God Hears Your Voice

God Hears Your Voice

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In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice;
    in the morning I lay my requests before you
    and wait expectantly.
Psalm 5:3

There is something powerful about starting our day with our hearts and minds fixed on Jesus. Whether you wake up before the sun ascends from the horizon or when it’s high the high sky. Whether you wake up perky and cheerful or groggy and grumpy, you get to choose the first thing you will do. 

Will it be to turn on the news, check your email, or scroll Instagram? Or will it be to tune your heart to God’s voice?

In Psalm 5, David declares with confidence that God hears his voice. We can have the same confidence. We can trust that whether we whisper or weep or shout or praise, God hears us. Like an attentive parent always listening for their children’s voices, so God is eagerly waiting for the sound of our voices. He loves it when His daughters call out to Him.

So let’s follow the psalmist’s lead today and speak to the Lord. Let’s tell God what we need and wait expectantly for Him to answer. 

 

True Confession

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Even now—
this is the Lord’s declaration—
turn to me with all your heart,
with fasting, weeping, and mourning. Tear your hearts,
not just your clothes,
and return to the Lord your God.
For he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger,
abounding in faithful love, and he relents from sending disaster.
Who knows? He may turn and relent
and leave a blessing behind him,
so you can offer grain and wine
to the Lord your God.
Joel 2:12-14

I sat on my friend’s couch, looking at the sweet women in my small group. We were discussing the chapters we’d read in the last week, and it was time.

Nobody would know if I didn’t speak up. Though we’d been talking about the parts of the book that had encouraged and convicted us most, they had no idea how God had used one small paragraph to remove the scales from my eyes and pierce my heart with fiery truth. I didn’t have to confess. But it was time.

I took a deep breath and blurted it out. I told them how I’d thought of a friend who needed to read a specific point in our book — and how God had straightened me right up, making it clear in my heart that I was the one who needed that message. I told them how He’d brought to mind a situation in which I was the guilty party, in which I had deliberately disobeyed God’s commands.

Eyes downcast, I assured them I’d learned my lesson. I apologized, aware that I’d probably disappointed them. Their response was so kind. They understood how hard it can be to love others the way God calls us to. But like best friends do, they offered accountability alongside their grace and mercy. And in that moment, when they forgave me but didn’t excuse my actions, I realized how long it had been since I had sincerely confessed a sin.

Of course, I apologize for mistakes all the time. And certainly, in quiet moments in a church service or the carpool line or the shower, I might be hit with conviction. But in the same breath I utter a quick “sorry,” I immediately move into gratitude for forgiveness and fresh mercies, vowing to try harder and do better next time.

Facing my sin that morning, I saw clearly my need for true confession, for the fasting and weeping and mourning that comes when we recognize just how far from holy we are. Don’t get me wrong! I don’t think God intends for us to wallow in our regret, to stay stuck in the mud of our mistakes without hope or healing. He is, after all, a God of forgiveness and mercy. He’s a God who loves us so much He sent His Son to take the punishment for our sins. But if we don’t acknowledge our brokenness or the severity of our sins, if we shrug them off as no big deal or assume it’s all good because we are forgiven, we’re missing the point. We’re missing the point of what Jesus did for us on the cross, and we’re missing the blessing of feeling the weight of our sin lifted off of us.

If it’s been a while since confessing your sin caused you to mourn before you rejoiced over God’s grace, I invite you to join me in a posture of humble repentance this Lent season. Let’s spend the next few weeks reflecting on God’s goodness while also taking a hard look at ourselves. And when we see all the ways we fall short of the glory of God, let’s not sweep our grief or waywardness under the carpet. Let’s be honest about it and believe that we aren’t bearing the burden of them ourselves — God bore them for us on the cross. Let’s allow that reality to sink in.

Let us prepare for the wonder of the resurrection by remembering just how much we need it. Let us turn to the Lord with hearts truly broken over our transgressions, more grateful than ever for His abounding love and forgiveness.

God, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I’ve taken Your lavish grace for granted, overlooking and underestimating my sin. Please forgive me. Please bring to mind the things I need to confess and give me the courage to turn them over to You. Thank You, Lord, for loving me so much that You died for my every sin. Thank You for not being content to leave me in my mess, for remembering me even when I forget how much I need You. Thank You, Jesus. Amen.

Excerpt from Journey to the Cross: Forty Days to Prepare Your Heart for Easter by Mary Carver.

It’s not too late to have a meaningful Lenten season. Let us send you a FREE sampler from our Lenten devotional, Journey to the Cross! Journey to the Cross: Forty Days to Prepare Your Heart for Easter was written with women of all stages in mind so that we can all better experience the power and wonder of Easter with intentionality and depth. Also, join us daily in our Instagram stories for a brief passage, prayer, or Scripture from Journey to the Cross. We hope it will bless your Lenten season.

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How to Be Countercultural and Cheer Each Other On

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If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it, and if one part is honored, all the parts are glad.
1 Corinthians 12:26 (NLT)

My phone dings and I see her text: “Could you read something I wrote? I don’t know if it’s any good, but I wanted to see if you could just take a look and tell me what you think.”

I could hear the hesitancy in her words and how much courage it took for her to ask. We had met each other at a conference, and from our brief interactions, I knew she had stories to tell, pain to express, and wisdom to lead with. We noticed each other in a breakout session for writers interested in getting published, and afterward, we talked in hushed tones about our hopes for where our writing would go. The writing world and its nuances were new to us, and we parted ways holding those hopes for each other.

Eventually, I became an editor, and I watched from afar as her leadership took her places. I witnessed her voice become louder and stronger as she processed the current social climate through her newsletters. I could see that she was becoming freer, more herself, and less afraid of what people would think of her.

And so was I.

Her text was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. She shared how she had been keeping up with me as well and thought she’d take a step of faith by reaching out. I was honored to be entrusted with a first read of her writing, and I agreed to take a look and get back to her soon.

I wasn’t prepared for her gift of words. She wrote with precision and power, beauty and hope. She didn’t shy away from naming her pain, and her pastoral and prophetic leadership shined through her stories. I was blown away by her natural talent, and I texted her immediately to tell her so.

She responded, “Really? You think so?” Her lack of confidence boggled my mind, and I sent back ten yeses in all caps with way too many exclamation marks. I assured her I wasn’t just saying it because she was a friend. I genuinely believed she should be writing and getting published.

