What Mary, Jesus, and Birthdays Teach Us About Naming Our Needs

What Mary, Jesus, and Birthdays Teach Us About Naming Our Needs

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“I’d love to throw myself a little birthday party this year,” I admit to my husband while schlepping another load of soaked snow pants and dirty mittens into the washer. He stands at the kitchen sink, rinsing lingering hot cocoa and melted marshmallows from our kids’ mugs before loading them into the dishwasher.

I’m embarrassed to admit that amid the holiday hustle and crammed calendars, I’m considering adding a birthday party (For myself! A grown-up!) to our already brimming schedules.

Who has time for that? How selfish could I be?

But still the desire lingers so I text a few friends to see if anyone might be available on an upcoming Friday or Saturday, attempting to coordinate an evening birthday bash at our house. I’m not celebrating a milestone birthday. There’s not anything particularly big to celebrate. And as my fellow December birthdays will tell you, none of our celebrations hold a candle, ya know, to the birth of Jesus.

Visions of charcuterie boards and fizzy drinks dance in my head as it looks like we’ve finally landed on a date a handful of neighbors and friends can make work. A murder-mystery party game has been collecting dust in the corner of my bedroom, and excitement bubbles over as I imagine finally getting to bust it out at my birthday soiree.

The laughs we’ll share! The costumes we’ll wear! The photos we’ll snap!

The email comes soon after.

“You and your children are invited to the PTA’s Elementary Winter Wonderland Dance!”

I scroll to the end to find the party’s date and time.

You guessed it: The same night I’d just managed to secure for my own little celebration. I swallow a swig of coffee and collapse on the couch.

“Maybe our three elementary schoolers won’t want to attend anyway,” my husband offers.

I hear their anticipatory chatter as they tumble out of the bus.

In real-time, my heart seems to shrink two sizes too small. I feel myself morphing into full Grinch mode.

My mind swirls with whispers of resentment like, “Why can’t I ever just have anything for me?” along with guilt-laden musings like, “It was selfish to plan a party for myself anyway.”

Have you ever been left reeling from hopes dashed and plans scrambled?

Maybe you’ve felt foolish for trying to plan something for yourself only to be left unwrapping disappointments. Or perhaps you’ve put everyone else’s priorities in front of you, and now you’re tangled in resentment like a toddler playing in the Christmas tree tinsel.

Complicated experiences and complex emotions are real, especially for those of us who tend to hold everything together for our loved ones throughout the year, particularly during the holidays.

But we’re not doing anyone (our friends, our family, ourselves) any favors by not tending to our own needs.

Caring for others includes caring for ourselves. 

While I did pivot my plans so our family could sip punch together while boogying to “Jingle Bell Rock” in the elementary school gym, I didn’t let my hopes to celebrate my birthday completely fizzle out either. Instead of hoping someone would surprise me with a cake, I called up a local bakery and placed an order myself!

The give-and-take of life together means we pivot sometimes – this is true. Dreams change, and expectations shift as we create spaces for the flourishing of all. But all means all. When we put ourselves on the back burner, rage or resentment will boil over.  

In this season of Advent, we anticipate the arrival of God breaking into our world with the birth of Jesus. It’s cause for celebration! We marvel at Mary, who cared for a little one who, out of the deepest divine love, would change the course of history forever. 

And as we marvel at the manger, I’m also reminded of something that happened when Jesus was older; we’re invited into an interesting interaction between Mary and Jesus.

In John 2:1-11, they’re at a wedding party, and the celebration is running low on wine. Mary, who knows that Jesus could do something about it, mentions the dwindling libations to Jesus. And He performs His first miracle, turning water into wine – good wine, we’re told. 

It was the first time people caught a “glimpse of His glory.”

Milestones bring big feelings. Holidays hold taut the tension of both joy and grief, celebration and disappointment. But perhaps when we, like Mary, name what we want, we can catch glimpses of glory beyond what we could even dream of.

It’s difficult to fathom the passing of time. It’s why we light the Advent candles in anticipation of the birth of Jesus. It’s why we gather around the table and sing together, marking time with cake and candles, friends and family.

Life together is illuminated with the glow of both giving and receiving. Of glorious miracles and mismatched schedules. In the busy schedules and mounting pressure to create picture-perfect birthdays and holidays, let yourself take a breath.

Remember that you are loved by a God who doesn’t desire how much you can do – but calls you beloved because you are.

That’s something worth celebrating.

Find prayers that put words to your ordinary and extraordinary family milestones and holiday celebrations in Kayla’s book To Light Their Way: A Collection of Prayers & Liturgies for Parents.

 

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When You Aren’t In the Mood For Christmas

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I’m just not in the mood.

I don’t have a good reason to be in a funk. I haven’t dealt with hard stories of grieving, hurt or loss or broken relationships like others I know, but I’m still struggling to be in the mood for Christmas. I usually really enjoy Christmas. The specialness of remembering the greatest miracle, making others feel seen and loved, the music, the beauty of decorations, and the thrill of hope. I don’t want celebrating Christmas to turn into a “have-to” but remain a “love-to.”

I keep trying. But I haven’t been able to take a deep breath lately due to an extremely busy season. I feel like I need a good long exhale and about a month on the couch with my feet up before I can even think about Christmas.

I’m tired and I’m not feeling very festive. Maybe you can relate?

I’m trying to be better about noticing when I feel tired, stuck, or emotional about something and ask God what’s going on in my heart and what He wants to reveal to me. Preparing for Christmas is definitely one of those areas that I’ve been asking Him for revelation and help.

I wonder if the feelings I have are part of the point of the manger? Weary. Heavy laden. Tired. Burdened. Distracted. Busy. Not really feeling it. All reasons why Jesus came for God’s people. Jesus — Immanuel, God with us in every feeling and circumstance — is the ultimate reason we have to celebrate God’s goodness.

As I’ve processed my lack of Christmas cheer, God reminded me how He called His people to celebrate Him many times throughout Scripture. Celebrating was a choice, not a feeling, and not always convenient. But God’s people obeyed His specific calls to celebrate because they understood that celebrations, or feasts as they are called in the Bible, were not just about eating certain foods or gathering in particular ways — every feast was meant to point to Jesus.

Guidelines for feasts and festivals are especially prevalent in the Old Testament. For most of my faith walk, I wanted to ignore the Old Testament, thinking it didn’t really apply to my life. But there is such a rich and beautiful story at work when we look at Scripture as a whole and remember that God is the same from the first page of Scripture to the last to how He is present in our lives today.

With just a little research, I’ve learned that the feasts God asked His people to celebrate annually were clues pointing to His Son. These times of celebration and feasting are connected to our being able to celebrate our salvation, the resurrected Savior, and His imminent return. To praise, to sing, to dance, to eat, and to remember. A rhythm of feasts reminded God’s people to make space for Him. To recognize His love and His good plan. It took preparation, planning, and energy to celebrate in the ways God had instructed, but it was worth it because they were inviting God to be with them.

Each feast God created connects us to a way we can celebrate Jesus’ birthday and the hope of His return. Here are a few ideas based on the holy feasts that are helping me get in the Christmas spirit:

Sabbath: I’ve planned ways to simplify my life so I don’t continue to over extend myself. As I accept God’s call to rest, I make space to sit in the quiet so I can hear the Lord and see things from His perspective during this miraculous season.

Passover: I’ve done my next right thing and continued on with putting up our Christmas tree. It’s a lot of work but I feel enveloped in God’s love when I sit in the dark with the glow of the tiny lights and remember how Jesus hung on a tree for me — the cross of Christ reminiscent of the original cross on the doors of those first saved in the first Passover.

