Her Children Arise and Call Her Blessed

Her Children Arise and Call Her Blessed

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My mother passed away on my birthday in 2004, the year before the birth of my youngest child. More than anything, I miss my mom being a part of my daily life. You’re never too old to need your mother. So, in honor of the upcoming Mother’s Day — and in memory of my own mom — I want to share the story of a day, over a decade ago, that was memorable but also typical in the life of a mom.

I have what some might call a fancy education. I took six years to get a four-year degree and also married and had my first child during that time. In the months leading up to graduation, friends, family, and professors asked what I planned to do next. I realized more than any job, I wanted another baby. Ten months after graduation I gave birth to my second son and never looked back.

While my education helped prepare me to eventually homeschool my own children, I never imagined the gamut of emotions — from sheer terror to pure bliss inherent — in what, to me, is the greatest job in the world.

On just an average day, I experienced several of those moments that so often define motherhood.

Every mother who has had both a toddler and a set of stairs knows that awful sound: the thud, followed by wailing. I heard it and ran across the house, scared of what I would find. My twenty-month-old daughter lay at the bottom of the stairs, scared and hurt. I sat and held her until she stopped crying, while she marked my black shirt with iridescent trails of mucus, a visible badge of motherhood. Then she snuggled in close and popped her little thumb in her mouth, content. It wouldn’t always be so, but I was blessed with a moment when I was all she needed to make everything better.

In the afternoon, my ten-year-old daughter had her homeschooling program that teaches practical skills and needed to finish her project of sewing a tiered skirt. While I helped at my painfully slow pace, the other mothers and daughters seemed to fly through the steps. Then it hit me: my daughter didn’t seem to notice or care that I wasn’t as skilled as many of the other moms. She looked at me with adoring eyes, confident that I could guide her. The blind devotion of a child is a sacred trust, and I was humbled and honored by it.

After a long day, we headed to Moe’s for dinner. While we ate, I noticed two ladies seated close to us who seemed to observe our clan. This was not uncommon; a family of ten attracts attention. People don’t always understand why we would have so many children, and their attitude is not always kind. As they were leaving, one of the ladies leaned down and spoke in my ear, “Your family is adorable. Simply precious!” I never saw her again, but her words were not soon forgotten.

When I read Proverbs 31, verse 28 always jumps out at me: “Her children arise and call her blessed.” That’s what I want, what I can’t attain on my own, what has to be given to me, undeserving though I am.

On that ordinary day, my children beheld me as comforter, teacher, and the object of their affection. Though I seek to bless their precious lives, the truth is they bless me beyond measure.

This coming Sunday, I encourage you to honor your mother or your mother’s memory. If you have children, please join me in thanking God for them.

 

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What Draws Us Together Is Jesus

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Hi. My name is Anna, and I am a die-hard fan of physical, paper, hold-in-my-hands planners.

Yes, we use Google calendar for family calendar-ing and planning, and I’m beholden to a Teams calendar for work, but I keep a paper planner on my desk which keeps my brain in the game and organized. I’ve had a paper planner since elementary school, and I’ve kept many of them over the years, tucked away in my bottom desk drawer. Looking back through them brings me a sweet, bless-her-heart moment as I page through what I considered important enough to log at the time.

School assignments, work deadlines, appointments for me, my husband, and the kids. Birthday parties, church, volunteering, events, sports, outings with friends, trips, and meal plans. I’ve kept track of much of my life in spiral-bound sheets of paper, the blank squares of the monthly layout beckoning, while the lined weekly pages wait to be filled with to-do tasks. I don’t get fancy with decorating or tons of stickers — just my trusty, favorite, black ink pen and the occasional sticky note or paperclip. And I log it all.

Last year, my love for the (in)courage planner was strong because writing down any and all plans provided hope and routine and joy, as I struggled my way through pandemic life. I made one meal plan, then another, and another. I read the Scriptures on the planner pages (DaySpring planners like this one include Scripture!). I clung to anything normal and wrote down whatever I could. Nothing was too small to be included.

This year is different. My planner is cheerfully loaded up with baseball games, weekly meal plans, to-do lists, and PTO meetings. There are even a few trips, both for work and friends! Friendship is back on the schedule — just last week, most of the (in)courage writers gathered for the first time in two years.

There were friends new and old, hugs and late-night talks, a lot of coffee and a lot of laughter. Some of us have been here for the better part of thirteen years, while others just joined in last month. But when we got together, it was like we’ve been soul sisters for a very, very long time. And it’s not because we’re all so much alike! I mean, you all know that.

You know (in)courage is made up of women willing to go first with their hard, awkward, messy stories. There’s a whole lot that makes us different from one another — where we live, the kind of work we do, our family’s makeup and cultural values, our church denominations, the color of our skin, and the curve of our hips. Each woman is a unique masterpiece of the Creator, and what draws us together is Jesus.

Our one heart for Jesus beats loudest when we link arms and remember that we don’t journey alone. Together is how we thrive. This is reflected in our words here, in our books and devotionals, and in our brand new (in)courage 2022-23 One Heart planner.

In every month of the new planner, you’ll be introduced to a different theme that reflects God’s heart for you, and you’ll get to read an excerpt of a story from a different (in)courage writer.

This 2022-2023 agenda planner also provides the classic DaySpring planner features, including durable laminated cover and tabs, lay-flat design with continuous spiral, an interior pocket page, and generous space for noting your plans. Because, friend, no matter what season of life you are in, prioritizing and planning helps make the most of your time.

You will be inspired by the beautiful monthly art spreads, weekly verses, and inspirational messages throughout. The notes section with lined pages will help you write down quick thoughts to come back to, the tear-out Scripture cards will encourage your heart, and there are even three pages of adorable stickers you can write on to help bring your planner some color and extra joy!

This is honestly my favorite planner — and my favorite design from (in)courage ever. It’s so beautiful! See more pictures, get all the details, and buy your planner here! Plan and walk through your days remembering that you are not alone. We are connected as co-heirs of Christ and daughters of the King!

And to remind you of this throughout 2022 and 2023, we’re giving away THREE (in)courage One Heart planners!

Just leave a comment on this article telling us about your experience with or love for paper planners. We’ll draw three lucky winners.

*Giveaway only open to US addresses and will close at 11:59pm on May 6, 2022.

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May Your Dreaming Be Like Breathing

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I remember where I was when I first realized that I loved to dream. Resting my head on the glass, I looked outside the window to see trees swaying and clouds undulating in the sky. It was on the way to school — all those early mornings going to and fro, from the bus stop to the front doors of my school’s brick building. No iPhones or AirPods in those days, just a clunky walkman and my case of CDs — Be Not Nobody by Vanessa Carlton, Human Clay by Creed, and Fallen by Evanescence.

Those mere thirty minutes of bumpy turbulence and teeth-chattering on the cold bus every morning were an exhale for me. I looked forward to them more than I did learning about isotopes in earth science, more than I did seeing my friends.