We went back and forth about her essay a couple of times, but it wasn’t until years later that I received another text: “The essay we worked on got published in a book!”

I squealed in delight at this news. Her success wasn’t only about her but also about the many other women — particularly women of color — who would see her name in a book and know what was possible for them too. Her joy was my joy.

First Corinthians 12:26 says, “If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it, and if one part is honored, all the parts are glad.” And Romans 12:15 simply says, “Be happy with those who are happy” (NLT). In Christ, we are intricately intertwined and interdependent on one another. Because we are made for community and placed in community, we cannot separate our grief or our joy from that of others.

In a world and time when social media and celebrity culture hype certain people over others, it’s easy to feel envious of someone else’s success. Those feelings are understandable and shouldn’t be shoved down in order to celebrate others. Instead, we can bring our honest selves before God, confessing our hurt, disappointment, and anger, acknowledging our own desire for success, and letting God be a balm for us. He can realign our hearts to His, remind us that together we make up the body of Christ, and teach us to be glad when another is honored.

We can be countercultural by cheering each other on, and in doing so we participate in the joy that God has for us all.

I relished in my friend’s news. I was so proud of her work, her persistence, and her increasing belief in herself. I had the privilege of watching her growth like a time-lapse of a seed becoming a plant, and my delight was just a glimpse of God’s rejoicing over her. And from my vantage point, I could see that this was just the beginning.

God, thank You that there isn’t a limited amount of joy to go around and that one person’s success doesn’t cancel out another’s. You are not a God of scarcity but of abundance. I confess that there are times when I have a hard time cheering someone else on when I’m not in the same place or position as they are. But I want to learn to participate in their joy as You are inviting me to do. Thank You for creating us to be the body of Christ so that gladness can be multiplied instead of hoarded. Amen.

This piece was written by Grace P. Cho and published in Empowered: More of Him for All of You.

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You Are Not Collateral Damage

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Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it? Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert.
Isaiah 43:19 CSB

 

To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair.
 Isaiah 61:3 NLT 

 

I want to share a tender, still-in-progress story with you.

Never, ever did I think I’d be one to write about “church pain”, spiritual abuse, or even how to integrate into new faith communities. But here I am. (To be clear, it’s not Jesus causing the pain or doing the harm. It’s the broken people, like me and like you. There’s no escaping our sin, and all too often it sadly seeps out from those in authority.)

I’ve mentioned parts of my painful and sad and totally unexpected story online, and every time I do, friends and strangers reach out to let me know I’m not alone. I’m loved. I’m welcome. And that so many have their own version and story of the pain church has caused.

I’m both grieved and grateful to know I’m not the only one with a work-in-progress story. Here’s mine.

At 40 years old, I’m attending a new church for the first time in my life.

See, I interned at a church in college, then worked there after graduation, joined as a member, and was fully embedded into the community for the next twenty years. I was married there. Baptized my kids there. Worshipped there. I eventually left my position on staff, but then my husband began working there. He led worship every Wednesday, oversaw the volunteer ministry, and was the glue of the community during Covid. I started and then led mom’s and women’s groups for years. There was hardly a volunteer position I hadn’t held. And our kids were loved, comfortable, and felt at home in those church walls.

But throughout a particular season when we were between called pastors and had interims leading, there was discord. My beloved volunteer team was disbanded, and our tasks redistributed. The moms and women groups I’d led were removed, just a header in the Facebook group remaining. The treatment of some staff members became harsh and erratic. And finally, last summer, my husband’s job was abruptly eliminated. It’s accurate to say when his job was eradicated, our family needed to leave. The job change was not communicated to the congregation, so we didn’t get to say goodbye or thank you — and no one had the chance to say goodbye or thank you to us either.

It was one of the most painful seasons of my life.

And my kids. After we told them we wouldn’t be returning to the church they knew and loved, as their tears fell, they asked where they would go to Sunday school. I wanted to tell them, “Nowhere. We’re done with church.”

I didn’t say that though. My husband and I prayed and talked through tears of our own. Could there be new life for us in a faith community?

We called a friend who was plugged in at a church nearby. We watched their services online, attended in person, and signed up the kids for Sunday school. The first day we walked in there were people we knew from school and sports, even some of the kids’ friends, and it felt like love from the Lord.

Each week I now meet new people, corral my toddler, learn new traditions, re-learn what church looks like, and encourage my kids to do the same.

Unsurprisingly, it’s come with a LOT of feelings.

Some are good. We’ve been very warmly welcomed in. There are fun events for the kids, chances to meet and get to know other adults, and a wonderful team of pastors who shepherd well. To our absolute surprise, other families from our old church left “with” us and several of them attend this new church too, sitting alongside us once again in the pews, which brings me to tears right there in the sanctuary. We very much feel we are in the right place, which is a massive blessing we weren’t even looking for.

And of course, some of the feelings are really, really hard. The first time my husband played and sang with a praise band again, I bawled. The first Christmas service we attended, holding candles and singing Silent Night, I bawled. The first time I attended a new mom’s group, I bawled. The first time we ate dinner there (something we used to do weekly), I bawled, right over my sloppy joes.

Lots of tears. Lots of anger. Lots of grief.

The pain isn’t only the freshness of still-healing wounds. It’s seeing life continue at our old church and feeling like the people we loved who remain there have “gotten over it.” It’s seeing them breathe a sigh of relief that “the difficult season is over”, and they can move on.

Which feels like me and my family are collateral damage. Brushed away, buried behind painful memories, and considered a symbol of a time no one wants to remember.

I’ve never felt so dispensable. Expendable. Disposable.

And yet, I know deep in my heart that I’m not. That there’s space both for that congregation to enter a new (hopefully healthier) season, and for me not to look back. There’s space for us both to be where we need to be.

Friends, writing this takes grit I didn’t think I possessed. And I mean beyond my gritted teeth, which I also have. There’s not going to be a nice tidy bow at the end here, because I’m processing with you in real-time, and healing takes time — a lot of it.

But God promises beauty for ashes. Dancing for mourning. Streams in the desert. And God delivers. So even as we heal, cry, and grieve… we hope.

Because we are not collateral damage. We are beloved, no matter what. Beloved. Worthy of belonging. And never, ever disposable.