Unleavened Bread: I’ve baked in the kitchen with my daughter and been reminded of how Jesus is the “Bread of Life”.

First Fruits: I’m praying through what I can do for someone else this month rather than continuing to think about myself. Sometimes the lack of Christmas spirit is because I forget how to give from what God has given me.

Pentecost: I will set aside time each morning to pour God’s Word into my dry Spirit. To re-read the story of Christmas and prepare my heart for Jesus, asking Him to make a way in my heart and renew me with fresh fire.

Feast of Trumpets: Trumpets were used to call the workers to stop and come to the temple so I will crank up the Christmas tunes and worship in my living room. Let’s make a joyful noice not only because God deserves our praises, but also because we need to sing and dance and celebrate who God is and what He’s doing in us.

Whether you are familiar with biblical feasts or not, we can all ask God to speak to our hearts — through His Word and through the Holy Spirit within us — and guide us in making this season one of meaningful celebration.

It doesn’t matter if presents are perfectly wrapped or if cookies get baked, but it does matter that we devote time to celebrating who God is and the gift of His Son to this weary world. Indeed, that is a reason to rejoice!

How do you choose to celebrate if you’re not feeling very Christmas-y?

 

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I Am Not Superwoman

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“So how was your day?” my husband asks. Our eleven-month-old is sleeping at last and, in the quiet, we unfold our day over the dinner table filled with plates of roasted potatoes and rice.

Well let me tell you, I think to myself, recalling the serpentine to-do list that’s been strangling me all day. I sigh suggestively, settle into my mask of martyrdom, and recite each flurried step of my day. My multitudinous accomplishments, as follows: tackling the small city of dishes that sprang up over the weekend, scrubbing the floor (because, “scrubbing” sounds more Cinderella-like than “wiping”), loading the washing machine with a baby strapped to my body, running (literally) to the bank, waiting on hold with the airline for an hour and a half (emphasis on the time) to confirm details about an upcoming trip. The list goes on.  

When I finish my performance (curtain closed), my husband kindly suggests that I rest this evening. But I bat away his compassionate commonsense. There’s still so much left to do. The truth is there’s always so much to do. At the end of each day I have a bad habit of listing all the tasks I have completed. Not to say that listing all my completed tasks is bad. The bad part, however, is that the list becomes my litmus test for self-worth. The more work I complete, the more valuable I am. In the courtroom of my mind, I (as defendant) offer my litany of all the reasons I’ve earned an evening of rest after a day of hard work. But most often, I (as judge) condemn myself for not having done enough. 

There are always errands I didn’t get to. Always people I forgot to text. Always new needs jutting up like weeds. Constantly. Continually.

My to-do list will never end. Ever. But recently, God’s been showing me a liberating truth. He’s been showing me that my work is not only not enough most days. It’s never enough — and it’s never going to be. 

No matter how many tasks I accomplish during the day, I will never be able to earn God’s kindness, God’s invitation to enjoy His presence while simply sitting on the couch with a cup of chamomile tea. No matter the many hours I volunteer or the many meals I make for hurting church members. No matter the many words of encouragement I give or the many dollars I donate — it will never be enough.  

In offering His body on the cross and rising to breathe again, Christ already accomplished all there is to make us enough in God’s eyes and to enjoy His presence. In one act of cosmic sacrifice, Christ completed the ultimate to-do list for all time. And, if I believe in Him, there are no good deeds or completed chores I can do to make myself more desirable to Him or more worthy of His rest. Any Christ-less, goody-two-shoe attempts to make myself acceptable are garbage. Clothed in the sufficiency of Christ, I am already enough before God.

At the root of my anxiety to configure my worth at the end of each day is a hunger for acceptance. Underneath my litanies of completed tasks is a quaking desire to be loved. Rather than berate myself for all the things left undone at the end of the day, I can remind myself that, in Christ, I am infinitely loved — loved beyond my wildest fantasies or deepest desires. And in that love. . .I can rest. 

That’s not to say that doing good things isn’t essential to a Christ-centered life. Again and again in Scripture, believers are called to action, to offering our time and energy for others, especially the weak, the losers, and those unlikely. The abundance of God’s love should overflow into a continual outpouring of love to our children, spouses, grandmothers, neighbors, and, yes, even and especially the woman behind the cardboard sign at the freeway exit. Even loading the dishwasher and preparing a spaghetti dinner are acts of obedience to Him. 

That’s the key. Obedience. So much of what I expect from myself is not what God expects from me. So much of what I labor over are achievements to prop up my own facade of self-worth, rather than make much of the God whose breath and blood give me the grace to do anything at all.

Many of the tasks He might call me to are things that don’t fit on a to-do list. They appear unexpectedly in the day, are quickly forgotten and largely unnoticed. Snuffling into my son’s neck as he giggles joyously mediates the love of God. My son may never remember this laughter and I certainly won’t win a “Funniest Mama” award, but it is a small act of obedience. And this small act is a sign of the true labor of a Christ-follower. 

My prayer is to live so in tune with the Spirit that I move in step with Him, the tasks He is calling me to. He knows the hours I have. He knows the energy I have. He knows I am most definitely not Superwoman (though I too often try to be).  

But He is Superman. And that is enough. 

The Road to Christ’s Birth

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In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born…
Luke 2:1-6 (NIV)

“Oh,” Mary moaned softly.

Joseph anxiously turned to his wife, trailing along behind him on the back of their donkey. Her face was drawn, her eyes weary from four long days of travel.

“Do you want to walk for a while?” he asked her.

“Yes, thank you.”

Joseph held the donkey with one hand while he helped Mary to the ground with the other. Other members of their caravan of extended family plodded steadily past, anxious to make it through the gates of Bethlehem before nightfall.

“We are almost there,” he said reassuringly.

Mary nodded, smiling weakly.

Within the hour, the walls of Bethlehem appeared as a long line severing the horizon. The promise of a meal and sleeping mat in the comfort of a relative’s home cheered them and they quickened their pace.

Mary and Joseph fell into the silent rhythm of the trail, measuring the last mile of the journey one weary step at a time. At last, as the setting sun bathed Bethlehem in soft golden light, the journey was completed. In the fulfillment of thousands of years of prophecy, the long-awaited Messiah was carried through the gates of Bethlehem, sheltered in the womb of a virgin.

Steadily, Joseph led Mary through the familiar streets to the place called home to his aunts, uncles, and cousins. When he and Mary stepped into the courtyard of the family compound, relatives rushed to meet them, excitedly wrapping Joseph in their arms. One of the children took the donkey’s rope and led it to a trough of water. Mary momentarily forgot her fatigue as Joseph’s aunts joyfully caressed her burgeoning abdomen, each making their own predictions of how much longer it would be until the baby arrived.

Then, the wizened old matriarch of the family stepped forward. She placed one gentle hand on each side of Mary’s face and searched her eyes.

“Ah, daughter,” she said, sighing. “You are weary. Come, you need rest.” Then she placed an arthritic hand on Mary’s stomach and nodded solemnly. “It won’t be long now, my child.”

Mary glanced back over her shoulder to Joseph as she was led to the comfort of a good meal and a soft sleeping mat. She found him smiling at her, the relief evident on his face. She was in good hands.

That night after the evening meal, Mary and Joseph’s sleeping mats were joined with the others that lined the main living room of a relative’s home since the kataluma*, the guest room of the home, was full. Immediately, Mary fell into an exhausted sleep. Joseph, though weary, lay awake lost in dark thoughts of the census report. It represented so much to Israel, little of it comforting. What kind of world would Jesus grow up in? How would the brutal rule of Rome mark His life?