My heart came alive and my mind would awaken on that drive across counties, under tunnels, and through streetlights. It was a solace for me — a safe space for my ideas and dreams to come to life. I dreamed about the future and who I might become. I dreamed about the places I longed to go and the people I longed to love. I dreamed of a future filled with love and hope. I dreamed of redemption, of seeing restoration in the lives of those I loved.

All of those days on the bus, looping in and out of my neighborhood, in and out the streets from school to softball practice and back again, I didn’t know I was exercising hope. I was practicing my ability to think beyond what I could see, to believe in something better. 

I was coming to discover that the act of dreaming is a defiant escape from reality. Actually, dreaming is not simply a way to escape but rather a faithful way to exercise imagination.

But these days, dreaming doesn’t come so easy. I have emails to send, FaceTime calls with family to make, bills to pay, and doctor appointments to attend. My days are spent juggling my son and his questions, and my mind is filled with more doubt than curiosity, more cynicism than optimism, more hurt than hope. Dreaming comes especially hard on the days my health hits me the hardest, when I am bone-tired at best and can barely give my brain space to breathe, let alone dream.

I can’t help but wonder, Do you feel it too? It seems our lives (and even the lies we tell ourselves) keep us from dreaming, keep us from making space to practice imagining. We don’t set aside time to imagine, and we don’t give ourselves permission to dream. Imagining isn’t often a part of our daily lives — or our faith.

We get stuck in the mundane and the misery that surrounds us — so much so that we forget that imagination is the foundation to our faith. Faith invites us to envision and embrace a King and a kingdom we’ve yet to see with our eyes.

Perhaps, today, it would help to hear that you don’t have to fear what you’ve been told or taught about dreaming; dreams are not always untamed tangents that take you towards evil. 

And perhaps dreaming isn’t always about determination and direction or taking the next right step. Maybe dreaming is not always about deciding your destiny or unlocking your fate for the future.

Instead, think of dreaming more like breathing — a way to exhale, a way to keep life pumping in and out of your lungs. Could it be that the dreams that come to you while you wash the dishes are a way to work delight into your days? Might it be that these visions help you see your life and our world with an eternal perspective?

I no longer take bus rides to school, but I love looking out the window when I drive and dreaming about all God is doing in my life and in this world. I love taking breaks during the day to put on headphones and listen to music that awakens my mind to recall the greatness of our God. I need these moments — not only to make me feel good but to challenge my faith to grow.

So this is my hope for you: May you embrace your desire to dream and imagine like you embrace your need to breathe. May you see it as necessary and vital. When you wash dishes, I hope you dream. When you drive, I hope you dream. While you cook, I hope you dream. 

In the middle of the mundane, I hope you dream about your children and the foundation you’re setting for their future. I hope you imagine the way your love is laying down a legacy, brick by brick. I hope you dream about God’s kingdom here on earth and imagine the ways in which His light will break forth through the earth, bringing hope and healing.

May your dreaming be like breathing, and may you always remember that your breath is the very exhale of your praise and prayers to our very present and powerful God.

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Believing Against Hope That the Harvest Is Coming

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I’ve laid awake at night scrolling through decades of apologies I’ve needed to make — instances when I didn’t know the unintended pain I’d inflicted or when I didn’t understand someone’s silent suffering. With age, maturity, and hard-fought life lessons, there comes a new understanding of grief. It’s multi-faceted with layers of nuances we never imagined.

I started writing here at (in)courage when the youngest of our five children was in kindergarten. With a large family by choice, the pain of infertility was the farthest thing from my mind. In fact, my parents celebrate thirty grandchildren from only four kids. People joked that there must be something in our family water, and when our eldest son got married, he ran with it. He and his precious wife prepped me for the eight grandkids they’d give us right away.

I couldn’t wait. Our home has been the launching pad for some of God’s greatest missional work. And as I’ve made mothering decisions, it’s been with the knowledge that my parenting choices impact not only our own children but our children’s children. The covenant of family weaves legacy components, and now I had the honor of an additional generation.

But when our son and daughter-in-love found out they had a minute chance of having biological children, we were all devastated. Life changed. Dreams shifted. Future plans were instantly rearranged.

With hundreds of Bible verses addressing the blessing of children, they’d stepped forward offering their family and fertility to Him believing, “Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them” (Psalm 127:3-5a).

So why couldn’t this Scripture be their story?

Infertility isn’t often addressed from a future grandmother’s point of view, but watching your beloved child be filled with such heartbreak and face closed doors is a pain for which I wasn’t prepared. While it’s not a cancer diagnosis or a devastating car accident, that diagnosis changed everything. Yet amidst such disappointment, the Lord has drawn me closer to Himself.

My empathy and sensitivity towards those suffering in silence has increased. One out of every eight women deal with infertility issues. Compound that with the pain that one out of every four women miscarry at some time in their motherhood journey, and we have vast ministry opportunities to encourage and support women at every gathering. For generations, these were topics not talked about amidst the “quilting bees” of life. Stunning statistics sat buried alongside hidden hopes for the future.

If you’ve previously walked this road or are presently pleading for God to expand your family whether as a mother or grandmother, I recognize the grief and exhaustion you’re carrying. On behalf of myself and others who didn’t understand the devastation before, I am so sorry for our insensitivity; I know it can be a lonely journey.

It’s been four years of holding our son and daughter-in-love’s sorrow near to my heart. I’ve wrestled hard with the Lord over this diagnosis and He’s okay with that. I’ll admit that I’ve even gotten a little judge-y, pointing fingers at others wondering, Why them and not us? My sin has bubbled up, yet He welcomes my questions, my cries, and even my dashed dreams. He lets me mourn and then reminds me that His Word will not return void. So as the months turned to years, we were invited to claim Galatians 6:9 as our pillar of hope:

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

With that goal, I’ve decided to usher my heart of sadness into declarations of praise for the Lord’s faithfulness and to walk with those journeying through silent suffering. Does this change our kids’ prognosis? No. Are there still questions and uncertainty? Absolutely. But the same God who opens wombs closes them too, so we persevere and trust in His goodness. I choose to believe His promise of hope in a plentiful harvest because it will come at the Lord’s right and appointed time. I have no idea what that will look like, but I know that every embryo, every baby, and every child matters. And so I wait as God continues to write the story for my children.

While He delights in showing His power through miracles, my expectant prayers have shifted: Lord, please expand their family in any way which brings You the most glory. This is hard, but it’s all for You.

And shouldn’t that be our cry every day? With work or neighbors, family or friends?

Show me how to bring You the most glory, Lord. Every single choice is all for You.

Let’s not become weary in our wait. His harvest is coming.