 

 

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Love and Then Some

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My favorite spot as a four-year-old was under the tamarind tree in our front yard, playing with coconut shells from my mom’s kitchen. I could spend hours pretending to cook in the shade of that giant tree. Once in a while, I would play in my cousin’s yard across the street, throwing rocks at the baby mangoes and watching them fall off the branches. I loved those sour mangoes, especially when they were sprinkled with some salt and chili powder. We would also find little wildflowers; my favorites were the tiny ones that looked like daisies.

Growing up in India, I didn’t have a lot of store-bought toys. I was always exploring nature and creating fun with the things I found outside. Now, before you feel bad for me and imagine scenes from the movie Slum Dog Millionaire, let me give you the full picture. I was actually born into an upper middle-class family in India. I had everything I needed. My dad worked in the middle east and my mom’s entire family lived in the USA. I was attending a private Catholic school and grew up with maids, nannies, and a driver.  I wasn’t really missing anything. But sometimes you don’t know what you are missing until someone shows you.

One summer, my mom’s aunt was visiting from America, and she brought a gift for me; it was a baby doll. It was fair, with big brown eyes and brown yarn for hair. That Cabbage Patch doll became my favorite toy. We were inseparable. I took that little doll everywhere until eventually she was no longer fair, but looked more like me! There is something magical about a little girl and her baby doll. I never knew it until I got her.

I didn’t realize until much later in life that Cabbage Patch dolls were super popular in America around the time I got mine. My great-aunt could have just bought me a random doll from the dollar store and I wouldn’t have known the difference, but she was so kind and generous that she got this little girl who had never seen a baby doll, the same doll that all the other little girls wanted.

Her gift is one that I often think about because it was more than just a doll for me. It was an act of kindness. When we think of kindness, we think of giving someone what they need or want. Kindness is so much more. When we extend kindness to people, we are showing them what they deserve, whether it is dignity, honor, or love. I didn’t need a baby doll or even know to want one, but my aunt believed that every little girl deserves to have one. And she chose the best for me to remind me that I am loved.

So I define kindness as “Love, and then some.”

Jesus lived out this “love, and then some” kindness. When Jesus encountered the woman with the issue of blood, we see this displayed so well. This woman was desperate for healing and her faith brought her to Jesus. “She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, ‘If I touch even his garments, I will be made well’” (Mark 5:27-28).

Her act of faith came to fruition, as she got her healing at that moment. Her story could have been over at this sentence but Jesus stops, looks at her, and waits for her to share her story. Jesus was on His way to save a little girl who was on her deathbed — He didn’t have to stop. He already knew this woman’s story because He is God, but He made space for her to share in front of that crowd. Do you see His kindness towards her? Due to her illness, society labeled her as unclean, so she probably lived alone, rejected by her community, and hidden like she didn’t matter. She felt unworthy to touch Him, so she settled to touch the hem of his garment, the part that would have been dirty from dragging on the ground. She came to Him needing physical healing, but Jesus showed her “love and then some” as He extended kindness to give her dignity, calling her “Daughter.”

Jesus gave her what she was really missing.

He does the same for us. Jesus didn’t just die to save us from eternal damnation; His generous kindness, mercy, compassion, grace, and love are with us every single day. In the original language, all of those words are summed up as hesed; the Holy Spirit is the ultimate gift of hesed, because He is God with us, dwelling in us to remind us that we are children of God. As it affirms in Romans 8:16, “The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.”

Like the little girl who didn’t realize what treasure her heart had been missing, like the woman who suffered alone for twelve years — we all go through seasons of not knowing what we really need. Whether you are lonely or doubting or in pain, the Holy Spirit whispers your name, Daughter. You are beloved. Lean into His voice today and be filled up with God’s “love and then some.”

 

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Chasing God’s Glory

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“Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory,” Mama sings. 

Glory?, Zayla thinks, wrinkling her nose, “Mama, we talk and sing about glory at church, but what exactly is glory?”

“Well, that’s a good question,” Mama says with a broad smile. “Let’s go look for it.” 

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These are the opening lines to my new children’s book, Chasing God’s Glory. When my three daughters were little, we started going on glory-chasing hunts together. This was the way we would lift our heads to see God at work on ordinary days and difficult days. 

The word glory is mentioned more than 500 times in Scripture. If we study the scriptures that mention it, we discover God’s glory is the very essence of who God is, His character. Glory is what sets God apart. It’s the way God reveals Himself to us. It’s His presence. 

Back in 2014, I chose the word glory as my word of the year. Little did I know that this single, five-letter word would be the thing God would use to transform me, inspire me, lift me, and carry me through the most difficult year of my life. This would be the beginning of tracing His glory story in the most unexpected narrative.  

I had to train myself to notice  God’s glory around me through tragedy and triumph. That was the year my husband was diagnosed with stage four cancer. That was the year my lover leaped into Heaven – the ultimate Glory – leaving me a widow with three small children. That was the year I experienced God’s glory in little girl giggles, home-cooked meals, and road trips. That was the year He showed up for us through our community who served us, fed us, collected money for medical bills, and lifted us. 

God has shown me that glory is the very beginning of the story and also the grand finale. This one word is used throughout the Bible as another word for His presence, majesty, beauty, creation, and heaven. Many of the heroes of our faith from Moses to Mary, from Isaiah to Paul, came to understand His glory in profound ways. 

I heard a sermon where the pastor talked about how we are called to be “glory chasers.” Pastor Mitchel Lee’s phrase sparked something deep inside me. He argued that we humans were put on this earth to discover God’s glory and reflect it back to God and those around us. We are to live and work and run for God’s glory.  

Now nine years later, I’m still a glory chaser. I’m still looking for God in my every day. I’m tracing His faithfulness through every piece of my past. I’m leading others up the trail to unearth His glory for themselves. 

I believe God’s glory is a frame, a way for us to view the Bible and, more importantly, our lives. Jesus tells Martha in John 11:40, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” This is His way of urging her to seek His glory. 

Jesus knows He is about to perform a miracle. He knows He is about to raise His friend Lazarus from the dead. Martha, like so many of us, is focused on what is right in front of her. 