Joseph sighed in resignation. There was so little within his control. But for tonight, Mary and the baby were safe. His wife would not give birth on the side of the road but in the care of his family. Kind and experienced women would help the baby into the world.

And with that comforting assurance, Joseph finally surrendered to sleep.

*Kataluma has been inaccurately translated as “inn” in some translations of the Bible. A kataluma was the traditional guest room of a home in first-century Palestine. Since everyone was returning to their ancestral homes, this room was understandably full when Mary and Joseph arrived at his family’s home in Bethlehem. More recent translations of the Bible (see the 2011 New International Version) have corrected this error.

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As written by Sherri Gragg in Advent: The Story of Christmas. Connect with Sherri on Instagram and her website.

Advent: The Story of Christmas traces God’s ribbon of redemption – from Eden to Jerusalem – through thirty-one biblical stories. Sherri Gragg’s unique storytelling, infused with cultural accuracy and color, has been described as “Bible stories for adults.”

Her narrative style offers a fresh perspective on the lives of God’s people, both ancient and modern. Advent: The Story of Christmas will enrich personal devotional time during the seasons of Advent and Christmas.

Today marks the third Sunday in the season of Advent, the four weeks leading up to Christmas Day. Join us here at (in)courage each Sunday during these weeks as we share excerpts from this beautiful book, learn more about Jesus, and count down to Christmas, together.

 

Finding Joy When the World is a Dumpster Fire

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You reveal the path of life to me; in your presence is abundant joy; at your right hand are eternal pleasures.
Psalm 16:11 (CSB)

Did you know the phrase “dumpster fire” is in the dictionary? In 2018, Merriam-Webster decided this colorful description of disaster was used often enough by enough people that it deserved its own entry.

I suppose I’m not surprised. How many times have I used that phrase to describe a situation or a season? A lot. I’ve said it a lot.

But lately I’ve been trying to avoid the saying, which one reporter calls a “gleefully catastrophic phrase.”* While it remains true— sometimes devastatingly so—that this world offers us constant chaos and catastrophe, that isn’t the only truth I know and believe. And it isn’t the reality I want to focus on or have a false sense of delight in.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying we should deny reality or pretend like everything is fine when it’s not. We shouldn’t filter our words and our photos so heavily that nobody ever sees our true feelings. And I am certainly not saying it’s wrong to grieve or struggle when life is hard. But while it’s healthy to feel our feelings and to share openly with trusted friends and family, let’s not dive into despair and throw our hope into the dumpster!

When we throw up our hands and declare a situation, a season, an entire calendar year to be a complete loss (i.e., a dumpster fire), we’re choosing to abandon hope and walk away from the joy God is placing before us. Instead, we’re attempting to find joy in the fleeting—and false—feeling of relief that comes from cursing a hard circumstance and avoiding both the real pain we’re experiencing and any gift or beauty that God offers us in the midst of that pain.

My oldest daughter just turned thirteen, and already I’m tired of people telling me how terrible the teen years are. First of all, I’m not so old that I’ve forgotten the challenges of being a teenager (and the many fights I got into with my mom). Second, and more importantly, I don’t like being told that I should expect parenting to be miserable for the next several years.

Thankfully, a few of my friends have children a bit older than mine and have chosen to find joy in parenting their teenagers. When they share about late-night conversations, shared laughs over old movies or autocorrect disasters, or the way having another driver in the house frees up their time (if not their worries), I feel so grateful to see that it’s not all bad. I’m encouraged to look for the ways God gives us joy in even the most annoying, awkward, or awful seasons.

At the time I’m writing this, our world resembles a dumpster fire in so many ways. It’s hard out there, and to be honest, it’s hard in here. Globally and personally, it’s been a difficult season—and I’m not sure when it will get better. If ever I’ve been tempted to throw in the towel and feel confident that joy is nowhere to be found, this is it. But rather than leaning into the cynicism that says nothing good can come from any of this, instead of abandoning my deep belief that we can choose the joy of the Lord in even the darkest times, I’m determined to choose joy.

Are you looking at a world or a season or even a life that you desperately want to declare a waste, a loss, a real dumpster fire? What would it feel like to pause, take a deep breath, and open your heart just enough to be filled with the joy of God’s love and His presence in your life? Is it possible to do this?

If you’re struggling to find anything good at all, ask God to help. Ask Him to reveal the path of life to you, to open your eyes to the beauty in the middle of the pain, to show you one reason to feel joy. Perhaps it’s simply His presence that brings you comfort and then delight. Perhaps He will show you the work He’s doing even while chaos seems to reign. Perhaps He will redirect your thoughts to focus on the good gifts He gives us rather than the pain of this world.

Finding joy when everything is falling apart (or burning) feels impossible, but nothing is impossible for our God. Ask Him to be with you and to bring you joy, and He will do it.

Lord, thank You for never abandoning me or this world when we seem like a lost cause. Please give me the strength to feel my feelings but to also keep going, to search for beauty, and to find joy—no matter my circumstances. Give me eyes to see You wherever I look today. Amen.

This article was written by Mary Carver, as published in Empowered: More of Him for All of You.

Single and Not Sorry This Holiday Season

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Obviously, I’m not trying to win the approval of people, but of God. If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ’s servant.
Galatians 1:10 (NLT) 

Look straight ahead and fix your eyes on what lies before you. Mark out a straight path for your feet; stay on the safe path. Don’t get sidetracked; keep your feet from following evil.
Proverbs 4:25-27 (NLT) 

We’re always comparing. They have more spending money than we do, but we have a cozier home. This friend has a fast-paced, highly successful career, and we enjoy our job just fine but work mostly for the weekend. That neighbor seems unattainably confident in their skin, and we spent last night researching different diets.

Comparison seems to be ingrained in us, and it’s only harder when you’re single.

Unfortunately, if we get into this mode of thinking, it also makes the holiday season even more difficult. We go to a party and are asked approximately 32 questions about our dating life, we catch up with friends we haven’t seen in a while and they are newly dating or engaged, and we compare our singleness to everyone around us who is in a seemingly happy and joyous relationship. We look at our lives – and even though they are filled with beautiful things big and small- the lack of a relationship causes us to feel like we come up short. These passages exhort us to cease the comparison game, and instead focus on our own path that God is leading us down.  

If you are single: Part of comparison is the evaluation of if there is enough to go around – enough success, enough happiness, enough love. But just because others around you are in flourishing romantic relationships and solid marriages does not mean that opportunity is gone for you. Just because it is for them doesn’t mean it’s not for you. Theodore Roosevelt once said comparison is the thief of joy, and that rings true when you assume that others’ relationship success means there is no hope for you. The idea that when someone else finds happiness in a relationship, your chance at this same happiness is diminished is simply untrue. Besides, the joy that is there for you today, on your path, is devalued when you peek at a path not meant for you.

Instead, if you actively work to focus your eyes ahead on the path God has laid out for you, you will find joy untethered from comparison. God knows your desires and your heart, and He has laid out a path just for you. During the holidays, it’s okay to invite other people to not ask you about dating, to reject bad advice, and to have to take a break from the small talk when you need to refocus and remind yourself of the goodness of your life in the here and now. You are single, but you don’t have to be sorry.  

