not only listened in driveways, but also on sidewalks after events, at the end of business meetings, off in the corner during a social gathering – places no one plans to spew their pent-up emotional or spiritual conundrums.

Each time, I listened intensely. And when they paused, signaling me to evaluate their dilemma about church, or a lack thereof, I shared what Spirit whispered to me years ago and how I can see goodness in uncertainty – the limbo, the in-between, the not going back to normal while not being completely sure about what’s next.

The good news is that in the absence of certainty, God is fully present and magnified. God is in this in-between place, in our questions, our searching, our courageous movement and shifting. God is with us in the driveway as we grasp for assurance, direction, and protection. And it’s good!

With the sharing of this revelation came an audible exhale. Each time, I witnessed relief replace anxiety and celebration overtake isolation. I realized that although some of us have been motivated to leave our local church, or not go back to normal, we also need to be in each other’s presence to stir life within one another. Hebrews 10:24-25 encourages us to not neglect meeting together:

“Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near.”

I grew up reading this passage solely in regard to attending church on Sunday mornings. Experiencing people ‘not going back to church’ has expanded my understanding and application. In the absence of our Sunday gathering rituals – by necessity or by choice — we still need to intentionally come together and hold space for one another, to connect, process, and confess. Whether we meet in a church building on Sundays or a coffee shop on Wednesdays,  we need time together to be vulnerable and to be validated. We need close proximity to snuff out isolation.

A few of us decided to organize a monthly gathering to simply be able to see, motivate, and encourage one another. We call it Potluck. We choose someone’s home to meet in, take a dish, spend time together, check in, and catch up. We bring ourselves in from the driveways, corners, sidewalks, and distance to a sense of belonging. Gathering brings definition to the in-between place and reminds us not to be afraid. Meeting together helps reconcile the limbo and calls it good!

Feeling uncertain about the way forward is okay. But remember, being in limbo does not mean you have to be alone. 

 

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

Doing What Jesus Says Even When It’s Awkward

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I’ve been falling in love with daily walks and the way the rhythm of my feet moves my heart to the rhythm of prayer. And by prayer, I mean just a conversation with Jesus.

I talk to Him about the topic of a podcast I’ve just listened to or about the beauty I’m noticing around me — sunlight streaming through oak trees or a slight breeze waving the fronds of California palms. As my feet move along sunny sidewalks and down narrow paths, I tell Jesus what’s on my mind, ask Him questions, and wait for His reply.

It was during one of these conversations that I told Jesus I want to experience more of Him this year. I desire to understand His love for me – and for others – more fully. I want to be fully aware of His ways and His workings. I didn’t have an immediate revelation or hear an audible voice speaking back to me. But I knew Jesus was with me. And it was enough to just be with Him.

As I was nearing the end of my walk, a neighbor came to mind, a mom who lived around the corner from us. With the morning sun warm on my face, I heard in my spirit, Stop and talk to her. And tell her that I love her.

Now understand, the woman who had popped into my thoughts was nice and friendly — but we weren’t friends. We had waved hello and made small talk. But all I really knew about her was that her family had moved from another state a couple years back and she had five kids. In my book, that’s the kind of person you chat with in the driveway, not the kind whose doorbell you ring mid-morning for no real reason other than to say, “God told me to tell you He loves you.”

So the internal uncertainty began. Did Jesus really say that? Was that my own voice? Am I just trying to manifest my own “Jesus experience”?

As I wrestled with my thoughts and asked God to bring clarity to my mind, here’s what I realized:

It actually didn’t matter whether Jesus specifically told me to stop and talk to this neighbor or not. Because He had already said it in the past. To me. To you. To all of us. “Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other” (John 13:34).

My heart thumped a bit faster. Did I feel awkward ringing someone’s doorbell without an obvious reason to be there? Yep! Was I also aware that this woman and her family seemed to be firmly established in a different set of religious beliefs than I was? Uh-huh.

But here’s the deal: Awkwardness and differences are not reasons to ignore Jesus.

And Jesus said again, “This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you” (John 15:12).

Rounding the final bend before reaching my neighbor’s house, I considered the many ways Jesus loves me. He loves me with compassion. He loves me with truth, discernment, provision, joy, and peace. But at the top of my list? He loves me with His presence. Just being together, knowing He is available, attentive, and interested in what concerns me – yes, that’s one of the deepest ways I know His love.