Now when I am overwhelmed by the breathtaking colors of a sunset waltzing over ocean waves, I count it a picture of His glory. When I see the intricate beauty of a snowflake, I name it as His glory. When I am caught up in a heart talk with a dear friend, I believe the encouragement I find there is just another tangible example of His glory.  

Glory-chasing has become a habit for me. It’s the way I breathe. It’s the way I move forward one step at a time. It’s my new life purpose. I find myself framing everything by these two questions:  

  • How can I trace God working for His glory in my present circumstances?  
  • How can I reflect His glory to others through my actions and attitude today? 

Through this new children’s book, my heart is to teach kids of all ages to chase after God’s glory in the world.  

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“I think I’m starting to get it,” Zayla says. “Is glory all these things God created?” 

Mama nods. “It’s a reflection of who He is and how He’s working in the world.”

“Chasing God’s glory is fun! Can we do it again tomorrow?” Zayla asks before she drifts off to sleep. 

____

Award-winning author Dorina Lazo Gilmore-Young’s rich multicultural story and Alyssa De Asis’ vibrant artwork make Chasing God’s Glory both a celebration and an invitation as you and your children become glory chasers right where you are!

When Zayla asks her mom to describe God’s glory, Mama knows it’s time for an adventure! Together Mama and Zayla discover how sunrises and dancing, green peppers and daffodils, kind words and loving hugs, are all reminders of God’s glory around us every day.

We’re so excited for this adorable and much-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 Dorina this weekend on the (in)courage podcast. Don’t miss it!

 

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*Giveaway open to US addresses only and ends at 11:59 pm central on 3/24/23. Winner will be notified via email. Please allow 4-6 weeks for book to arrive.

Church Hurt and the Way Forward

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Church hurt. We’re all familiar with that term these days. The past few years have been filled with story after story of hurt, harm, and even severe abuse at the hands of trusted churches and leaders. If you have been a part of any local church body for any length of time, you have probably experienced some form of hurt. It may have been something that you were able to easily move on from or something that has caused almost irreparable damage.

I met with a sweet friend recently for lunch. We used to attend the same church. I transitioned to a new church almost five years ago. We hadn’t seen each other in years until her family recently visited my church.

During lunch, we had the usual catch up conversation. And then we moved on to talk about how our seasons at our previous church had both ended. The details were a bit different, but the center of it was the same. In many ways and for many years, we both had invested our whole lives into to the work of the church. We served. We gave. We led. We showed up early and stayed late. We did so out of our love for Jesus and for His Body. We did so not expecting compliments or compensation.

But in the end, there was a lack of care for us in our times of need. There was no generosity directed our way. There were no prayers offered up on our behalves. There was no concern for our well being. There was no one showing up to be the hands and feet of Christ to us.

We each walked away hurt and angry and disillusioned by the group of people that we believed to be family. When we are wounded by those we consider family, it hits us differently than an acquaintance or stranger. It hits deeper and lasts longer. My friend and I have walked an all too familiar road that many of you have walked.

It’s a long road, full of questions, doubts, worry, and tears. But, this road doesn’t last forever. There is actually a light at the end of this road. It’s the light of hope. It’s the light of Jesus.

Several years later, my friend and I are further down this road, further into the light, further into hope. She and her family took time together and let the Lord bring healing. They are now on a journey with the Holy Spirit to find a body of believers where they can belong, be equipped, be encouraged, be loved, be challenged, and serve.

The way forward down this road isn’t quick or easy, but it is filled with the grace of God. His grace empowers us to not be overwhelmed by our suffering. His grace equips us to learn how He desires His Body to function. His grace enables us to not become bitter at His sons and daughters. And His grace shows us how to show love and grace to those who have hurt us and to those in His Body who have had nothing to do with hurting us.

I began thinking of how the Lord has walked me down this road of healing over the past few years. I want to be able to share the truth of His Word that has brought such hope and healing to me.

There are several Scriptures that remind us that the Body of Christ is one Body, but made up of many members. First Corinthians 12:12 says, “For just as the body is one and has many parts, and all the parts of that body, though many, are one body—so also is Christ.” 

The older I get, I know that we are never called to live life with Jesus entirely alone. We are called to live in community as Jesus did. He lived with parents and siblings. He lived in a town. He lived with the twelve disciples as they did life and ministry together.

Jesus experienced hurt from people throughout His whole life and yet He never wavered in His call to be in community. He never let bitterness or offense or anger determine His level of involvement with His Bride. He loved unconditionally and served joyfully despite what His human feelings may have been leading Him to do.

Colossians 3: 12-16 describes the Christian life: “Therefore, as God’s chosen ones, holy and dearly loved, put on compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another if anyone has a grievance against another. Just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you are also to forgive. Above all, put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity. And let the peace of Christ, to which you were also called in one body, rule your hearts. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell richly among you, in all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another through psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.”

Regardless of what others do to us, we are not responsible for their actions. We are only responsible for our own. This looks like not seeking revenge or slandering or gossiping about people or churches or ministries. It looks like praying for them and showing them kindness even when we don’t want to. It looks like being patient and forgiving when it’s easier not to. We can share our pain with trusted friends while still showing honor to those who have caused the pain.

Even though there are times when I’m not crazy about people, I know I need them. I know that God’s heart for us is to be in fellowship with one another. Though hurt may come, we also know that Jesus has suffered all that we have. We can rejoice in the fellowship of His sufferings.

If you have walked through any form of hurt from the Body and need healing, I’d love to pray for you! Leave a comment below.

 

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God Loves to Help

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If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You’ll get his help, and won’t be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People who “worry their prayers” are like wind-whipped waves. Don’t think you’re going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open.
James 1:5-8 (The Message)

These might be some of the most relief-giving words in the Bible. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help.” So often in life we don’t know what we’re doing! We don’t know what we’re doing with our career, with parenting a difficult child, with finding the right treatment for a daunting diagnosis. We don’t know how to help a friend understand our perspective or how to move forward from past trauma.

What Scripture is assuring us today is that it’s okay not to know! Because God is here to help.

The NIV translation says it this way, “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you” (James 1:5).

Raise your hand if you’re lacking wisdom today. Ask God for what you need! He is so kind, generous, and faithful to give it. 