If you aren’t single: It’s hard not to ask the single people in your life about dating – it’s so exciting! But just like your relationship with your significant other is a facet of your beautiful and complex life, the same is true for those of us who are single. As you gather with friends and family this holiday season, consider asking after other elements of your single friends’ lives: their job, their pet, their favorite kind of cheese. . . We’d welcome the opportunity to bond with you over our similarities, not what often feels to us like our biggest difference: our relationship status. It will be such an encouragement to your single friends when the emphasis isn’t placed on their single life but on who they are as a person.

None of us were created as a fragment, looking for its matching piece in the heart of a significant other. Psalm 139 says that we were “skillfully formed” (v.15) by God and “in Your book were written all the days that were ordained for me” (v. 16). God, your Father, created you unique and distinct from 8 billion other people on earth. And the same is true for your single friends. Many of us would love that reminder from a friend or family member during this season. 

The bottom line is: our God is not a God of lack but abundance. Comparison tempts us to feel that we are lacking, but God reminds us that He has a path full of richness and joy laid just for you. During this holiday season, let’s all pursue intentionality as we flee from the comparison trap and love one another with the love of God Himself. 

 

Opinions about single life — especially Christian single life — are plentiful and wide-ranging. In a social world that idolizes romantic relationships, single people can easily feel incomplete or less than. Single and Not Sorry: 90 Devotions of Real Encouragement for Right Now provides readers with inspiration from God’s Word about living according to God’s trustworthy purpose and plan regardless of their relationship status. Our true value is found in Christ alone — and through this book, readers will be able to confidently appreciate and enjoy exactly where they are in life. Single and Not Sorry releases in February 2023 – preorder your copy today!

 

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How Wrestling with Your Longings Can Lead You to Worship

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I haven’t played tennis since 1998. My team advanced to the playoffs in the fall of my senior year of high school. When we lost, I put my racket away and never really played again.

Years went by and I didn’t think about the sport very much. There was a part of me that always wanted to get back on the court, but children, work, or time constraints always got in the way. It’s easy to put my desires on the back burner of everyone else’s needs. Which, honestly, isn’t always a bad thing. I have been in a long season of raising babies to teenagers and putting some of my longings on hold was my way of loving them. The bad thing is that I lost touch with my desires completely.

I wrestle with my longings. Do my desires matter? How much space should they take up? Doesn’t love always mean dying to myself? Because I didn’t have good answers to all these questions, I put my longings to sleep. I didn’t pay much attention to them. But longings always tell the truth. They don’t tell me what to do, they tell me what I want. Longings left in isolation leave the heart lonely.

I had every excuse to not sign up for lessons or take a clinic. It took my thirteen year old asking to try tennis for me to reach out to a tennis coach that I know, coach Mercedes.

I dug through my old tennis bag on the top shelf of the garage. The strings on my racket were loose, the paint chipped, and the handle grip was worn down. But, when I held the racket it felt so familiar, like shaking hands with an old friend. I was nervous to play again. At one point in my life, I was actually good. I had the right form, an ace serve, a killer backhand, and a cute skirt. But, twenty-some years later, I might not be able to even rally.

I showed up as the fog floated up from the fenced in tennis courts at Los Posas park. I volleyed, swung, and struggled to find my footing. I moved slower than I did in 1998. My step had less zest, but my seasoned legs could still sprint from the backline to the net. I wasn’t good, but I was so happy.

Coach Mercedes says she experiences God on the tennis court. I’m not sure I can totally relate to that. Tennis is a sport. It is exercise and score keeping.

Throughout the book of Psalms the writers worship God through instruments, their voices, and even their lament. In Psalm 33, the psalmist worships God through a lyre (harp). Play the strings skillfully, he says. I think this is what Coach Mercedes means when she says God is on a tennis court. I think she’s talking about worship. And the more and more I get back on the court, I know what she means.

I can raise my racket like I am raising my hands in praise. I can lob a tennis ball over my opponent the same way my voice lifts to the cathedral ceilings. Everything I do is worship if I let it be.

I can slice potatoes for the soup as an act of worship.
I can call a friend who is struggling as an act of worship.
I can fold the laundry as an act of worship.
I can play tennis as an act of worship.

I can also minimize almost everything that I do. I can look at my revived love for tennis as silly or a waste of time. But I can also look at it as worship. When I understand that all I do is worship then the bounce of the ball off of the strings is a song. The perfect placement of a ball is engaging in a choir of praise. I don’t just play because it’s fun or good to move my body, although both are true. I play because God gave me a love for the game and as I play, I bring Him glory. When I play, I feel alive.

It’s like Ireneaus said, “The glory of God is man fully alive.”

When we give God glory, we experience His love. We are surrounded by it. Our longings lead us to love.

What is more loving than tennis? Even when I lose, I get to call out, “love!”  Every game, every match, every set starts with a the bounce of the ball and the words sung out — “Love all!”

 

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It’s Time to Take off the Cloak of Self-Hatred and Shame

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“Lose weight, then we’ll talk.”

That was exactly what the doctor said twelve years ago when I went into his office to get help with my back pain.

What I wanted to say was, “Wow, what a great idea. Why have I never thought about that?”

Instead, I just added all the shame, feelings of failure, and hopelessness to the already hefty burden of stigma I carried around with my excess weight.

And I left. Not getting help for my back. Not getting help with weight loss. Not getting help for any of the things that were causing me so much pain and heartbreak.

All those feelings of defeat piled on. Negative thoughts rolled through my mind: “Even though I’ve tried everything, maybe I just don’t trust God enough. Maybe I’m just a weak person and a bad representation of Christ. Maybe I have no right to write or teach because of this area of my life I cannot get under control.”

For years (my whole life really), I have lived in this cycle of shame — not just from doctors, but from the church.

Medical professionals would tell me if I just tried harder, I could improve my physical health. And the church would let me know if I just believed harder, I could improve my spiritual health by not being fat.

And it made me not want to be in either place — the doctor’s office or the church.

But after trying and failing so many times, I realized I couldn’t just give up. I was in pain. And even though making and waiting for a doctor’s appointment to talk about my weight gave me huge anxiety, I knew I had to do it. Because when you’re desperate, you risk the shame.

I injured my back about twenty-five years ago while helping my parents move and it’s never been the same since. I tried physical therapy, injections, and patches, but the pain still persisted. And while I know that getting out and walking would help me lose weight so that my back wouldn’t hurt as much, walking hurts my back. It just felt like the most painful cycle of frustration ever.

So I made an appointment with a new doctor to talk about my weight. I’m long over believing that losing weight will fix everything, but I do know from experience that losing even ten pounds helps my back feel so much better. And while I’ve been able to lose the weight at times? Maintaining it has been impossible.

My new doctor asked me some questions, and we discussed my medical history. I told her all about what I’ve done before and how much I’ve struggled historically with all of this. I even mentioned that every other doctor has let me know that if only I would work harder, try more, and “not be so lazy” (direct quote) I could lose the weight.

So I waited for the lecture. Again.

She looked at my chart, pulled in her breath, and then looked me in the eye. “Kathi, I do not for one minute believe that you have not tried hard enough.”

And … I started bawling.

For the first time, someone in authority, whether it was a doctor, pastor, teacher, coach — someone, anyone — recognized my desire and my effort, and didn’t blame me for not trying hard enough.

Friends, I cannot tell you what that grace has done for me. It has changed my life and my outlook. That doctor has given me a hope that I have never truly experienced before.

Someone not only believes me, but she believes in me.

And friends? That changes everything.

In the past, I felt like I had to show up properly ashamed of who I am in order to let others know that I get it. I am a failure. You don’t need to tell me. I know before you do.

But that is not the way Christ wants us to show up.

Romans 5:5 says, “And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (NIV).