 

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Learning the Way of Wisdom by Paying Attention

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A short month after we got married, my husband and I moved to Las Vegas — for me to serve at a local church and for him to work at one of the fine dining restaurants in the hotels. We’d planned to live there forever. We were going to raise our children there, commit ourselves to the local church, the people, the city. We bought a house in a growing neighborhood, ready to plant long-term roots in the community. We knew we were right where we were supposed to be, that we were being faithful to God’s call in our lives. So it never crossed my mind that after seven years, we would pack up everything and move away from the place we’d decided to call home.

The move didn’t happen because of a rift in relationships or drama in the church or being let go from our jobs. It was the kind of change that required time and prayer and wisdom to know it was the next right thing to do.

In my younger years, I used to ask God for clarity and direction and then expect an answer to be displayed in lightning bolts across the sky. I wanted the fleece-and-dew kind of answer that Gideon had asked for in Judges 6:36-40 because I was willing to do whatever it was that God wanted me to do as long as it was clear that it was His plan. But getting to that certainty was often filled with doubts and questions because the signs I prayed for were never that clear. My prayers would be repetitions of the same thing again and again: God, just show me what You want me to do! And then, as I tried my best to live out what I thought that was, I’d wonder if I had heard Him or understood Him correctly. There have been times when I have gotten it very right and times when I’ve misinterpreted His leading completely.

For most of my faith life, I fumbled through as best as I could, guessing when I didn’t know for sure and seeking wisdom and direction in external signs, such as a closed door here or a great opportunity there.

But when the time came for our Vegas chapter to be closed, there weren’t any doors that were closing or great opportunities sprouting. Instead, it began with just a sliver of excitement after a visit to Southern California where I’d met with a pastor who shared what God had been doing in the area. Then it was the little things — seeing my husband’s grandparents age more quickly each time we visited, remembering his grandma’s prayer that we would move back to California, recognizing that my heart was beginning to shift in how I felt leaving ministry and Las Vegas, and noticing the quiet confirmations God gave me each time I asked Him if He was sure this was the right thing.

Wisdom can be gained in many ways, and in this situation, I learned how wisdom and discernment comes from paying attention to the movements of God in and around us.

All those things I began to notice was the Holy Spirit at work. He is God with us, who is present in our lives, in this world. As Jesus said to His disciples in John 16:13-15, “But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. He will glorify me because it is from me that he will receive what he will make known to you. All that belongs to the Father is mine. That is why I said the Spirit will receive from me what he will make known to you.”

We don’t need lightning-bolt messages written out in the sky. We don’t have to have fleece-and-dew moments for us to follow the paths God leads us down. In Christ, we have the Holy Spirit who guides us into all truth, who shows us the way, confirming His word to us when we need it.

It took a whole year of paying attention to God’s movements and listening to the Spirit speak to my heart for us to eventually move back to Southern California. And we were able to go with confidence, knowing that whatever we did, wherever we went, God was going to go ahead of us and be with us.

 

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Four Simple, Powerful Questions to Help You Overcome Negative Thinking

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“We might have severe weather this afternoon,” Mark said at breakfast. We both looked out our windows and the sky was clear blue. After we cleared the dishes, I put on my running shoes and sunglasses, then headed out the back door.

I took another look at the sky and realized it had turned menacing. My usual running route takes me past ponds with turtles and fat bullfrogs, white ducks and the occasional blue heron. This was where I really wanted to go. But the clouds were getting closer and I decided to do what seemed safe. I ran small laps around the same block. I stuck close to home. I chose not to go as far.

When I neared our house, I pulled off my sunglasses to wipe sweat from my eyes, and I got a surprise. The sky wasn’t stormy after all. Oh, sure, there were a few gray clouds scattered around but nothing actually threatening.

My glasses are new, and I forgot the lenses make everything look darker. I realized, suddenly, that I had based my actions not on reality but on perception. I could have gone on my usual route. It’s hours later now as I write this and it’s still not raining.

I stood on the trail behind our house and asked myself, “How often have I done the same in other areas of my life? How often have I looked through the lenses of fear and let what I saw hold me back?”

We all do this as humans. Our brains are wired with a negativity bias. In other words, we naturally notice what’s negative more than what’s positive. This helps us survive, but if we’re not careful, it can hold us back from our best lives. When we catch ourselves thinking negatively, it’s easy to be harsh or critical of ourselves. We might feel guilty or wonder if something is wrong with our faith. But that only perpetuates the cycle. Instead we can simply pray, God, thank You for giving me a wonderful brain that is trying to protect me right now. While it can give me helpful information, I only want to take instructions from You. Help me shift my perspective and refocus on truth.

Then we can do a reality check to make sure we aren’t looking through lenses that are distorting what we see. To do so, we can pause and ask these four questions:

  1. What am I telling myself right now? If I do this, I’ll fail.
  2. Am I 100% sure that’s actually true? No, I won’t know until I try.
  3. If not, what do I know for sure is true? I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength (Philippians 4:13 NLT).
  4. Based on what’s true, what’s the next thing I will do? For example, I will apply for the job in spite of the fear I feel.

Even if the person in this example didn’t get the job, they’re still not a failure. They may feel like a failure but that’s only the lens they’re looking through — it’s perception, not reality. Thankfully, God never commands us to feel a certain way; He simply invites us to obey. It’s okay if it takes time for our emotions to catch up with what’s true. What we feel also isn’t our identity. A distorted perspective says, “I’m a failure.” A truth-based perspective says, “I’m a beloved child of God who lives in a world where things don’t always turn out the way I hope.”

Is it hard to practice this process of questioning our perspective? I can say from personal experience, absolutely. Expect inner resistance. And sometimes there will be storms and setbacks in life. That’s unavoidable in this world. What matters over a lifetime is that we don’t let what we perceive have more of a hold on us than what we believe, what we know deep down is true.

Let’s move forward with more courage and clearer vision today.

Have you felt stressed lately? (I understand!) Whether it’s the conflict in our world, everyday struggles, or a personal crisis, you can find encouragement and help in my new devotional book What Your Soul Needs for Stressful Times: 60 Powerful Truths to Protect Your Peace.

 

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The Kindness of Others When Things Are Falling Apart

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It was all set in my mind: Leave Boston at 4:35pm EST, land in Phoenix around 7:35pm PST, walk to my gate, and depart for my hometown in California at 8:18pm PST.

But then we sat on the runway for forty-five minutes because of weather delays. I lied to myself that the shrinking gap was still possible to cross as the flight went on. And then we hit turbulence, which can only be described as one of the few things that immediately spikes my heart rate and causes my mind to decide that it’s never going to get better and that this will be my lot in life for approximately fifteen years. There is no safe landing in my adrenal glands when we hit turbulence.

“I’m sorry, I missed it. What did the pilot say?” I asked the woman beside me.

“He said buckle up.”

“Oh, are you afraid of turbulence?” I questioned, looking for some camaraderie.

“No, I’m not. You?”

“Yes. I am. Just keep telling me it’ll be okay if I seem stressed.” I let out with a nervous laugh.