 

A Lenten Prayer

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Merciful and loving Father, 

I come to You broken, open, and laid bare. You have searched me and stripped away everything that’s kept me from You, and I’m grateful. You have shown me my sin and reminded me of Your sacrifice for it, and I give You all my thanks. I don’t want to be proud, Lord; banish any remaining pride from my heart. 

This is holy ground that You’ve allowed me to touch, God, and I don’t want to leave. I want to abide in You, to remain in Your presence, to turn away from anything that might come between us. Please keep me humble, Lord. Keep me watchful for the ways the world tries to distract me, and keep my eyes open for opportunities of service so I can display who You are to others. Protect my heart; remind me every day that You are God and I am not.  

I don’t want to leave this season of Lent unchanged, Lord. I don’t want to return to my proud ways, my distracted days. I want to stay right here with You, with not one thing pulling me from You. Please help me stay in this posture, this mind-set, this holy communion with You forever. 

In Jesus’ name I pray, 

Amen. 

Excerpt from Journey to the Cross: Forty Days to Prepare Your Heart for Easter by Mary Carver.

It’s not too late to have a meaningful Lenten season. Let us send you a FREE sampler from our Lenten devotional, Journey to the Cross! Journey to the Cross: Forty Days to Prepare Your Heart for Easter was written with women of all stages in mind so that we can all better experience the power and wonder of Easter with intentionality and depth. Also, join us daily in our Instagram stories for a brief passage, prayer, or Scripture from Journey to the Cross. We hope it will bless your Lenten season.

Get your FREE sampler from Journey to the Cross!

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Today on the podcast — a bonus episode! Listen in as host Becky Keife has a conversation with Melissa Horvath, author of the Go For It! devotional. Listen at the player below, or wherever you stream podcasts.

Hope for the Tangled and Exhausted Soul

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I wake up from a solid eight hours and I feel like a wreck. Again, shadows of once full-color dreams linger at the corners of my mind. I can no longer make out the precise shapes but I know they were jagged, intense, chaotic, oppressive.

In my middle-of-the-night turmoil, I fluttered awake just enough to realize that I was covered in sweat — again. The nape of my neck wet, perspiration dripping between my breasts. Was this because of the dreams? Am I starting perimenopause? Is my anxiety medication not working?

I spy a sliver of dusty blue sky out the window. The world is rising and I’m wrestling. I know hope awaits me away from this mattress but I’m so exhausted that I just keep laying here. Keep checking the white numbers on my phone as they slowly change digit by digit. Soon my three boys will be asking for breakfast.

I eventually wrench myself out from my cozy covers, shuffle to the kitchen, turn on the kettle, go to the bathroom, and flinch at my reflection. When did I start looking so haggard?

The couch welcomes me and my favorite cup of lemon tea. I open my Bible at the ribbon bookmark and start reading. Slowly I exhale. I didn’t even realize I had been holding my breath. This is so nice. So peaceful. Why didn’t I get up sooner? It’s my daily refrain.

I hear the creak of my son’s bunk bed as I read, “Rest in God alone, my soul, for my hope comes from him” (Psalm 62:5).

My twelve-year-old thunder stomps down the hallway. He’s still learning how to control his man-sized feet.

I read the verse again like I’m coaching my own soul. Rest in God alone. Your hope comes from Him.

It’s hard to feel at rest when you’re tangled up by invisible strings.

Elias now joins me under my gray fuzzy blanket and rests his wild bedhead on my shoulder. I keep reading.

“Trust in him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts before him.
God is our refuge.”
Psalm 62:8

Trust in Him. I do trust God. But the Spirit gently pricks my heart and asks, Yes, but what else are you trusting? The list comes quickly: My determination. Someone else’s ability to change. Hope that we can turn things around. Just a little more sleep. A little more self-control. Enough boxes checked off.

Trust in Him at all times. All times. Not when I’m healthy and my kids obey and I keep all the balls in the air and I like my hair. God invites me – us, yes He implores us — to trust Him at all times. When sleep eludes or exhausts us. When people let us down or break us open. When that dream keeps getting one step further out of reach or there’s no friend to catch your tears or money in the bank. This is when we get to trust God.

Elias is asking if I’ll put frozen waffles in the toaster for him. I tell him he can do that himself but when they pop I’ll put the peanut butter and syrup on the way he likes it.

Pour out your hearts before Him. Could this be the answer to my tangled soul? The way to rest? I ask the question but I already know the answer because I’ve lived it again and again. God works in our hearts when we take our worked-up soul and bear it all before Him. He knows it all anyway. But there is something sacred and sanctifying in the intentional unraveling of every knot and jumble. It’s where God’s compassionate hands meet us and take over the real work.

Noah does his teenage shuffle out to the living room and plops down on the other couch. I know I better get up, start the coffee, and wake up Jude. But not before I read this:

“God has spoken once; I have heard this twice:
strength belongs to God, and faithful love belongs to you, Lord.”
Psalm 62:11-12

I push myself up off the couch, weak and weary. And it’s okay. Strength belongs to God. He will carry me today in His faithful, loving arms – not minding my dried sweat. I can already feel my soul starting to rest. Can you feel it too?

Becky shares more real stories and hope-filled Scriptures for anxious and weary souls over on Instagram. Follow her at @beckykeife. 

 

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

You Don’t Have to Perform to Be Loved

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I schlep a diaper bag over my shoulder as I navigate my daughter’s wheelchair down the aisle, doing my best to inconspicuously herd four children from the church lobby into the back of the sanctuary. I can see the heads turning and feel the eyes on us. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I whisper, “excuse us” and “pardon me” as my circus scoots into the last row. After morning feats I can only describe as acrobatic, I’ve finally gotten everyone to church.

I glance at my watch. We’re four minutes late, but it feels like a victory all the same. My six-year-old son is ready to perform with the choir for the first time. (They’re called the Church Mice. Yes, it’s adorable.)

I fan myself with the church bulletin as I whisper “good morning” to my parents, who are there to cheer on our budding singer. I wonder where he’s supposed to find the rest of his micey mates. Aren’t they supposed to be gathering toward the front? 

I realize something is off. My eyes dart around the sanctuary, and I spy children dispersed among the pews, already sitting with their families. I remember my husband (the newly-hired pastor) sharing that the kids would sing first thing. My heart drops. I whisper, “Have they already sung?” My mom gives a gentle nod.

I fight tears.