As a Christ follower, hope is where we are to put our hearts — not shame.

And even though nothing has changed significantly for me physically yet, the act of taking off this cloak of self-hatred for not looking like everyone else, not being like everyone else? I’m already feeling a lot lighter. Not physically, but emotionally and spiritually.

There are physical, medical reasons why my weight is my biggest struggle.

Not laziness.

Not giving up.

Not a lack of faith.

I would never shame anyone for their medical condition, and now, after 55 years, I refuse to shame myself for another day because of mine.

Yes, there are things I need to do. That is true with any physical issue. But I refuse to see myself or believe that God sees me as less than because of this particular struggle.

Could you use some hope for an area of shame in your life too? I’m praying the Holy Spirit will speak loving truths to your heart.

Want to learn more about shame-free living? Click here to check out Kathi’s book, An Abundant Place.

 

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Hope to Hold onto When the Night Is Long

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I hit play and suddenly the familiar voices of characters I’ve come to love are speaking, shouting, whispering in my ears. The story rises and falls. With each turn, at every “there’s no way out” moment, my heartbeat quickens, my eyes widen, and I wonder what will come next. I’m frozen, holding my breath until they breathe a sigh of relief and make it to the other side of the cliff, until they’re safely through the unknown, until the page turns.

Chapter after chapter, my investment in the story increases. Book after book in the series, I’m drawn in deeper. When I reach the end of the very last sentence, a sigh escapes even as a smile spreads across my face.

There were twists I never saw coming, moments I anticipated that didn’t come to fruition, characters who betrayed, and many tears shed along the way. Death had something to say and loss colored the pages. But line by line and page by page, a grand story was woven together, culminating in an ending that wasn’t quite what I expected and yet was absolutely as it should be. It was right and it was good and it was beautiful.

The series found its way into my life at the very beginning of the pandemic, in the confusing unknown of days quietly spent locked down. Every evening, my roommate and I sat on the couch, coloring books and embroidery in hand, as the author read another twenty pages or so. We were surrounded by the unknown even while stuck at home, but night after night we were swept up in a story with an undercurrent of hope and joy, love and light.

This fall, after the approximately fifty-seventh time I raved about the fantastic writing and the characters that felt like friends, two real-life friends picked up the first book. Of course, I promptly started the series over, ready for a refresh and determined not to accidentally mention any spoilers. Before long, I once again sat on the edge of my seat, nervous over how they’d make it through to the next chapter.

At one particular moment, I interrupted the audiobook narrator and reminded my racing heart, “It’s going to be okay. You know how the story ends.” And then I froze, this time in wonder and relief, because while it’s true as I re-read a fictional story, the deeper truth is that Scripture offers us the very same hope, the assurance that come what may, it’s going to be okay.

Oh, it won’t be neat and tidy, predictable and tied with a Hallmark movie bow, but as Cory Asbury says, “The story isn’t over if the story isn’t good.”

What a gift for these right now days.
What a promise in the waves.
What a hope to cling to when the night is long.

We may not know what the next chapter will look like or how we’re going to make it, but we can be confident that ours is a God who does indeed bring us through the fire and the flood. There will be twists and turns along the way, but a way will most surely be made. The end has been determined: God will walk us all the way Home.

Revelation 21:3-6 says, “ ‘Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.’ And the one sitting on the throne said, ‘Look, I am making everything new!’ And then he said to me, ‘Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.’ And he also said, ‘It is finished! I am the Alpha and the Omega—the Beginning and the End. To all who are thirsty I will give freely from the springs of the water of life.’ ”

May we remember, here in these short December days when the night creeps closer, the words we’re quick to proclaim on a bright spring morning: Sunday is coming! He is risen indeed.

Even when the darkness is surrounding and suffocating, God hasn’t gone anywhere.⁣ Even in the seasons that feel like one long Good Friday, the story beneath the story is one of hope. Even when we cannot see a way, God will not turn away. He is trustworthy and true, and the One who is the end knows exactly how the story ends. The Word gets the final word, and it’s guaranteed to be good.

As one of the characters so perfectly says near the end of the series, when they’ve made it through the seemingly impossible, “Dawn has conquered dark since the Maker spoke the world. The night is deep, but light runs deeper.”

Our hope is secure. The promise is sure. The weary world has reason to rejoice, for the story is in good hands. Dawn is already on the way.⁣

We’re going to be okay. We know how the story ends.

For more encouragement in the messy middle, pick up a copy of Kaitlyn’s book. Even If Not will help you shift from the suspicion that God isn’t kind or present to the truth found in Scripture: on every single page of the story, He is with us and working all things for good.

 

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Make It Hard to Be Offended

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I have a confession to make. When I was new to conversations on race and culture, I got upset a lot . . . like a lot a lot.

There was the time a random woman behind me in the check out lane at the grocery store said I looked beautiful, like “exotic beautiful,” and though I had a smile plastered on my face as I said, “thank you,” inwardly I was fuming. Who does she think she is, calling me exotic, I thought to myself. There have been the countless times people have asked me, “What are you exactly?” and “Where are you from?” — questions that made me feel like a foreigner and a misfit. One time, a guy called me “Pocahontas,” and he meant it as a compliment-insult. Each time an incident like this occurred, I’d say very little in the moment, but then I’d go home and vent to my husband, or to my friends, or (as is often the case when you insult a writer), I’d write those people into infamy.

Lord, forgive me.

I’d like to say that those days are far behind me. It’s not that I don’t ever get offended anymore. I do. But I’ve also learned a valuable lesson over the years: it’s better to forgive than to fume.

We live in a day and age in which getting offended at every slight is in vogue. The question about race that rubbed you the wrong way, the compliment about your hair or skin color or an article of clothing gone wrong, the off-handed comment about your ethnic heritage or culture that felt like a slap in the face. Instead of either letting the words slide off, or perhaps gently leaning in to ask for clarity, we dismiss, disengage, and dishonor.

I’ve come to see that there is no path for healing for the person who turns everything into a fight (and that includes me).

Worse, we’ve conditioned ourselves to ascribe motive to people’s words and actions. Someone didn’t just make a comment on culture or race or justice that we disagree with. Now we’ve decided that they said what they said because they’re an insensitive person or because they’re privileged or even, perhaps, because they’re trying to flex their power over us. Then we find out a week, or a month, or a year later that the person we thought was a full-blown racist was, in fact, just coming from a different angle, or that we misheard them, or perhaps we just didn’t have a category to understand what they were saying, but now we do. Reality is rarely what we think it is.

In race conversations, we need to forgive people, because God forgives us. But I want to take that even a step further. I have made it my goal in life to not be easily offended, because God isn’t easily offended with me.

I love how it states in Colossians 3:13: “Bear with one another and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” As Christians, we are called to forgive. And, if it’s hard for us to forgive, then we haven’t understood the full scope of God’s forgiveness toward us. Every day of our lives, we sin against God, and yet He’s quick to show us mercy and grace. God doesn’t burn us, or cancel us, or shame us. God’s treatment of us is the model for how we are to treat one another.

That’s not to say that we turn a blind eye on real-world problems or become insensitive to the hurting in the world. But we do have the power to not be bothered by people’s questions and comments. We have the power to not assume motive or intent. Because we have the Holy Spirit living and breathing within us, we have been given the power to be unoffendable.