Yes, I can love someone else in that same way.

I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. The husband answered and invited me in. His wife sat at the kitchen table feeding the baby his morning cereal. She apologized for the state of her hair and clothes and home while offering me a seat at the table.

“I was on my way home from a walk,” I explained, “and I thought of you. So, I decided to just stop by and say hello.”

Simple. Honest. And she was genuinely happy I did.

We spent the next thirty minutes chatting about holiday travels and kids starting sports soon. I made silly faces at her smiley one-year-old and rolled a slobbery ball (his saliva, not mine) back and forth across the table. I asked her what it’s been like to live far away from family and if California feels like home yet. I told her about my job and how much I love our recent weather. She shared about the gift of her church and how she likes listening to uplifting podcasts. It was the simple beginning of what I hope to be a new friendship.

When I stood up to leave, I hugged the mama with the messy bun and baby on her hip, and she sincerely thanked me for stopping by.

“Well, thank you for letting me intrude on your day,” I said. “It was so great to hang out for a bit and get to know you better.” Then I took a deep breath and added, “Also, as I was walking, I felt like God wanted me to tell you that He loves. He sees you and is with you, right now.”

She hugged me again. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that today.”

Dear sister, maybe you need those words today too.

God loves you. He sees you. He is with you right now.

Or maybe you need the reminder that it’s always the right time to love someone the way God is so good at loving you. Don’t let uncertainty or awkwardness or perceived differences keep you from a simple step of love.

For more encouragement on embracing awkward moments for the sake of loving others, check out Becky’s book, The Simple Difference.

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

His Truth Keeps Marching On

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It was a small fib. But I was a little girl. Just five years old, I suddenly had a haul of pocket change when I had not a job, a piggy bank, or a way to get my tiny fingers on all those shiny nickels and dimes. 

So, I lied about the money. Where did I get it? 

“I found it on the sidewalk.” Or, “My friend at kindergarten gave it to me.” Or, “Daddy dropped it in the backyard.” Or, “Mommy left it in the kitchen.” You get the drift. Every story got more convoluted and, to my parents’ ears, surely more absurd. 

To a person telling a lie, it’s an exercise in self-deception, convincing yourself you’re not “cutting from whole cloth”– or lying like crazy — when all that subterfuge keeps doubling down on itself until not a thread of frayed truth remains. 

I’m still amazed, looking back, at how determined I was to make my fibs seem truthful. “But It’s true!” I pleaded to my parents — who let me coil myself deeper into my fabricated hole. They knew eventually I’d understand this: 

Telling lies is a path to pain — until we walk back to Christ, our Truth. God “detests lying lips” (Proverbs 12:22.) He makes that clear in  Psalm 101:7: 

“No one who practices deceit 
    will dwell in my house; 
no one who speaks falsely 
    will stand in my presence.” 

That’s the landscape I dared to trod in Double the Lies, the second installment of my historical mystery series about theologian-turned-detective Annalee Spain. Why this topic? I had personal experience of twisting a lie into deceitful truth, especially when lying to myself.  

I remember that outcast feeling to this day. My embarrassing truth?  

I was pilfering money from the dresser top of a neighbor lady who babysat me at her house after school. Her nickels and dimes seemed a pathway to boundless treasures. Candy from the corner store. Popsicles from the ice cream truck. Lollipops at the grocer’s. 

More than such things, however, money seemed to say I mattered. That was my thinking at even age five. I’m intrigued, indeed, how false thinking from my childhood became a plot lesson in the grown-up story of my new mystery, Double the Lies. 

When I suggested that title to my editor at Tyndale House, she loved it immediately. We hadn’t yet agreed on the entire plot. But we both felt certain that a mystery involving lies could take the story to places every soul has gone — into the mire of deceit – and then shine a light on how to climb our way out. 

I’ve been on that journey since I grew up with the most hurtful lie of my childhood, Jim Crow segregation. “Colored people” like me were declared the awful worst. “WHITES ONLY ALLOWED” shouted society’s signs and, despite my young age, I could read them. 