Why can’t I be more put together like everyone else? I wonder.

Another question lingers beneath it: Why am I failing?

It’s easy for us to assume that everyone else has their stuff together. To believe the lie that nobody else is ever late, or misses a deadline, or that not one single other soul is as much of a hot mess as the one you see when you look in the mirror.

A few days after my Church Mice fiasco, a friend told me something over coffee that made me do a spit-take: “I don’t know how you get everything done. You’re so put together.”

Once I was done wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes, I reflected on a hard – and honest – truth:

I’m too hard on myself. And my guess is that you are, too.

As women, we constantly fight external pressure to be the ones that hold things together and present ourselves in a certain way. If we’re not careful, we can even feel the pressure to perform our way into God’s love. This pressure can often lead to deep self-doubt and self-criticism that lures us into the trap of comparison.

Whatever season of life you’re in, chances are you’re holding a lot of things together. You’re doing your best, and if you’re honest with yourself, you feel like it’s not enough – that when you look around, everyone else seems to have cracked the magic code, and you’re still stumbling around, sweaty, and showing up late.

Whether you’re comparing yourself to a neighbor or a stranger on the Internet, it’s all too easy to compare yourself to another (without knowing their full story) and heap all sorts of shame upon your shoulders – the weight pushing you down until you can barely stand.

If you feel like you’re not measuring up, I have good news: You don’t need to.

God’s grace tells us we don’t need to perform our way into belovedness. We do not have to get everything right all of the time. (Spoiler alert: nobody does!) We do not have to present a sheen of perfection. As beloved children of God, we are freed from those trappings.

In Colossians 3:12, we’re told that we are “holy and dearly loved.” And that in light of this, we should clothe ourselves with “compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.”

What would life look like if you had compassion for yourself? How would it reorient your days if you approached your imperfections with kindness and humility? What if you were gentle and extended patience to yourself?

No one is perfect. We all fall short sometimes. But when we hold ourselves up to an unattainable standard and tell ourselves the story that everyone else is nailing it while we’re flailing about, we’re not honoring the truest thing about ourselves: That we are holy and dearly loved.

The next time you realize you’re being tough on yourself, take a breath and consider what God says about you. There is nothing that you could do that would make God love you any more or less. You do not have to hit any certain achievement or spin a billion more plates to gain the love of Christ – His love is a gift freely given. 

The next time you look in the mirror and start silently listing all the ways you’ve failed, remember that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are a child of God.

The next time you’re marveling at how “together” someone else is, remember that everybody struggles. Nobody is immune to the aches of this world, to the groans of humanity.

And if you’re feeling really brave, maybe you can sit with this question: God isn’t demanding you to perform your way into being loved – so why are you demanding it from yourself?

An interesting phenomenon happens when we stop being so hard on ourselves. We start having a lot more grace and understanding for others, too.

I’ll likely be late to church again. Our family life is filled with chaos and unexpected shenanigans – and sometimes I fail as the ringmaster. But when I am gentler with myself, I’m gentler toward my kids. When I remind myself that the truest thing about me is that I’m holy and dearly loved, I remember that truth about others around me, too.

You don’t have to perform any certain type of perfection. You are already holy and dearly loved.

 

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

You Have Great Worth

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For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
Psalm 139:13–14

How amazing is it that you’re here today? The Scripture from Psalm 139 rings with such truth. God has a plan for you and for your life. You are not here by mistake! You were fearfully and wonderfully made. You have great worth! But when others’ opinions creep in, they can make you feel unworthy. It’s easy to find your worth in what others think of you or what they say to you. When you let their opinions or words define you, it breaks you down. This is when the negativity and pain creep in, telling you that you aren’t worthy of happiness, love, and more.

When you start to hear those negative words creep in, hit the PAUSE button. Your worth shouldn’t be found in what others say or think. You are a child of God, born for so many amazing purposes. Don’t let others define you. Don’t let the worry, the comparison, the mean words break down something perfectly curated from above. We all can have bad days, and cruel critics try to fill voids in their own lives by breaking others down.

Remember that they are broken people; instead of fighting back, choose to pray. Ask God to soften their hearts, and pray that they learn to know Him as you do! Often we can think up false truths in our mind of how others perceive us, fueled by our own insecurities, and the evil one knows what those are and reminds us of them. First Peter 5:8 says, “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” Know the source, question when these pop up in your mind, and ask yourself if God would really say that about you. In all of these situations, know your worth isn’t found in these things but in how God sees you! And He loves you just the way you are.

Cling to Him and hold strong, knowing that you are worthy.

GO FOR IT!
Repeat after me: “I am who He says I am. I am a child of God. God has amazing plans for me! I am not what others say or what the negative thoughts say I am, but I am a child of God. He loves me, He knitted me in my mother’s womb, and I am loved. I am worthy!”

Thoughts of the future can quickly bring us anxiety or discomfort, simply because so much is outside of our control. In Go For It! Boldly Live the Life God Created for You, author Melissa Horvath poses the important question: What if we fully trusted the One who does have control? Throughout this book, readers will be deeply encouraged by the reality that God will fulfill His purpose — which means that they can boldly live the life that God has uniquely carved out for them. This book is for all those who want to leave fear behind and step courageously into the future God has lovingly prepared for each one of us! 

This new devotional will empower and encourage you to live the life God created for you. Go For It will inspire you to be the best version of yourself, encourage you with uplifting thoughts, help you focus on the good things God has already given you, reveal His promises for your life, and show you how to boldly live them out in your daily life. Designed with 90 devotions to help you go for it, each devotion begins with a Scripture passage followed by an inspirational message to challenge and encourage you in your work, life, and faith. Devotions end with engaging questions to help you apply the spiritual and practical principles as you partner with God to boldly live each day empowered and equipped by Him.

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

Then join Becky Keife for a conversation with Melissa 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 3/21/23 at 11:59 pm central to US addresses only. Winners will be notified via email. Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery.

Jesus Accepted Help, So You Can Too

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Whenever someone offered to help me with anything, my automatic response used to be, “Oh, you’re so sweet! No, I’m good.” Whether the roots were pride or fear, my brain automatically Google translated any well-meaning “I’d love to help you with” offer into a negative criticism that sounded to me like: “I think you’re falling apart, and clearly, you’re failing at life.”