Here’s what this could look like in everyday scenarios:

  • Did a family member make an off-hand comment about another person’s culture or ethnic community? You might feel ready to bring out your pitchfork. Instead, try a gentle approach. Respond with something simple, such as, “Hmm, that’s an interesting perspective. Could you tell me more?” If you’re not willing to truly listen to them and make them feel heard, don’t address their comment at all.
  • Did someone on the internet post about a race-related issue that just sent your nerves firing? Instead of typing a comment that would most likely escalate the tension, stop and pray for them (and yourself). Consider whether it’s possible for you to just keep scrolling and move on with your day. Remember, you don’t need to pick fights with everyone you disagree with. If you feel strongly about what the person has said, DM them and communicate a humble, respectful desire for dialogue, if they’re open to it. If you don’t know the person, why are you even trying to engage them in the first place?
  • Did someone at work, at church, or in your community make a comment about you that feels like a dig on your physical appearance, ethnic heritage, or cultural way of life? If so, is it possible for you to just laugh it off? Humor is a wonderful way to brush off perceived slights. Could you choose to respond with a genuine smile and a kind reply that invites them to get as excited about your culture as you are? As the old saying goes, kill them with kindness.

Christians should be the most forgiving people on the face of this planet, because we know best what it means to be forgiven. When it comes to race conversations, may the world know we are Christians by our love, our grace, and our inability to be easily offended. Meeting people where they’re at is the healthy, Christ-centered way forward.

 

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Nothing Will Be Impossible for God

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At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, where she entered Zechariah’s home and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice she exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!”

And Mary said:

“My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful
    of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
    holy is his name.
His mercy extends to those who fear him,
    from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
    he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
    but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
    but has sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
    remembering to be merciful
to Abraham and his descendants forever,
    just as he promised our ancestors.”

Mary stayed with Elizabeth for about three months and then returned home.
Luke 1:39-56 (NIV)

Elizabeth sat on the ground, heels tucked beneath her, and kneaded the dough in the bowl in front of her. A strand of gray hair slipped from beneath her head covering and clung to the perspiration running down her temple. After a moment she grimaced, sat up straight, and rubbed her aching lower back. Then she placed one hand under her heavy abdomen to support it and struggled to her feet.

Slowly, she shuffled over to a bench in a shady corner of the yard and plopped down. She closed her eyes for a moment and laid one hand tenderly across her stomach.

“Oooh!” she cried out in surprise, her eyes flying open as the baby suddenly kicked. The old woman patted the place where the tiny foot had struck and she began to laugh. At first she chuckled softly, then louder and louder until tears rolled down her soft and wrinkled cheeks.

When her laughter subsided, she gazed tenderly down at her abdomen, now still and quiet, and shook her head in awe.

How could this be? How could she, Elizabeth, conceive a child in her old age after a lifetime of barrenness?

Elizabeth turned her face to the sky and held her hands to heaven and prayed: “Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever” (Psalm 106:1).

A moment later she walked back across the courtyard, bent to pick up the kneading bowl, and carried it to the beehive-shaped oven. The fire she began earlier that morning had burned down to coals, heating the fragments of pottery that lined the walls of the oven. Expertly, she plucked a portion of dough, rolled it between her palms, flattened it, and then tossed it through the opening where it stuck onto the wall inside. The bread baked quickly. Soon the kneading bowl was empty and a large platter nearby was piled high with fragrant discs of bread.

Elizabeth picked up the platter and gratefully made her way across the yard to the cool interior of her home. A short time later, she sat mending a tear in one of Zechariah’s robes when she heard a familiar voice call out in greeting.

“Elizabeth!”

Her cousin Mary stepped through the door. Immediately the baby in Elizabeth’s womb began to leap for joy and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. She stood and began to prophesy loudly as she crossed the room to Mary.

“Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear!” Elizabeth said. “But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill His promises to her!” (Luke 1:42–45).

Mary’s eyes filled with tears of happiness. She stepped forward and placed one hand on each side of Elizabeth’s abdomen. The baby rolled and kicked at her touch.

Life. Elizabeth’s long-barren womb was filled with miraculous, abundant life. The angel’s words came back to Mary, driving away all doubt and fear: “For nothing will be impossible with God” (Luke 1:37 ESV).

Mary didn’t understand how she, a virgin, could conceive the child the angel promised. She didn’t know how she would avoid the shame and potentional punishment that accompanied unwed mothers in her culture. Mary had no idea how she would provide for herself and for the child in the long years to come.

But it wasn’t her job to know. It was God’s.

He only asked that she trust Him moment by moment, day by day. Deep inside Mary’s heart, a knot of anxiety and fear un-tangled as she released everything into God’s hands. She took Elizabeth by the hand and led her back to her seat. Then Mary sat on the floor beside her and laid her head against Elizabeth’s knee as tears of relief and surrender flowed down her cheeks. Gently, Elizabeth stroked Mary’s hair, as the young girl lifted her praises to God.

As written by Sherri Gragg in Advent: The Story of Christmas. Connect with Sherri on Instagram and her website.

Advent: The Story of Christmas traces God’s ribbon of redemption – from Eden to Jerusalem – through thirty-one biblical stories. Sherri Gragg’s unique storytelling, infused with cultural accuracy and color, has been described as “Bible stories for adults.”

Her narrative style offers a fresh perspective on the lives of God’s people, both ancient and modern. Advent: The Story of Christmas will enrich personal devotional time during the seasons of Advent and Christmas.

Today marks the second Sunday in the season of Advent, the four weeks leading up to Christmas Day. Join us here at (in)courage each Sunday during these weeks as we share excerpts from this beautiful book, learn more about Jesus, and count down to Christmas, together.

 

God Understands Our Despair and Won’t Leave Us Alone

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Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. My soul is downcast within me; therefore I will remember you from the land of the Jordan, the heights of Hermon — from Mount Mizar.
Psalm 42:5–6 (NIV)

The screaming and crying are high-pitched and unbearable. I don’t understand why my baby has regressed. Why isn’t she going to sleep as easily as before? Is it teething? A growth spurt? A nightmare? Instead of the twelve hours of quiet and rest I used to get, now every night I sit in the hallway outside her closed door, listening to her wail and waiting for her to go back to sleep. My stubbornness and rigidity to stick to the schedule keeps me from going in, but my new-mother heart keeps me seated, unbudging.

I clench my teeth and pound my fists on my thighs. I cover my ears and rock back and forth. I pull my hair. I want it to end. I want to be able to sleep without interruption or worry that she’ll wake up her daddy, who works the swing shift and is barely getting sleep as it is. I want her to get the rest she needs because she’s just a baby. I throw my whys and hows at God, demanding answers and getting silence.

Eventually, the crying mercifully ends, and I leave my post in the hallway. I trudge downstairs, my legs heavy. My eyelids too. But my heart is still racing, and my ears ring even in the quiet. I feel the threads of my sanity unraveling, and I feel imprisoned by despair, by the lack of reprieve, by this part of mothering.

My husband is working. I’m alone. And the thoughts begin:

I just want to sleep — is that too much to ask?

I wish I could disappear into a void where no one needs me.

I want to disappear.

I need to disappear.

I sink deeper and start to wonder how I can do this in the most considerate way, with the least amount of cleanup for my husband when he finds me. Falling asleep in the car with the engine running in the garage sounds enticing, doable.

But as I realize how far I’ve come in my suicidal ideation, I scare myself. My heart beats in my ears as I pick up the phone and send out a mass text in the middle of the night to friends near and far:

Please pray for me. I’m having suicidal thoughts.

Typing out the words brings a flood of shame. The critic is loud in my head, telling me I should be embarrassed, that I hadn’t gone far enough to warrant a call for help. But with each text that comes through from friends saying they’re praying for me, light and fresh air enter the darkness—I’m not alone.