“Okay,” she said. “And if you really need it, I guess you can hold my hand.”

She was offering what we really want in moments of fear: comfort. This woman who was a total stranger knew that even if she wasn’t a touchy-feely person by nature, her offer of a hand to hold was what my heart needed somewhere over Ohio. I needed someone to advocate for me.

We landed in Phoenix thirty-five minutes late.

I started sprinting with a backpack and a camera bag and a bum shoulder.

I was out of breath so I pushed the Siri button on my iPhone with my headphones still in and breathlessly said, “Call Bre Lee.” Bre lives in Phoenix and is a good talker off-er of ledges. She would reassure me that even if I didn’t make it, she would help me out as a friend in the city I was about to be stranded in. She listened to me run and tell her over and over that I wasn’t going to make it. She sat there while I made myself keep going through two terminals. And when I didn’t make it in time and was greeted by the “Doors Closed” sign, she told me she would be standing by as I figured out the next steps. I needed someone to assure me that I wasn’t alone.

I went on a hunt for customer service. I looked for my bag, which had made the flight to my hometown without me. I was sweaty and aching and toiletry-less. So I called my friend Bailey who was barely still awake and she told me she was so sorry that things were falling apart and I was about to spend the night not in my final destination. I needed someone to comfort me.

The next morning, as I woke up at a hotel in a town I didn’t plan to be in, I went to the roof and was reminded in Psalm 29 that God comes to His people with His power and He gives us strength and peace. I sat there, jetlagged and exhausted, and recalled that the Holy Spirit is an advocate, Someone who comes alongside. And sometimes, we see the shadows of that work of advocacy through the presence of others. We experience their kindness, and it points us to our great Advocate. He’s reflected in the strangers and friends that meet us when things are falling apart.

I got on a flight stand-by. I was the second to last one on that flight to my hometown and when I arrived at the seat, a woman in the spot beside me (who knew the flight was full) looked at me, smiled, and said, “I was waiting for you.”

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Seeing Beauty in My Big Red Dumpster Life

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For the LORD will comfort Zion,
He will comfort all her waste places;
He will make her wilderness like Eden,
And her desert like the garden of the LORD;
Joy and gladness will be found in it,
Thanksgiving and the voice of melody.
Isaiah 51:3 (NKJV)

My eyes squinted into the noonday sun as I hovered my phone camera over a branch of the cherry tree. Each spring, I look forward to the white, velvety blooms from this tree to usher in fresh beginnings.

Out of the corner of my eye, something big and red jarred my peripheral vision. I glanced to my right and within ten feet of the cherry tree sat an enormous, red dumpster.

We were in the process of replacing twenty-year-old carpets, well-loved and worn by children, pets, and occasional house guests. This red eyesore sat on our front lawn as carpet and other flooring were stripped from our house.

Stepping back to take a full-length picture of my beautiful cherry tree, I carefully adjusted my camera, ensuring I didn’t capture any part of the unsightly dumpster for my like-worthy social media picture.

In that moment, the reality of my life hit me. I have been navigating the effects of an autoimmune disease. Chronic illness can be a lonely journey as most people don’t really understand the myriad of symptoms — joint pain, brain fog, extreme fatigue, and other issues. Sure, they’re sympathetic when they first learn about it, but understandably, they just don’t want to keep hearing about your ongoing ailments. So, on social media, I’ve avoided posting anything about my illness. Only pretty pictures and quotes live in my online life.

Behind closed doors, however, it’s tempting to despair when our circumstances don’t change and heart-felt prayers seem to bounce off the ceiling. I certainly did my share of lamenting as I grieved over the loss of my former healthy life.

Isaiah 51:3 reminds us that God will comfort us in our grief — in our waste places. Waste places can feel like dumpsters, holding all the pain we don’t want the world to see. Maybe you’re grieving multiple miscarriages, a loveless marriage, or other broken relationships. Maybe you’re longing for a prodigal child to come home or to hear your loved one’s voice just one more time.

Friends, God promises to comfort us in our waste places and make them like “the garden of the Lord,” where joy and gladness will be found. Sometimes, the Lord plants a garden next to our waste places — like a cherry tree next to a dumpster. Our circumstances may not change, but the Lord’s presence becomes the beauty in our wasteland.

Pain and purpose can co-exist. In the midst of brokenness, there can be beauty. In the midst of misery, there can be majesty. Because the Lord is near.

Our lives can be an anthem to our great God who carries us and plants our feet in the soil of His Word. He is writing a beautiful melody even in the middle of our wasteland because His goodness is with us. There, even in our waste places, we will sing with joy and thanksgiving to the One who created us for we “will be called righteous trees, planted by the LORD to glorify Him” (Isaiah 61:3 HCSB).

As I stepped back, I lifted up my camera and with gratitude, snapped a picture of my cherry tree with the red dumpster — the perfect juxtaposition of beauty and brokenness.

Father, my life is not what I imagined it to be. In my deepest struggles, help me to see Your fingerprints all over my life. Help me to see the splendor that You have planted in my sorrow. You are my strength, my hope, and my comfort. And I will sing my life song to You alone. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Has God put someone on your heart who is going through a hard season? Reach out to her to encourage her about God’s promises and remind her she’s not alone.

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How Turning into Mrs. Doubtfire Taught Me About Wisdom

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Years ago, I caught a glimpse of my reflection as I stepped into the shower, stunned to discover I had somehow slipped on Mrs. Doubtfire’s lumpy bodysuit without realizing it. What was once funny to me instantly felt like the cruel joke of menopause.

Around the same time, I remember shuffling to the bathroom, looking in the mirror, and not quite recognizing the woman blinking back at me. I wanted to chalk it up to an early morning, sleepy-eyed stupor, but I knew better. I had celebrated enough birthdays to know better.

One day you might wake up and feel ancient too, like your best days have passed you by. You’ll wonder, “When in the world did that happen?” as you examine the merciless brushstrokes of age. Graying hair, creeping lines, droopy lids, sallow skin — each may be years in the making, but gosh, they seem to appear overnight.

The struggle with growing older isn’t just about appearance though, is it? There is emotional and psychological impact too. You question if your age is the reason you didn’t get that interview or promotion. Invitations and opportunities dwindle. As an elder member of the Sandwich Generation, you know that when your adult children have problems (financial, job, marriage, health), it makes parenting teenagers look like a cakewalk. And you find out caring for your own parents is unchartered territory, at turns frustrating, heart-wrenching, and flying blind. You struggle with identity, value, relevancy, or purpose. But then, as a follower of Christ, you struggle with struggling because by now, shouldn’t you know better?!

Take heart, friend. What you’re feeling and experiencing is normal. You’re in good company. And today I get to remind you of an important truth you know but may have temporarily forgotten: Yours is a God who is always and only for you! And because of who God is and what He wants for your life, you can trust that He can use whatever you’re wrestling with for your good, His glory, and for the advancement of the gospel.