To borrow a religious term, I was baptized into the fire of this fight, trying to prove myself greater than such awful untruth – while my wise parents invited me to come clean first about my own. I sobbed, in fact, when I finally broke down and confessed my childish wrongdoing.  

My parents forgave me, and so did God. Our neighbor lady, too. I became so leery of lying that, as a writer, I seized honesty as my hallmark, looking for ways to tell tough truths.  

Thus, I didn’t run when the plot of Double the Lies swung to interracial romance, an illegal notion in the 1920s where Annalee’s story takes place. A surprise, it tests my young Black detective because she already has promised her heart to another. Would she give in to the risky temptation? Or tell the truth that she was flattered and attracted by it — a distraction she had to confront to solve the real crime. 

William Shakespeare had a phrase for such courage: “O, while you live, tell truth and shame the devil!” He wrote that for his popular wartime play, Henry IV, Part I, where his brave hero Hotspur declares his command over Satan by simply shaming him. How? By speaking truth. 

What a powerful way, in our age, to beat back conspiracy theories and falsehoods. Yet the best tactic to conquer a lie? 

Lift up the One who is our Truth. In Jesus’ own words: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). 

My little detective learns that the hard way. But finally, she prays a humble prayer, simply asking God for help. As she wonders, maybe those “are the prayers God answers first. Honest ones.”  

Soon, indeed, she’s free to solve the mystery. If her journey sounds intriguing, I invite you to dive into her story to see what you discover – perhaps about yourself. 

Meantime, may we never doubt that the whole truth is never far. His name is Christ  — and His truth keeps marching on. That sounds like a battle song, and maybe it is. More than all, however, His truth marches us toward His forgiving, accepting love. For me. For you. For all. 

—

Double the Lies from award-winning author Patricia Raybon is featured in the February issue of Woman’s World Magazine, and was lauded by Publishers Weekly as a “fast-moving mystery” whose “mix of history and intrigue will captivate readers.” The novel is “stirring, fast-paced and powerful,” says Foreword Reviews, It follows All That Is Secret, the 2022 Christy Award-winning debut of the Annalee Spain Mystery series from Tyndale House.

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

Then join Becky Keife for a conversation with Patricia 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 until 2/13/23 at 11:59 pm central to US addresses only. Winners will be notified via email. Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery.

God’s Presence Is Not Always a Feeling

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There were 25,000 people around me, all of us thronged into an Atlanta arena for a young adults conference, everyone singing as loud as we possibly could. At least, that’s how it sounded. I couldn’t decipher who was singing and who wasn’t – all I knew was thousands of voices were praising God together and I’d never heard anything like it before. I closed my eyes and stopped singing, trying to take in the sound. It was an enormous sound; it thundered around me, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. It sounded like what heaven might someday be like. I felt small, and in awe. Despite being surrounded by people, I felt intimately acquainted with the God of the universe. 

A few days later, I was back in my small church in Dundas, Ontario. There were seventy-four people around me. Someone always counts who comes, because we’re a small enough church to track numbers each week. I was no longer in an arena, but a small stone church building that’s almost 200 years old. Our sound system isn’t state-of-the-art, and sometimes the speakers crackle, but as we sang in worship that morning — just those seventy-four voices  — I could feel God with me.

I felt God’s presence tangibly, powerfully, and profoundly — both in an arena in Atlanta and in my small church in Ontario. God’s presence isn’t available only in big conferences, but also in a small and faithful congregation who come week after week.

But what about when you can’t feel God’s presence? Maybe you’ve been to both the glamorous conference and the small church building; maybe you’ve collapsed on your knees on your apartment floor or you’ve hidden yourself in your bedroom closet; maybe you’ve prayed faithfully with a group of friends or gone to Bible study week after week — and maybe even in all of that, you haven’t felt the presence of God.

It can be easy to believe that when we can’t feel His presence, God is no longer with us. 

But God’s presence is not always a feeling. 

God’s presence is not dictated or always detected by our feelings, our fickle hearts, or our moods. His presence is not mandated by how loud the music is at our church service or if the sound equipment is top-notch. 

I am thankful — deeply and genuinely grateful — every time God gives me the grace of feeling His presence. 