Once, I wrestled with a dear friend’s loving offer to help me move after prayer and many trusted voices affirmed that it was time for me and my near-adult children to move from our home. My warped Google-translate kicked in as my insecurities fired up. It didn’t take long for me to reply: “Thank you for offering, but I’m good. I can handle it.”

When a friend offers to help, is your knee-jerk reaction the same? What’s puzzling is that most of us love helping others, but we bristle at the thought of them offering to assist us. It’s wild how we can apply one set of beliefs about ourselves yet create a completely different set of beliefs for others in the same situation. How do we give ourselves permission to willingly and joyfully accept help whether we think we need it or not?

My spiritual breakthrough on this accepting-help issue was parked by a single question. As I packed up my children’s books and blankets, tears dripped on the cardboard boxes. I was worried about taking them away from the only home they’d ever known and grieving the circumstances that made our move necessary. Somewhere between stacking one box and preparing another, I heard a clear whisper fill the air around me: Barb, don’t you want your children to see the hands and feet of Jesus working around them on one of the most difficult days of their lives?

The aha moment came when I realized that God didn’t send my friend to help me with boxes and bedsprings. Instead, God was sending her to show my children and me divine signatures of His presence and His hope, which we needed more than a workforce for the move.

In Matthew 4, Jesus endures the trial of Satan’s temptation in the desert for 40 days and 40 nights. Put yourself in Jesus’ weary place. After that experience, the human side of Jesus would have been worn out. If accepting help is hard for you, the final verse of that ordeal offers a powerful insight that can reprogram your automatic response:

“The devil went away, and angels came and took care of Jesus.”
Matthew 4:11

First, we can always cheer when the devil finally leaves us alone, right? However, the inspirational moment in this verse is seeing that the angels came to care for Jesus and that Jesus accepted their help. I can imagine them showing up with warm food, a soft blanket, and their compassionate presence. If Jesus were like me, He would have said, “No, thanks, I’m good” or “There are other people who need help more than me.” But He didn’t do that. Instead, Jesus allowed Himself to be ministered to by the angels. His divine nature wasn’t diminished by accepting help from others. Just as God sent those angels to minister to Jesus, today God sends people to minister to us as well.

What stands out to me is this: Jesus accepted help, so we can and should too.

Could Jesus have gotten Himself together on His own? Yes, but God lovingly sent the angels to minister to Jesus anyway. For all the times we pray and ask God for help, He often sends it through others. The hard part is letting down our guardrails of pride, fear, or embarrassment to receive it.

After my spiritual breakthrough moment and difficult move, I told God that I would say yes to any and all offers from friends over the next thirty days. I wanted to give God every opportunity to reprogram my automatic response and deprogram any lingering pride and fear about accepting help that remained in me. God honored that request and sent more friends to surround us with love and support during that rough time. While we had an experience that I prayed we wouldn’t go through, God sent others to minister to us each step of the way.

This article is by Barb Roose and is featured in Everyday Faith Magazine.

Did you know DaySpring has a magazine? It’s true! And the brand new SPRING issue of Everyday Faith just hit newsstands!

From cover to cover, you will find stories and articles to inspire hope, prompt reflection, and encourage you for the upcoming months. There are beautiful tear-out prayers to share cards, scannable QR codes for bonus goodies, and exclusive Spring Planning Calendars tucked inside!

You care about your faith — that’s why you’re here today! — and Everyday Faith magazine will help you know and share God’s love in fresh, true, and inspiring ways. Pick up your copy wherever magazines are sold and at DaySpring.com. This article is just one of many featured in Everyday Faith magazine, which, by the way, is perfect for reading on your lunch break, bringing to the school pickup line, or gifting to a friend.

And to help you do just that, we’re giving away FIVE sets of magazines — one for each winner and one for them to give to a friend! Leave a comment telling us to whom you’d gift a copy, and we’ll draw five winners.

The giveaway is open to US addresses only and will close on 3/17/23 at 11:59 pm central. 

 

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

Weak Love Is Great Love

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Recently, my husband was blessed with a Sabbatical. Three months of rest, play, and reprieve. After fifteen years of ministry, he was granted some much-needed time off. As a gentle launch into this season of space, the elders gathered to pray. This is a moment that I retrace often. Sam sat encircled by men of great character. As they began to speak a blessing over him, the door edged open.

A man hobbled into the church prayer room. With a walker, he scooted in weak, slow, and short of breath. Only weeks before, he had suffered a stroke that left him with a limp. The left side of his body lost so much strength. This man was Vince, the chairman of the elder board. This not-so-old man originally from Panama dragged half of his body behind him into the room just to pray for Sam. Vince’s voice is strong, vibrant, and has the accent of Morgan Freeman. Through the tremble of his spirit-filled words, he prayed. That night Sam came home and shared this story. He wept recalling the overwhelming love he felt when Vince showed up to pray. The prayer itself wasn’t what was so powerful, it was the person and how he showed up.

I think about this story a lot. It profoundly impacted me.

The needs and speed of everyday life can be so challenging. Caring for my family, church, and community can leave me drained. Often by lunchtime, I crave crawling into bed. I want sleep and silence and to simply be left alone. The demands of life are constant. My soul feels crowded and cramped. Most of the commitments in my life are non-negotiable. It is just the way life is for now. But I keep waiting for a break. I keep waiting for the moment when, after all this effort, my life will flourish. I want that. I want a rich and flavorful life. But, instead, I am depleted, irritable, and grabbing fistfuls of goldfish for lunch.

Most nights, I lay awake reliving my day, play-by-play. I recall all the moments when I showed up half-hearted. How I gave from an empty place. I’ve always thought pouring out from my nothingness was not worthy love. I’ve always thought “good” love came from a place of strength and overflow and more than enough. Good love comes from abundance. But, maybe like Vince, the greatest kind of love comes from a weak place. Great love comes with a limp. It comes with shuffled feet and a faint heart. 

The love I give my kids, community, and Sam doesn’t have to be fancy. In fact, that’s not the love that leaves the most lasting heart impression. The love that comes from a hidden and quiet place, from consistently showing up is the love that leaves the most impact. Love that comes from weakness and emptiness might be the purest kind of love I can offer. I don’t look at my limits as lesser. I look at my limits as my offering.