In fact, when it comes to aging, new doors will open. Lily, my Ukrainian hairdresser-turned-friend of nearly twenty years helped me see this without even meaning to. My long-awaited appointment couldn’t have been more needed; my hair color had faded, my roots had grown out, and patches of white, silver, and gray were threatening a takeover. Lily greeted me as she often has in recent years, “Darling, your wisdom is showing.”

I internalized her words — Your wisdom is showing — and wondered if this could actually be said of me. How was I stewarding my experiences, life lessons, and all God has shown me over half a century? Could it be, by God’s design, that wisdom naturally companions age? A pastor of mine once defined wisdom as seeing life through God’s perspective, and I think we only learn to do this over time and with practice. I wonder if this is what the psalmist was thinking when he penned Psalm 90:12 —

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Haven’t you found that the older you get, the better you understand the brevity of life and the value of today? Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, so how can we make the most of what we have right now? Understanding this ushers in the gift of gaining a heart of wisdom.

As I considered Lily’s words in light of my own issues with aging, I invited God into my vanities and asked Him to fill my insecurities with His assurances. I asked Him to heal my broken places with His love, to remind me of who He is and who He says I am in light of the gospel — to remind me that I’m not made for this world, but while I’m here, I get to share the beauty of a forever kingdom. It doesn’t erase the creeping lines or lift the drooping lids or brighten my sallow skin or tame a wayward brow, but it helps me not to dwell on what doesn’t matter so much anyway and to focus on what does. And honestly, isn’t this all truth we need to contemplate regardless of our age?

When “my wisdom is showing,” it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with God and what He has done and is doing in my life. God used Lily to challenge me not just to embrace my age as a gift but to steward it in a way that serves others and honors Him.

Growing older has revealed my vulnerabilities, inadequacies, and desperate need for God. It has also shown me we’re more alike than not. Aging is the price we pay for life, and it’s worth it. It means we have another day to share the good news of the gospel with someone who doesn’t yet know Jesus.

So, if you catch a glimpse of Mrs. Doubtfire when you’re stepping into the shower, maybe it just means your wisdom is starting to show.

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

Mothering Is All a Great Push and Pull

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I have four kids! It’s an exclamation point to me whenever I say or type it out because my youngest is still so new, only eighteen months old. Sometimes it still catches me off guard that these four little people are mine, that I get to raise these four siblings.

My husband and I didn’t know if we’d be able to have kids at all. It took three years of testing and trying and poking and prodding, ending in a traumatic miscarriage before we had our Sam. After him, I had another painful loss, followed by a long wait before I had Josie. Next, our Clara was a straight up surprise gift, born just fifteen months after her sister. We waited for five years then, letting my body take a breather after it had been stretched and torn and ripped and leaky through five pregnancies. And after five years, my “just one more” prayers became Theo, our family’s exclamation point.

Siblings.

They’re so cute and funny and smart, and also sassy and screamy and really good at throwing a fit. We love being together, and we also love being apart so we can come back together. I love them and want to squish their faces, and I also want one whole day alone by myself.

Sometimes I get so mad that I laugh. Almost every night I’m exhausted, but I stay up too late on purpose because it’s the only time the house is quiet and my brain can complete a sentence. I dream of the future yet also can’t really see beyond bedtime.

Mothering is all a great push and pull. It’s a series of both/ands, of give and take, of holding close and letting go.

I read once that a goldfish will grow to fit the space it inhabits. If it’s a giant pond, the goldfish will swell massive. If it’s a little bedroom bowl, the goldfish will stay small.

And so it is with a mothering heart — growing to accommodate more, cracking and shrinking through pain and longing, spanning seasons and decades and long days and short years.

As Mother’s Day approaches, we know that it is a complex day full of many emotions and experiences. Know that at (in)courage, we are praying for each of you in this season as you remember, celebrate, grieve, or enjoy motherhood and what it means to you. Every single woman who loves, encourages, and nurtures those who become part of the next generation is doing an amazing work and is to be celebrated.

I’m grateful that here at (in)courage and DaySpring, we have some beautiful gifts and resources for and about moms of all kinds. Two of my favorites are the following:

A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom is full of reflections on God’s heart. Featuring unique and diverse stories from the (in)courage community, A Mother’s Love offers heartfelt encouragement to all kinds of moms, whether they’re a mother in a traditional sense, a spiritual mother, or a mother-like figure who breaks the mold. This book is sure to help any woman share a meaningful gift with someone who has been impactful in her life, a new mom learning the ropes, or a close loved one facing the joys and challenges of any stage and type of motherhood. Compiled with all women in mind so we can celebrate those who made us, shaped us, helped us grow, and loved us well, it’s a beautiful gift for the moms in your life.

Oh, Baby! Devotions for New Parents from DaySpring would also make a great gift for a new mom in your life! Each entry reminds her that God is close and is intimately interested in her feelings, worries, and fears surrounding parenthood. She can discover how she can find peace, joy, and grace on this new journey and how God walks with her through every high and every low.

Both of these are perfect gifts to celebrate the mothers, women, and parents in your life!

And to help you celebrate them, we’re giving away FIVE gift bundles that include a copy of each book! Leave a comment on this post telling us about one such special parent in your life, and you’ll be entered to win a copy of A Mother’s Love and Oh, Baby!.

Giveaway is open to US addresses only and ends April 25, 2022 at 11:59pm CST.

 

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

When God Enlarged My Heart for Mercy

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The back of my brown legs stuck to the squishy seat. The air was heavy, ominous perhaps. I was with a collective of Christian college students from across the United States, studying in Central America. We had no idea what we would encounter on this field trip of sorts. 

Before we could see anything, a putrid smell wafted through the windows to our noses. As our group’s big yellow school bus labored through the gate, I saw mountains upon mountains of garbage. The sun’s rays skipped across pieces of shiny metal and swirling colors found among piles of paper and glass. 

Over the next several hours, our group came face to face with the most extreme poverty most of us had ever witnessed. More than 11,000 people lived and worked in that garbage dump in the heart of Guatemala City. We were told 6,500 of them were children. Many of these brothers and sisters made in the image of God were scavengers, who spent their days scouring the garbage for food and anything they might recycle or sell to survive. 

The wheels of our bus crunched over gravel then came to a stop in front of the Potter’s House, a place of refuge right in the center of the garbage piles. We met men, women, and children who had hearts to turn trash into treasure. We heard about the vision of one woman who had built a non-profit that would bring respect and dignity to those who were treated as little better than the trash where they found their existence. Young people were getting their education and pursuing a relationship with Jesus Christ as a result of her dream. As a young college student, my heart was deeply moved by their stories. 

As we drove away that day, many of my classmates started taking pictures through the windows of our bus. I understood they wanted to remember this place, but it felt somehow strange to take photographs. I grabbed my own camera, and my lens focused on a little girl digging through the garbage. Right then my heart surged with fiery emotion. I hurled my camera to the back of the bus. I was filled with something I had never experienced before — a righteous anger that this little girl was forced to survive that way. 