But my feelings don’t control whether or not God is with me. His presence is constant. He is with me even when I don’t acknowledge Him, even when I don’t fall on my face in gratitude for Him. He is within me and beside me. He promised us He’s Emmanuel — God with us. He came to dwell as close as anyone possibly could, in the womb of a woman, and then He gave us His Spirit to live within us. 

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” The psalmist once uttered these words, and you and I could utter the same.

You cannot escape from God’s presence — in the highest heights or the lowest depths — even if you can’t feel a thing. C.S Lewis once wrote, “God’s presence is not the same as the feeling of God’s presence and He may be doing most for us when we think He is doing least.” 

When you can’t “feel” His presence, perhaps God is inviting you into something else: trust.

To trust that no matter your feelings, God is present. 

To trust that no matter what comes, God is near. 

To trust that no matter where or how you worship, God is worthy of it all.

 

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

Stop and Ask God for Help

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What would you do if you were told you could no longer pray to God? And if you did? You would be killed — by ravenous lions. It’s an extreme situation to imagine, but that’s exactly what happened to Daniel. Local officials were threatened by Daniel’s abilities, favor with the king, and growing power, so they advised King Darius to put a law in place prohibiting prayer to anyone besides him. The leaders did this knowing that Daniel was loyal to Yahweh, the one true God of Israel.

While most of us live in places where we enjoy immense religious freedoms, we can all relate to circumstances coming our way that we can’t predict, control, or change. That’s where Daniel found himself. And he had a choice: he could concede to the new law of the land to ensure his own safety, he could run away from the place God had called him to serve, or He could trust God’s goodness and power over man’s.

What an encouragement to read what Daniel chose:

“But when Daniel learned that the law had been signed, he went home and knelt down as usual in his upstairs room, with its windows open toward Jerusalem. He prayed three times a day, just as he had always done, giving thanks to his God. Then the officials went together to Daniel’s house and found him praying and asking for God’s help.”
Daniel 6:10-11

Daniel was a man of prayer. A person who sought God at all times — regularly when life felt manageable and faithfully when life seemed impossible.

It’s definitely worth your time to read all of Daniel chapter 6 and see what happened after the officials caught Daniel defying the new law and how God came through for Him in a miraculous way! But for today, right now, let this story be a reminder to pray. Whatever feels like it might overwhelm you, crush you, be the end of you . . . start there.

Thank God for who He is and ask Him for the help only He can give. 

We’d be honored to come alongside you in the comments.

Undeserved Kindness

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“When we were utterly helpless, Christ came at just the right time and died for us sinners. Now, most people would not be willing to die for an upright person, though someone might perhaps be willing to die for a person who is especially good. But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.”
Romans 5:6-8

Several years ago, while in a frazzled hurry, I hit a parked car. “Mommy, did you crash?! Did you break our car?” my little boys shouted from the backseat. I wasn’t worried about dinging our well-loved (read: beat up) minivan. But when I got out and saw the sizable dent in the shiny red bumper of the new SUV I foolishly hit, my heart sank into the pit of my stomach.

With hot tears stinging my eyes, I rifled through my purse for a pen and a paper. All I could find was my Walmart shopping list and a green crayon. So over the words bread and cereal, I scribbled a heartfelt apology along with my name and phone number so the car owner could call me.

Surely the bumper would have to be replaced, probably to the tune of a thousand dollars. I felt so stupid. So sorry. So ashamed. For days, a lump rose in my throat every time my phone beeped or rang. But the red SUV owner never called.

A couple of weeks passed. One day I answered the phone without thinking. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Mary. I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to call but I just wanted to thank you for the note you left on my car,” the unfamiliar voice said. It took a minute to register.

“Oh my goodness, Mary. Thank you for calling. I’m so very sorry I hit your car. Let’s talk about repairing the damage,” I said.

“Oh, not at all dear. I just wanted to tell you I appreciated your kind note,” she replied.

“Oh, Mary, are you sure? I feel awful about it.”

“Don’t you worry at all. I could hardly see a thing,” she assured me. “I’m just thankful for your wonderful little note. I hope you and your family have a blessed day.”

Now tears streamed down my face for a different reason.

Jesus has been my Savior for 35 years. I grew up in the church and I’ve read my Bible regularly for two decades. But the thing that helped me truly understand the depth of God’s loving-kindness and grace wasn’t a sermon or theological discussion. It was a lady named Mary calling to say I didn’t have to fix her banged-up bumper.