When I think about love this way, it makes the cross mean so much more. Christ didn’t die from a place of strength but from a place of humility. He didn’t die going out swinging. He died spread out and surrendered. He didn’t die from a place of fullness. He died empty and poured out. God emptied Himself to be with us. We empty ourselves to be with others. Empty is enough.

Perhaps this kind of love is where flourishing really comes from. It doesn’t come from something outside of us, but a deepening dependence on Christ within us. Flourishing isn’t a place to arrive at, but being found by the person of Jesus relating to us. Flourishing is a relationship and it comes by way of weakness, not strength. 

When I offer love, even when I’m tired, it is received as love. When I give my leftovers, it is still a gift. So I offer my crumbs and Christ receives them the way He did the widow’s mite. The widow had nothing but gave everything. I offer my stress and Christ receives me with rest. I offer my weakness and Christ receives me with grace. I keep showing up. I can show up and pray for a friend. I can show up and read a book to my son. I can show up and wrap my arms around someone who is weeping. I don’t have to wait to be full and flourishing before I can love another. I don’t have to wait until I am better, well-rested, or enough. I don’t have to give more than I have. I just give what I have. 

Actually, love offered with a limp is the greatest love I can give. 

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Today we’re thrilled to welcome new voices to the (in)courage podcast! We thank Grace P. Cho for sharing her gifts with us this past year, and we welcome Rachel Marie Kang as the new narrator. Take a listen at the player below, or wherever you stream pods.

For When the Night Feels Long

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It was nearly pitch black — despite being past nine o’clock in the morning — as I drove the long highway into town for a dentist appointment. Only the beam of my headlights allowed me to see the next few feet in front of me. There weren’t even any street lights to light the way.

During the deepest part of winter in the interior of Alaska, the sun doesn’t peek above the horizon until nearly noon. Even then, it swiftly runs back into hiding just a couple of hours later. This near-constant darkness is disorienting at first, but it’s amazing how quickly it becomes normal. Many people head to work or school in the dark and return home without ever having seen the light of day. 

That day, as I drove to town in the blustery blackness, I was unaware of just how accustomed to the lack of sunlight I had become. I fully expected to drive home in that same darkness, so when I climbed back into the car, I was not looking for the light. But as I pulled onto the highway, I was suddenly stunned by the beautiful scene surrounding me. Sprawling fields stretched on for miles under a blanket of freshly fallen snow, glistening in the light. Majestic mountain peaks towered in the distance, painted in pastel pinks and blues, all lit up golden by the morning sun. Suddenly, I could see! 

Like a long winter, the darkness of the world we live in can wear on our souls and obscure our vision. We grow discouraged by endless responsibilities and setbacks, by sin and sadness and a world that seems to be growing darker by the day. We keep marching onward, of course. But, because we’ve been living under a cloud of darkness for so long, eventually we start to forget that a future filled with joy and light is not only possible but promised. We wonder, Is something better really coming?

When you’ve been living in darkness, the light is a miracle. My spirit soared on that drive home as unexpected rays shone down on my face and illuminated the world around me. It reminded me that the sun does, in fact, still exist! It was a declaration to my weary heart that summer will come and, when it does, everyone who lives in places like Alaska where the winter feels a little too long will breathe a collective, soul-deep sigh of relief and race joyfully out to soak up every bit of sunshine they can.  

In summer, God mercifully sends an extra dose of sunlight to Alaska to contrast with the months of darkness — we will have sunlight nearly twenty-four hours a day! There will be midnight baseball games and tee time at two in the morning. We’ll enjoy wild blueberries ripe for the picking, salmon rushes, and kids staying up way past their bedtimes to play outside with friends. The sun will be the star of the show and, after trudging through life without it, it’ll feel like all we need. Even spectacular things, such as fireworks, will lose their allure and be stored away for darker months.

No other light can hold a candle to the sun. No other light but Jesus, that is.

The Bible promises that, because of Jesus, a brighter day is coming for us — a day so bright that we won’t even need the sun anymore! 

“The sun will no more be your light by day,
    nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you,
for the Lord will be your everlasting light,
    and your God will be your glory.
Your sun will never set again,
    and your moon will wane no more;
the Lord will be your everlasting light,
    and your days of sorrow will end.”
Isaiah 60:19-20

Isaiah tells us that on that day, in the presence of the light of the Lord, we will finally be able to see, and our hearts will swell with joy! Malachi, too, echoes this promise:

“But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with
healing in its rays. And you will go out and frolic like well-fed calves.”
Malachi 4:2

There is an ache we all feel as we lumber on through a world where it feels like the darkness of sin and death has gone on too long. We long for the light of heaven — and it is coming! More surely than the rising of the sun, one day soon you and I will breathe an enormous, eternal sigh of relief as the weight we’ve been carrying our whole lives falls away. We will run like children (or baby cows!) into the joys the Lord has planned for us since the beginning of time. We will bask in the brightness and warmth of Jesus who will be the only light we need — and the night will be no more.

For now, the darkness that surrounds us is pervasive. Still, we also know it is temporary. With the glorious hope of endless day secured for us by the God who always keeps his promises, we need not succumb to despair. Instead, let us hold onto hope and live as children of the light as we wait just a little while longer for the coming of the dawn. 

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.”
Hebrews 10:23

Is Peace Really with You?

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“May the Lord of peace himself give you peace always in every way.
The Lord be with all of you.”
2 Thessalonians 3:16

Not once in a while or when you’ve proved yourself worthy. Not when you didn’t yell at your kids or complain to your spouse or talk behind your boss’s back. Not for just an hour on Sunday mornings or when you remembered to pray. But always — that is how often God’s peace is available to us.

How is this possible? Even in cancer wards and divorce court? Even when we’re flat on our face in failure or stuck in bed with depression? Yes, even then and there because the Lord of peace Himself is near.

If you have invited Jesus into your heart, to be the Savior of your soul because you know you simply can’t earn such grace on your own, then you have received the gift of the Holy Spirit. God dwells in us! How truly incredible and utterly miraculous is that?

So if God is peace and God is in you, then peace is yours. Right now. Today. 

Recognizing this reality isn’t a magic wand that will change your circumstances. But it is a promise that will usher you back — again and again and again — to the person of Peace. Father God, Lord Jesus, Holy Spirit.

Yes, the Lord be with all of you.