I slumped into my seat and sobbed.

How could little girls grow up in such filth? Why were these people living in such poverty while we lived in such luxury in the country I called home? What could I possibly do to help?

The injustice I witnessed that day was seared in my heart forever. Two decades later, I still think about how that trip to the garbage dump in Guatemala was the beginning of God cultivating in me a heart of mercy and compassion. 

You don’t have to travel to another country to grow a heart of mercy. That was simply where God began to do His deepest work in me. He can stir compassion in us in our own neighborhoods, churches, cities, and even in our own homes.

But before we can offer up the gift of mercy to others, we need to come to an understanding of God’s heart and His great mercy toward us. 

If you go on a treasure hunt through the Bible, you will discover from the pages of Genesis through Revelation that God has a heart of mercy. Biblical mercy differs slightly from our English dictionary definitions of mercy, which often talk about giving people what they do not merit or deserve. God’s mercy is a blend of compassion, kindness, and faithfulness as beautiful and colorful as a handwoven Guatemalan tapestry.

Through Jesus Christ, God displayed both mercy and justice. He sent His son to die on the cross as a substitute for you and me. He met us in our depravity with compassion, and His mercy continues to preserve us through the gifts of forgiveness and salvation.

And as recipients of His mercy, we are called to emulate His mercy.

One way is by having a heart like God’s for the vulnerable. Jesus showed kindness to a woman at a well who had been through five husbands, a paralytic who had been disabled for thirty-eight years, and even a tax collector who was hated by the community. God also cares deeply about that girl in the garbage dump, the young widowed mother raising children alone, and the man suffering from mental illness. He has compassion for the family in Ukraine hiding from the horrors of war. 

Mercy is an invitation to align our hearts with the heart of God and to dignify those around us. It doesn’t require a large bank account or hours of time. Sometimes mercy can be extended through giving up your seat on the bus, inviting a rebellious child into your arms, defending someone who is being shamed, or delivering a meal to a neighbor.

As the Bible reminds us, “Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful” (Luke 6:36).

For weekly encouragement and helpful resources on how to discover God’s glory, subscribe to Dorina’s Glorygram here or follow her on Instagram.

 

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

What to Do When Our Hope Goes Missing

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Several years ago I experienced something that completely shook my foundation of faith. While I hadn’t always managed to find a silver lining for situations that were hard or messy or hurtful, I had kept my grasp firm on my hope that eventually, at some point, things would get better.

Up to that point, I had never doubted that God was good and loving and in control.

Then something new occurred, and I lost my grip. As a writer who appreciates a good metaphor, I keep wanting to tell you my hope became like sand, slipping through my fingers. But the thing about sand is that, though nearly impossible to keep hold of, it also is quite difficult to get rid of. Anyone who’s ever gone to the beach (or allowed kids to play in a sandbox) knows that for days after walking in sand, you keep on finding it — on the floor, in your clothes, between the cushions of the couch. Sand might be slippery, but it does not disappear (even when you want it to).

So my hope wasn’t like sand, but it also wasn’t something I could access, much less hold onto anymore. At every turn, every revelation, every wound that came with the situation I’d never expected but could not avoid, I wondered why and how God would allow something so horrible.

I began questioning everything I’d held dear for a lifetime. I began fearing that I’d gotten it all wrong and that things would, in fact, never get better.

It all sounds quite dramatic now, but in the moment it was devastating. I wanted to hope, but I forgot how. And when I looked around for any signs of my hope I’d previously taken for granted, it could not be found. Hope was not like sand at all.

Throughout that season God never abandoned me. Though I couldn’t see Him, He was still there. I know because eventually my heart began to heal, and my perspective began to shift, and bit by bit I found hope again. I slowly began to steady and started seeing signs of Him all around. He hadn’t gone anywhere; I just hadn’t been able to find Him — or my hope in Him.

I’d love to tell you that was the end of my struggles to hope, but it was actually just the beginning. Over the last few years, since that catalyzing event, I’ve experienced and witnessed several other things that have rocked me to my core. Like so many of us, I’ve practically heard the play-by-play commentator shouting, “And the hits just! keep! coming!”

But unlike that first season of hopelessness, I have learned one thing: When our hope goes missing, we have to become detectives and look for it.

Just like a mom relentlessly tracking down every grain of sand her children’s hands and feet have left behind, so we must be committed to looking in every nook and cranny for hope.

Sometimes hope is big and bold and right in front of our faces. I think of the morning my daughter got baptized or the afternoon my husband and I started counseling. I think of time spent in Psalms or simply meditating on a favorite passage, like Lamentations 3:22-24, that reminds me of God’s new mercies given freely every day. I think of a clean bill of health, a job offer, a particularly inspiring Sunday morning service. Sometimes my hope is so tangible and familiar that I truly feel I can wrap my arms around it. I trust without a doubt — no matter what might be happening in the world, at home, or in my heart — that God is good, that He loves me, and that He has a good plan He will see through for my life.

But other times, hope is like those tiny grains of sand — or clues in a tricky mystery. Rather than believe it is not present or does not exist if we do not spot it easily, we must determine to pull out our magnifying glass and search for it.

Where? Well, each of us will likely find signs of hope — clues that God is still good and still loves us and is still in control — in different places. However, you might try looking for people doing good or people helping others, for flowers or vegetable gardens sprouting after a cold winter. Look for puppy videos. God didn’t have to make puppies, but He did! (Which might be a clue that He is good.) And if you aren’t a dog person, try otters. Otters holding hands — it gets me every time!

Look for sunsets and sunrises and wispy clouds and blanket clouds and skies that look so much like paintings that they actually take your breath away. Look for little kids giggling and old people dancing. Look for memes that so thoroughly capture the human experience that you can’t believe you didn’t think of them yourself.

Listen to music. Listen to the water. Listen to the cars passing by. Pay attention to the prime parking space you snagged at the last minute and the friend who texted just when you needed a kind word. Take a moment to notice the satisfaction of a finished project or a good book or a freshly vacuumed carpet.

Remember a kind word from the past, a gift that delighted you, a relationship reconciled, a scene from a movie that made you laugh out loud. Think back to the last time you were so moved by gratitude or appreciation that you clapped or shouted or simply uttered, “Thank you.”

Even when we begin to believe that our hope is gone, it’s not. We might just need to put on our detective’s hat and look for the clues.

Where have you found hope recently?

 

Listen to Mary’s words below or wherever you stream podcasts!

What if Our Happy Place Isn’t a Location?

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It was a hot summer day in Northwest Arkansas. The back-to-back Zoom meetings in the middle of a pandemic were wearing on me. My overwhelming thoughts were getting loud so I decided to take a walk around the block.

I’ll be really honest with you: I just wanted to quit everything. At the ripe age of twenty-six, I found myself wishing for retirement more days than not. Have you ever caught yourself in this place?