Romans 5:8 (NIV) tell us, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” This verse sums up the power and beauty of undeserved kindness in the greatest display ever made.

Undeserved. That’s the undercurrent of God’s great story of redeeming His people. He did what He did not have to do for the sake of love.

Kindness is not something we earn or deserve. Kindness is the overflow of love. Compassion and mercy in action. That’s who Jesus is and how He lived. That’s the life He’s calling us to live too.

TODAY: Instead of demanding that the one who wronged you make it right, offer the mercy of undeserved kindness.

-Written by Becky Keife, adapted from her (in)courage book, The Simple Difference.

 

When the world’s problems loom large and your ordinary life stretches you thin, is it still possible to be a difference-maker? Absolutely! One small, intentional, extravagant act of kindness at a time. The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact by Becky Keife will help you to stop getting buried in busyness and distraction and discover countless opportunities for impact right where you are.
Rather than trying to do more, learn how to see more: more of the people in front of you, more of God’s lavish love for you, and more of His power within you. Grab a copy now. We pray it blesses you.

 

You Don’t Have To Be Useful

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When my kids were tiny, they loved Thomas the Train and all his friends. I loved watching them click the magnets together to make long, colorful lines of trains, and all the train noises they made as they moved them along the wooden tracks. I could still tell you all of their names. Hiro and Percy were my personal favorites. Those toy trains are still treasured — we keep a bin full of them to hopefully pass on to our kids’ littles someday.

In the television series and books, there’s a label that Sir Topham Hatt, the train conductor, consistently gives to these beloved trains as a measure of their value. He calls Thomas, and those he approves of, “really useful” engines.

I remember reading that description in one of the books and thinking about how good it feels to be useful, while simultaneously feeling like something didn’t sit well about striving for that affirmation. The trains beam when they hear Sir Topham Hatt say they are really useful.

I can picture myself beaming over a similar affirmation. I’m sure I’ve chased after affirmations like that before. No matter how old we are, most of us want to feel the weight of our true value. We want to be assured that we matter. It can be so easy to lose our way and forget that our value and worth isn’t something that can slip away, nor something that we have to prove.

Eventually, I remember having to stop in the middle of reading one of those familiar stories aloud, and tell my son that being useful isn’t our purpose; our measure of usefulness doesn’t increase or decrease our value as image bearers who are loved by God. I wanted to make sure he knew that God is not like Sir Topham Hatt, and honestly, I need the reminder too. I find this message of praising usefulness consistently wrapped around everything in our culture like a security blanket.

It sneaks up on us in our friendships when we find ourselves seeking to be the one who’s most needed. It follows us into motherhood like a phantom of the perfect mom who would never have kids who behave that way or struggle this way. It shows up in our communities and our ministry efforts when we sign up or raise our hand while secretly hoping others will notice how often we give of ourselves in the name of love, instead of from an overflow of being loved.

We all have Sir Topham Hatts in our lives (sometimes it’s us). The characters may change over time, and so might the settings. What’s elevated as most useful and good can change too, and I think that makes it even harder to see the lie woven alongside of half-truths. I easily forget that my worth is unchangeable and my value is inherent. My usefulness or lack of doesn’t impact my value as an image bearer.

Everything about Jesus tells us that our worth isn’t dependent on what we do or don’t do, how much we help or fail to, and what we achieve or not. Even in Jesus’ own life, God the Father says He is loved and pleased with Jesus before He begins preaching, telling stories, leading, and healing the sick. “And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my dearly loved Son, who brings me great joy” (Matthew 3:17).

Being delighted in and loved is the spiritual womb that Jesus’ ministry is birthed from.  It’s the intimate place He goes back to again and again throughout His ministry and it’s the place He offers us to begin from and return to as well.

The trains we keep in our bin are full of memories. Watching my kids build and play, make funny train noises and voices, and enjoy themselves was delightful because their joy and mere presence have immeasurable worth. There’s nothing useful about it.

Sister, your joy and mere presence have immeasurable worth too.

You are perfectly loved.

You have inherent value.

You have nothing to prove.

You do not have to be useful; only loved.

 

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