When we’re deep in depression, overwhelmed with life, or stuck in impossible situations, hope feels like wishful thinking. In Psalm 42:5–6, the psalmist urges his soul to hope in God. He’s not chiding himself to feel hope right there in the depths of his despair. He’s saying, “One day — someday — I will praise God again, so soul, hope in Him.” He’s looking to a future deliverance, and he’s certain that God will see to it.

In the meantime, he remembers God from his place of despair. We have the whole of history to look back on and see how God has been faithful. Recounting the truths He’s spoken to us and the ways His presence carried us makes hope substantial. And God Himself understands darkness and death. Christ experienced it in His body on the cross, and so our hope in Him is not like a thin silver lining. Instead, it’s like a thick rope thrown down to lift us out of the pit—to take another step and live another day.

God, thank You for understanding despair and for not being afraid of death. You enter into the darkness and sit with me instead of scolding me and forcing me toward the light. You are gentle in Your care, and You provide a way out — even if it’s not in my timing or in a way I can fathom. Help me to have the long view of “someday” to make me resilient when I can’t see beyond my pain. Amen.

This article was written by Grace P. Cho, as published in Empowered: More of Him for All of You.

Empowered: More of Him for All of You, by Mary Carver, Grace P. Cho, and Anna E. Rendell is designed to incorporate the five major components of our being — physical, mental, emotional, relational, and spiritual. The sixty Scripture passages and devotions invite you to see from different angles how God empowers us, and each day ends with prayer and reflection questions to deepen the learning. Grab a copy now. We pray it blesses you.

But How Are You REALLY Doing Right Now?

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A few weeks ago, I got sick with a fever that wouldn’t go away. On one of the worst nights of my sickness, I slipped away to the couch, so that my tossing and turning wouldn’t wake up my husband.

I tried ibuprofen. I tried Tylenol. I lit a fire in the fireplace. I tried cough drops and hot tea. And finally, the very last thing I tried was prayer.

I am not proud to say that prayer was my last line of offense.

I know I’m not alone in the this. Sometimes, we don’t pray because we overestimate our self-sufficiency. Other times, we undervalue God’s concern to tend to the little things in our lives.

It goes like this:

We tend to grade matters by their seeming significance. Grade-A Matters are things like war, injustice, kids with cancer, and failing marriages. Those things are important and deserve our attention with prayer. But the truth is, even when the world at large is suffering, we’ve all got something going on – right this very second. And it all matters to God, even the things you think are Grade-D Matters.

Know this: God’s hands are large enough to hold all the Grade-D Matters – the late-night fevers, your concerns over your kids’ grades, that plumbing problem in the basement, or the fact that your friend hasn’t returned your texts.

So I have a question for you: How are you really doing right now with “the other stuff” going on in your life, the Grade-D Matters?

When something big happens in our world or our community, we tend to minimize “the other stuff.” We don’t want to burden our friends, or God, by letting them know what else hurts right now.

I’ve said it before, but there have been times in my life when I’ve been reluctant to share with my Bible study girls about an emotional struggle, because someone else was just diagnosed with cancer. I categorized my pain as Grade D, and hers as Grade A.

I’ll tell myself things like, “I shouldn’t be this sad or worried. It could be worse.”

It’s also possible that you’ve been the victim of the “my life is harder than yours” game. It happens when you share your hard, but according to someone else, it isn’t hard enough compared to what they’re going through.

We do ourselves a disservice as sisters when we track each other’s pain along a scale, as if it can be easily categorized along one of those smiley-face charts on a doctor’s office wall.

Here’s the thing: God doesn’t stop caring about your “other stuff” just because other people, this nation, and this world are walking through really big trials. Hard things in other people’s lives do not negate the pain you are carrying personally:

With your finances.
With your baby’s erratic sleep schedule.
With your anxiety.
With the disagreement you had with your dad.
With the pressure of those deadlines.
With your ANYTHING.

Recently, I read Paul’s second letter to his buddy Timothy. He spends most of the letter writing about the big stuff: godlessness in the last days, suffering for the gospel, sound preaching. And then, toward the end, he gives Timothy a final instruction: “Bring the cloak that I left… also the books, and above all the parchments” (2 Timothy 4:13, ESV).

It’s the cloak that gets me.

At this point in the biblical narrative, Paul was an older fellow getting close to dying while locked up in a cold prison — and his only coat was many miles away.

I don’t know why that bit about the cloak is in there, but I do believe that Scripture is God-breathed, and that every word is there for a reason — even the hardest and weirdest parts of the Bible. Every word has something to teach us about God or ourselves.

I wonder if that tiny sentence about the cloak is one way that God is letting us know that the little things matter. Little things like coats, new tires for your car, your class schedule, your job, and a fever that won’t let up.

God is big enough to care about the little things.

Nothing is too big for our Lord. And nothing is too small either.

 

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3 Lies that Trigger Anxiety & 3 Truths to Set You Free

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One of the first things I encountered when I started having anxiety and panic attacks was the myths and stigma from people of faith.

I was a mom and had never experienced severe anxiety before. I was really shy about this taboo subject of mental health. I am an encourager by nature, serving as a Bible teacher and leader in church ministries. I didn’t want other people to think there was something wrong with my faith, but unfortunately, those were some of the first responses that I got.

Maybe you’re not praying enough?
Maybe there’s a hidden sin you’re not addressing?
Maybe you’re not reading the Bible enough or trusting God enough?

Although they were well-meaning, these words hurt me.

Do you identify with any of these questions of doubt? Have you ever felt stuck in a cycle of worry, stress, or anxiety? It’s easy to feel so isolated. But, we are not alone. God is with us! And rather than judge each other, we can encourage each other.

While researching what both Scripture and science had to say about anxiety, I discovered that many people were grossly misinformed about anxiety.

Today, I want to share the three biggest lies I encountered and three powerful truths that helped me let go of guilt and shame. I know these will encourage you too! So, pour yourself a cup of tea as you soak in the goodness for your soul!

MYTH #1: Jesus commanded us not to worry, so if you worry, you are sinning.
TRUTH #1: Jesus encourages us not to worry about money.

In Matthew 6:25, Jesus was not issuing a command that makes worry an act of sin. Rather, He is reassuring us with words of encouragement! So that when we do worry, we don’t have to stay worried. Jesus was reminding us that just as our Heavenly Father takes care of the birds and flowers, He will take care of us!

So when you’re buckling under the weight of worry, try this: In a soothing, loving voice, with kindness to yourself, whisper Jesus’ words, “So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself…” (Matthew 6:34 NASB).  Doesn’t it change the whole feel of loving encouragement? So be at peace, sister. God understands why you worry, and He loves you. He is a God of comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles (2 Corinthians 1:4).

MYTH #2: If you don’t have peace or joy, you must not be trusting God enough.
TRUTH #2: Emotional honesty is part of faith, and faith is the intimate act of trusting God with your real self instead of hiding how you feel or trying to do or be more.

Jesus tenderly whispers, “Don’t hide.” He invites us to come, and He promises to give rest to our souls (Matthew 11:28). We’re invited to come to Him weary, confused, numb, anxious, angry, or stressed. Jesus tells us to simply come as we are — imperfectly His.

MYTH #3: If you read God’s Word more, pray more, praise more, give thanks more, you will not struggle with the past.
TRUTH #3: Faith is not emotional amnesia. Faith gives us courage to face the brokenness of life and heal from the losses we’ve suffered.