“There has to be more to life than this,” I thought to myself. If you’ve had the same thoughts, there are two things you need to know before we dig in:

  1. You’re in good company and not alone.
  2. Your thoughts are spot on: There is more to life than this place we often catch ourselves in.

Up until this point in time, my happy place had only been a physical location. If you would have asked me what my happy place was, I more than likely would have said any beach along Florida’s scenic Highway 30A or Jackson Hole, Wyoming or hanging with my husband in a cozy coffee shop, even though moments in these places are few and far between.

Why was I wishing and dreaming of escaping from the very place God had called me to? On my walk that day, I picked a random Christine Caine podcast to listen to. Guess what she talked about on the episode? Retirement and how we are called to do kingdom work every day of our lives!

You know those moments when it feels like God is speaking through someone else directly to you? This was one of those. As I took one step in front of the other on my walk, my mind led me to a question that has challenged me to pivot my perspective ever since: What if our happy place is our everyday journey with God?

Trust me, there are days when I look at my own life and I remember picturing it to be so different. I was a public relations major. Have I ever had a PR job? No. I love running and being outside. Do I sit behind a computer screen every weekday for work? Yes. The list could go on and on.

Life often looks very different from how we pictured it, but where God has positioned us is exactly where we need to be. This is where the freeing yet challenging choice we have to make comes in: Would we rather spend our days wishing we were somewhere else or spend our days soaking up the very place where our feet are planted?

Just this week, my friend Olivia said something on the phone that stuck with me. She told me how her pastor refers to our time on Earth as “going camping.” Think about that for a minute: When you go camping, you typically bring a light load with you and have a posture that is expectant for some type of crazy adventure.

Friends, we’re on an everyday journey to do kingdom work until we are called to our forever home. It’s not an arrival moment we are aiming for but a voyage with Him. Our God is not only for us but is with us.

Are you ready to pivot your happy place from a precise location to anywhere He takes you in this life? Ephesians 2:7-10 in the Message Version says it best, “Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is all his idea, and all his work. All we do is trust him enough to let him do it. It’s God’s gift from start to finish! We don’t play the major role. If we did, we’d probably go around bragging that we’d done the whole thing! No, we neither make nor save ourselves. God does both the making and saving. He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join him in the work he does, the good work he has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing.”

There’s no better time than now. Welcome to your everyday happy place!

Tips & Tricks for Creating Your Everyday Happy Place:

  1. Accept your ticket from God to let Him be a part of your daily journey.
  2. Lighten your load. Give your burdens to God and allow yourself to receive grace. It’s the ultimate gift that has no strings attached and requires no transactions.
  3. Get in the Word and really get to know God. Lean not on your own understanding and focus on seeking Him every day.
  4. Spend time in prayer and confiding in God. He truly listens and will find the most creative ways to speak back to you. Instant gratification has nothing on the satisfaction you experience when you start seeing God reveal Himself to you. Come to Him with the good, bad, and everything in between.
  5. Make moves and know that God is with you wherever you go. Love people on your journey and enjoy the abundant life He wants you to have now.

—

Do you need a new perspective on life? Are you looking for cozy, inspiring, guided journal pages that will both meet you where you are and encourage you to keep going? Look no further than the new journal from DaySpring, This Is My Happy Place: A Positivity Journal to Finding God’s Light, by Hope Reagan Harris! In it, you’ll find encouraging messages, fun, interactive activities, and compelling, thought-provoking questions that will lead you to a deeper understanding of yourself and God’s purpose in your life. You’ll be challenged to choose a positive perspective in which, with God’s help, all things are possible. Write your heart out, explore your God-given potential, and find your happy place in the pages of this truly unique positivity journal.

Get your copy of This is My Happy Place today, and for a chance to win another copy for a friend, tell us in the comments below who you’d like to gift a copy to. We’ll be choosing FIVE winners!

Then join Hope and (in)courage community manager Becky Keife for a chat all about This is My Happy Place! Tune in tomorrow, 4/20/22, on our Facebook page at 11am CST for their conversation.

Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes on 4/21/22 at 11:59pm CST.

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

Gratitude Helps Us See There’s More to the Story

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It was painful, and I contemplated why they chose not to attend my wedding. To me, it felt like a boycott — against this new season of my life, against my decision to hold the wedding in Iowa instead of my home state of North Carolina, against my husband being White. My spiral into an abyss of despair was abruptly interrupted by my brother.

“Let’s not be worried about who is not here. Let’s focus on who is here. The people who are here deserve the bride’s attention,” he demanded. 

He was absolutely right. And not only did I need to be fully aware of those who chose to witness the beginning of our union and pay money to plan, travel, and lavish us with gifts, my wedding guests needed to see me reveling in the celebration. My brother’s interruption snatched me off the path to negative nowhere and welcomed me back to the big picture. While it was okay for me to be disappointed that a few people who I counted on to show up to such a special occasion chose to stay home, it was unacceptable for me to allow that to define the day or become the whole story. 

Why do I do this? I settle into brewing over something that hurts, while the joy of accomplishment, celebration, and goodness in general evades me. It’s like allowing nine hours of nighttime to cause me to miss out on fifteen hours of a sunny day. It seems ridiculous and unnatural. I learned, however, that it is quite natural and common to fixate on negative experiences, like mistakes, insults, and disappointments. Brain studies show that there is greater neural processing in the brain in response to negative stimuli, which is why negative events have a greater impact on our brains than positive ones. The sting of a rebuke is more weighty than affirmation and joy. Past traumas linger long past their expiration dates. Bad news demands more of our attention than good. Criticisms overshadow compliments. 

But better than understanding my wiring is knowing God’s desire for me to experience the fullness of His glory. God understands why it’s easy for me to focus on the negative but offers a way for me to revel in the positive.

Paul writes, “In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you” (1 Thessalonians 5:18 KJV).

God helped me see how gratitude overrides the propensity for negativity and allows me to embody the joy of the bigger picture. For example, when I expressed gratitude for the wedding guests in attendance, my mood shifted immediately! I saw the sacrifices that people made to join in our celebration. I saw people who came to witness our new beginning. I saw people investing in our future. I had to rejoice. I had no time for disappointment. My bridal cup runneth-ed over with joy!

Practicing gratitude helps me see the story unfolding from God’s perspective. It helps me anticipate and recognize God’s grace.

Jesus gave thanks in every situation — when prayers were answered, as He performed miracles, in the midst of suffering, at His last supper with the disciples — and He was able to tap into the joy of God’s bigger picture. Inspired by His expression of gratitude, I decided to create my own daily practice.

In the morning, I express gratitude for all the great things that are coming my way that day. As I carpool, my children and I share what we are grateful for about ourselves and why. This allows us to show an appreciation for assets we might otherwise take for granted — our bending knees, hearing ears, seeing eyes, curly hair, melanated skin. We then express our gratitude for the things that touch our lives, like books, friends, and grandparents. At night before bed, I look at the calendar to review events, appointments, and to-do’s for the following day. I say a thank you for each person and project that I get to touch. I then take a moment to reflect on the day’s moments, events, wins, insights, and lessons. And for each I say thank you.

While I don’t pretend that night’s darkness does not exist, in gratitude, it doesn’t overshadow the sunny days.

Friends, it is God’s will that we practice gratitude — not because God needs our praise but so that we don’t miss out on living in the glory of His bigger picture.  

 

Listen to Lucretia’s words via the player below or wherever you stream podcasts!

Empowered to Be Known

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O Lord, you have examined my heart
and know everything about me.
You know when I sit down or stand up.
You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
You see me when I travel
and when I rest at home.
You know everything I do.
You know what I am going to say
even before I say it, Lord . . . .
How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.
They cannot be numbered!
I can’t even count them;
they outnumber the grains of sand!
Psalm 139:1-4, 17-18 (NLT)

My degree is in youth and family ministry, and my first job fresh out of college was working with middle and high school students as the director of youth ministries at a large church. As a former camp counselor, I tried to bring those faith experiences into practice in a congregational setting. For instance, we dug a firepit and had bonfires throughout the summer. And it was at one of these bonfires that I shared a favorite devotion I’d used throughout my camp counseling ministry.

I had each student lick their fingertip and swipe it through the dirt under their feet, then told them to count the grains of sand now stuck to their fingertips. Obviously, there was no way they could. Then I asked them to envision a lakeshore. How many grains of sand are there? How about under the lake water? And what about an ocean beach and the grains of sand that make up the ocean floor? The number is unfathomable. And yet Psalm 139 states that God’s thoughts of us outnumber the grains of sand.

From the looks on their faces, I could see that my students’ minds were blown. And I understood their reaction.

When I was their age — and even throughout college and sometimes as an adult — I never felt like anyone’s top friend choice. I never felt truly, fully, wholly known. No friend was finishing my sentences, no friend could seemingly read my mind, no friend wanted to spend every waking hour hanging out or talking on the phone, and no friend could fully understand my feelings. (Note: I realize these are massively high expectations for a school-age or any-age friendship. I blame the copious number of YA novels I read during those years for raising my friendship hopes and dreams.)

As unrealistic as those dreams were, I still have days when it feels like no one really knows me or wants to take the time and energy to get to know who I am. My husband of almost fifteen years is the one who comes closest to knowing me fully. But even with him there are feelings or reactions I need to explain, parts of my personality that surprise even me, and pieces of me that fall apart with little advance notice.

So it’s mind-blowing to realize that the Creator of the universe thinks of us nonstop, knows every single intricate detail about us, and yet adores us.

Being known so fully sounds enticing and also a little terrifying. I mean, fully known means all the way. Completely. Totally. Every single part. There’s a good reason that no person can fully know someone else: it’s overwhelming. God is the only one who can know us completely, and thank goodness. He doesn’t just see the best, prettiest, and most presentable portions of our selves. God also sees every deep, dark, ugly, secret part, and still He chooses to love us. He sees it all, knows it all, and loves us completely anyway.

Psalm 139 contains so many treasures that can bring calm and joy to our hearts. Because of the truths it lists, we can be empowered to rest in being known. We are knitted together by the One who created the original pattern, the One who chooses us again and again, the One who loves us as we are. We are examined and still adored. What a gift!

Lord, You have searched me and You know me, and still You love me. Thank You for an indescribable love that embraces all of me as I am. Even when I feel unknown by others, help me to remember that Your knowledge of me is a comfort. May I spend my days living into the strength You offer in being known. Amen.

Who comes the closest to fully knowing you? How do the truths in Psalm 139 make you feel?

This article is an excerpt from Empowered: More of Him for All of You.

 

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

Stop Hiding and Show Up as Your Full, Authentic Self

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There was a hole-in-the-wall Indian buffet we used to stop by almost every Sunday on our way home from church. The kids would order the mango lassi and my husband would eat samosas and tandoori chicken with warm soft naan till he couldn’t move. But one day, everything was different. It looked the same, but the flavors and spices were off as if they had poured water into all the curries. I was disappointed and frustrated. In fact, I didn’t understand why it bothered me so much until much later after marinating on it. To me, most buffets adulterate the authentic flavors to make dishes more appetizing for the general public. They water it down to make it consumer-friendly. But that is misrepresenting the food of my country — for profit.

I realized the reason I was so angry was because that was what I had to do to myself for most of my life. I had to water down the Indian part of my identity to make everyone around me comfortable. I would avoid my culture, get rid of my accent, and cater to the dominant or majority culture that I was immersed in. A part of me had to stay hidden so I would be welcomed and given space at tables where I was the only one who looked like me. Personally, I think the hardest part of being an immigrant was giving up so much of my cultural identity to fit into the majority culture but still remain an outsider.

It was only in my thirties that I realized this transformative and liberating truth: God made me Indian. My cultural identity was chosen by the Creator on purpose. It was not accidental. My skin tone, my cultural heritage, my mother tongue were all handpicked for me to display to the world — for His glory and my good. All this time I had been trying to cover it up to make everyone like me, yet it is when I embrace all of me and show up fully and authentically that I don’t simply impress people but I get to influence them.

In 2020, God placed a burden in my heart for Indian women. As I told a friend about this new passion, she immediately responded, “You don’t ever really talk about being Indian.” Without even thinking, I said, “It’s hard when I tried to hide it for so long!”

Esther in the Bible was in a similar place. She was a Jewish girl, but no one in the palace knew. She was now queen and had grown comfortable in the new identity she had adopted so she could belong. But she had hidden her Jewish identity for so long that she didn’t see her people’s struggle. She had to be reminded that she wasn’t safe simply because of her status as queen and that perhaps it was a setup for her to save her people. When it was time to step into her God-given purpose, Esther had to be fully authentic and honest about her cultural identity, even if it meant rejection and death.

I had to do the same. God spoke to my heart, People need to see Jesus in someone who looks like them. So I decided it was time to talk about Jesus but in my own voice as an Indian American woman. I began to share about my struggles with finding identity and what it meant to live in this third culture and raise children in it, which is not always easy. I shared about my love for Indian clothes and food. All of a sudden, women who looked like me from all over the world began to reach out to share their struggles, asking for prayer and advice.

Friends, we don’t need to hide or water down any part of us to fit into culture. God intentionally made every part of us and wired us together. Nothing was accidental. The way we walk and see this world is unique in the same way He made us unique. Therefore, our reasonable act of worship is to surrender every part of us to bring Him glory because the things that make us different are often the very things that point others to the Divine.

To begin the process of authentically showing up, I urge you to invite the Holy Spirit to convict your hearts as you ask this question to yourself: “For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man?” (Galatians 1:10 ESV)

 

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