Jesus Himself obeyed, prayed, praised, and gave thanks perfectly. Yet He suffered emotional trauma, overwhelmed by impending physical and emotional abuse, abandonment and betrayal. (See Mark 14:34-35.) In His human form, Jesus models full dependence on the Father. Jesus entrusts His present pain and His future into God’s loving hands.

When the Apostle Paul encourages us not to be anxious but to pray, give thanks, and present our requests to God (Philippians 4:6-7), he is pointing us to the peace available when we take our problems to God, rather than striving for peace based on our own ability to resolve our struggles.

Therefore friends, whatever you are facing today, just breathe. God knows the truth of your challenges and He loves you unconditionally. God will take care of you.

Preorder Bonnie’s new book, Breathe and then sign up for her FREE Breathe Online Bible Study: 21 Ways to Stress Less and Transform Chaos to Calm to break free from worry, stress, and anxiety in the new year. (Starts January 10 – click here).

 

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Giving Up Your Bitterness and Praying the Prayer You Don’t Want To

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I had a particularly difficult season in business last year. In a co-worker’s own hurt of perhaps not being admired any longer, listened to, or valued, she became insolent — to the point of saying slanderous and untrue words. She had left the company and had moved on to another one, but the way she kept flame throwing to burn our businesses down felt purposefully mean-spirited. Especially if you thought you were friends!

I have walked through betrayal before, believe me. I know how deep betrayal feels in marriage and I know the work it takes to forgive. But for some reason, this felt different. I knew there wasn’t reconciliation on the other side, I didn’t want it. And she certainly didn’t either. There were too many bridges burned. And so I left it alone. 

Well, sort of . . .

Any time her name came up, I would prickle. I would sometimes even wish she failed in her new endeavor, that the weight of her sin would give her what she was owed. My prayers were more like, “Bring her justice!” And under the guise of Scripture, it felt sort of holy. It didn’t feel like sin. After all, she was in the wrong. 

Every day, I walk on nearby trails for about 5.5 miles, which takes me about an hour and a half. This gives me a lot of time to think. Unfortunately, at the start of one particular walk, I was ruminating on the latest flame hurled over the fence by this same gal. “Relentless! She must be so miserable and…” But my passionate thoughts were interrupted by another thought: Pray for her. 

This was not my leaning, nor was it from my brain (obviously), this was God breaking through.

Pray for HER? Oh, come on!

But speaking of relentless, God wouldn’t let up. I couldn’t enjoy my jazz for autumn playlist. I couldn’t say hi to all my dog friends. This new thought demanded my attention. Fine! I thought, like a toddler fighting over a toy who gets the toy stolen is asked to apologize to the one who stole it. In this scenario, the victim may or may not have given the offender a little bop on the shoulder.  “She stole my firetruck! SO, I had no choice over what I did with my hand!”

Hmmm mmm hmmm, I cleared my throat. And quickly prayed. Lord, umm . . . please help HER today. Be with her. Show her Your presence. Be near to her and her family. 

I started to soften, but was still uncomfortable praying for someone I considered my enemy. And then the voice again, Now bless her.

I pursed my lips. I wanted to say no. My heart was resistant. I paused, buckling under my desire to be obedient more than my desire to bless my adversary. So I prayed, “God would you please bless her. Bless her family, Bless her… business.” That last one was the hardest of all, knowing what she had caused in mine. I exhaled. I realized that in my cloak of holiness, I had been harboring bitterness.

Funny thing, several weeks later, her name came up, and I didn’t have one bad thought about her. I didn’t have anything to say in the conversation, nor did I want to. I wasn’t going to her social media to see what lies she was spewing today. I was released from that heavy weight of vengeance, of retribution, of being the judge. It felt so good.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.
Galatians 5:1 (NIV)

Bitterness is heavy. And you know what else we’re warned against along with bitterness? Slander. 

Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.
Ephesians 4:31-32

(Ironically, this is the same verse God used to help me forgive my husband after his affair.)

I was just as guilty as my former coworker in living out of my sin. And God, in His kindness, refused to let me stay in this slavery, this heaviness, anymore. He didn’t do it by changing her, He did it by changing me. He did it gently, but He did it swiftly. And not because I changed my own heart, but because He asked me to pray a prayer of obedience.

I didn’t trust that I would forgive her, but I did trust the One who asked me to forgive. And He was faithful to accomplish that good work inside of me.

This is such good news. We can be free!

 

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Christmas Will Still Come

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Over the last six weeks, our family hosted and celebrated Thanksgiving, visited and welcomed visiting family, and attended kindergarten/preschool and church Christmas programs. Three of my kids had birthdays (and so did I!) and we hosted parties for each one. I volunteered at my kids’ school. And now in just a few weeks, Christmas Day will both come and go.

Lunches have been packed, meals have been made, baths have been given. Words and glances have been exchanged, laundry was (or wasn’t) done, crumbs and toys and towels have been left on the floor until I pitched a fit.

Life has marched along, way too fast for the beat of this drummer.

And after it all, Christmas will come.

Maybe the last six weeks held joy for you, and maybe they held pain. Perhaps both. Either way, Christmas will come.

Maybe the last six weeks held cleaning, baking and hosting, wrapping, decorating, and movie nights. Maybe the last six weeks have been idyllic and beautiful and storybook. At their happy ending, Christmas will come.

Maybe the last six weeks held hard things. Floods of memories, too many to hold in your heart so you eat, you run, you sleep, you shop — you cope. Waves of disappointment, in family and friends and yourself and though this season is supposed to be full of thankfulness and peace, you felt neither. On a day when you’d rather stay in bed, Christmas will come.

Maybe the last six weeks held busy. Drop-off, pick-up, work. All the everyday that grinds and rubs wrong and blesses all at once. A kid may have thrown up, and you most likely stepped on a bunch of Legos. You held every tiny detail together and juggled too many invisible, unseen, under-appreciated plates. You shopped and wrapped and got dressed for church. Your back ached, and the kids didn’t sleep all night, and family drama ensued, and you’ve been the glue that holds all the moving pieces together. Especially when there just aren’t enough hours in a day, Christmas will come.

Maybe the last six weeks held feelings of loss, of abandonment. Maybe you experienced a parting of ways in a relationship. Maybe you felt as though God was taking (or has taken) things away from you. Maybe you felt as if the holidays couldn’t possibly arrive in your house, in your heart, because you have no room and nothing to give. Even — maybe especially — when you’re running on empty and full of disappointment, Christmas will come.

Christmas came to a peasant girl in first-century Palestine.

Christmas came to a world steeped in sin.

Christmas came to a barn in the middle of the night. Christmas came to a feeding trough.

Christmas is bigger than anything standing in our way because Christmas is Jesus. And Jesus comes to us in all walks, in all times, in all capacities. Jesus comes to us in pain, in joy, in despair and anguish, in everyday apathy, in seasons of wealth and seasons of pennies. He doesn’t diminish our situation or feelings but faithfully meets us right where we are. Whether overwhelmed, underwhelmed, overworked, under-appreciated, over it, under it . . . Jesus arrives to be with us.

Whether we got the pies baked and gifts bought, whether the dust bunnies are thriving or the house is clean, whether our schedules are jam-packed or clear, whether our spirits are bright or our hearts are heavy, Christmas will come. Jesus will come. He is with us already, Immanuel in our everyday.

This article is from the archives and featured in Everyday Faith Magazine.

Did you know DaySpring has a magazine? It’s true! And the brand new winter 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 tear-out prayers to share cards, scannable QR codes for goodies, and exclusive Winter 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.

Giveaway open to US addresses only, and will close on 12/3/22 at 11:59pm central. 

 

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