What if We Chose to Be for One Another?

What if We Chose to Be for One Another?

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Shelves and screws and seemingly random pieces of what would eventually become a wooden cabinet covered the living room floor. It was somewhere around step thirty-one that I knew without a doubt: This was a two-person job. Four hands were needed to ensure the boards would be flush against one another, held securely while dozens of nails were carefully hammered into place.

The half-built cabinet sat in the middle of the room for a few days, waiting for a window of time when both my roommate and I could work on it together. A day or two before our schedules aligned, a close friend called to ask a question that momentarily took my breath away.

“This is kind of awkward,” she stammered, “but I have several single friends that I want to love well and I’m just not sure how to do that. I’m worried that if I ask questions related to singleness, I’ll make them feel sad or I’ll say the wrong thing, so I usually don’t ask anything. But I’m realizing that might seem like I don’t even care. And I really do care. How can I love you and other single people well?”⁣

I froze in place for a moment, touched by her kindness. Until that afternoon, I had never been asked that question by a married friend. What she thought might be awkward was incredibly appreciated. I didn’t feel sad; I felt seen.

I paused and then slowly said, “You know how you think of your husband and kids in one hundred small ways throughout the day? Well, regular life reminds me that it’s just me. Not always in a sad or lonely way, but just . . . practically. This morning I wanted a hug, but no one is here. I’ve had a migraine for three days and for a moment wished there was someone to take care of me, or even just help make dinner. I heated leftovers, which is the norm because most recipes aren’t made for one. I walked by the half-built cabinet and wondered how I’d lift/drag/push it against the wall on my own. Each of these were here and then gone, not sad — just the reality of this particular day. I share because I want you to know: Life will remind me that I’m single; you reaching out reminds me I’m not alone.“⁣

I walked back into the living room, phone in my hand as I dodged the random bits and pieces still piled on the floor. We talked a little while longer, thoughtfully asking and honestly answering questions that helped build an even stronger friendship.

A few days later, I snapped a photo right before securing the last two shelves. Our conversation was still fresh on my mind, and I decided to share part of it on Instagram, along with a handful of questions to ask your single friends when you want to love them well but aren’t sure what to say. In over a decade of writing online, it’s my most-saved post. I’m blinking back tears just staring at that sentence because to me, it means precisely one thing: We really and truly care about one another. We may not know what to say, when to say it, or how to best show up for our friends, but our hearts are for one another.

Sometimes it seems like we’re more divided than ever before, but perhaps most of our thoughtful conversations and gently asked questions are spoken in person. After all, the good, hard, beautiful, generous, and kind work of reaching out, listening, and showing up for people often happens away from the screen. It’s a bit quieter, and sometimes it’s uncomfortable and messy, but I see it in hands building a cabinet together, in women saving a list of questions because they want to love their single friends well, in a phone call from a friend who chose to reach out, opening the door to a conversation that brought us closer together.

Being for each other might just be the best gift we can give one another.

At the end of the day — whether happily single, desiring marriage, dating, widowed, divorced, married, or engaged — it’s true of every single one of us: We all just want to be seen, known, wanted and loved.

Months have passed, seasons have changed, and we’ve talked about one thousand other things since. But this morning I walked by the vase of Valentine’s Day flowers I bought myself, the pop of color and life sitting atop the cabinet, and I smiled. Because while it’s true that being single can be incredibly lonely at times, the cabinet is still standing, built with two sets of hands, a reminder that even when it’s just me, I’m not truly alone.

“Better together” is a catchy phrase, a cheesy cliché, and a popular hashtag. But it’s also the truth. From the very beginning of time, the Three-in-One has shown us that community matters. May we live and love like it’s true.

P.S. Dear married friends, all those things you think aren’t a big deal — the invitation to come over for family dinner, the Christmas card in the mail, the random “Just thinking of you!” text — they matter more than you’ll ever know. Your kind questions, your genuine care, and most of all your friendship mean the actual world. Thank you!

The Risk and Gift of Being Honest About Anxiety

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I put my hand on my husband’s heart.

“It’s like there is an engine in my chest. And it’s revving, revving, revving for no reason. That’s what this anxiety feels like.”

His look of confusion didn’t really change.

“So even if my mind is fine, even if I know I’m okay and I’m not worried or stressed about anything in particular, my body is still being flooded with all this unnecessary energy. And then the sensations in my body try to tell my mind that I’m not okay. This battle to keep my mind and spirit calm and focused on what is true while the engine in my chest keeps spinning and roaring — well, it’s exhausting.”

I leaned my head on Chris’s shoulder and tried to slow my breathing.

My husband and I don’t speak the same emotional language. Mine has a lot of words; his, not so much. We also have trouble communicating about mental health. It’s another language rooted in experience I’ve had a crash course in since being diagnosed with clinical anxiety seven years ago — a language I wish that I and others close to me would have had decades ago because I’m pretty sure this has been a life-long struggle. Even though my husband loves me and wants to support me, it’s hard for him to understand me. So when my anxiety recently flared, seemingly out of nowhere, I grappled yet again over how to explain it.

It feels strange to say this, but that image of a car engine inside my chest feels like God’s grace. It’s His mercy — His ever-present help in times of trouble — that becomes everyday real when He meets my real need with His creative wisdom.

I’ve tried a hundred different ways to put my anxiety into words. It’s not the same as worry or stress. It’s not trying to control a situation or merely fixating on a problem. It’s a physiological experience. Like coffee jitters in my heart. Like the mental swirl of a dozen waking dreams that you can’t escape. An outer calm with an inner chaos. Like an exposed nerve that viscerally reacts when it touches something too hot or too cold.

I can’t tell my husband to just Google anxiety because no single definition or description can aptly capture an individual’s experience. Mental illness is a nuanced beast that attacks every person differently. I have a friend whose arm gets itchy when her anxiety flares. Another friend gets a migraine. Someone else I know gets mentally stuck in every worst-case scenario.

The unique manifestations of mental illness can make it a very lonely experience.

Am I making this up? Should I just keep it to myself? Should I try to ignore it and move on?

The internal battle is real. But here’s what I’ve learned: It’s worth it to push through the pain, fear, and awkwardness to tell someone how you really feel.

It’s actually God’s grace that I would even ask Him for help in putting my anxiety into words. For years I believed it was better to hide, deny, or defend my feelings. It felt safer to self-protect rather than open up my vulnerable heart and hurting mind to the chance of being misunderstood. And it’s a very real possibility, right? I’m sure it’s happened to you too. Others can minimize your feelings, dismiss your experience, give poor advice, or tell you to just get over it.

Even so, there is power in bringing our struggles out of the darkness of isolation and into the light of shared experience.

When I refuse to hide, I open myself to the light. Shame can’t live in the light. Fear doesn’t grow in the light. Freedom and growth and truth are songs of the light — songs that someone else needs to hear.

So I stand in my kitchen resting my head on my husband’s chest as morning light streams through the smudged window, and I know that God sees me. No inner darkness can hide me; His Word will guide me.

And I remind myself that my revving engine chest does not disqualify me from receiving God’s promises.

I whisper the words written on my heart: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:13).

I trust you, Lord. I trust you.

My heart races on for the moment, but I know that I am held and loved. And so are you.

 

Listen to Becky’s words below or on your favorite podcast player!

Teaching Our Kids to Welcome Others In

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I’m willing to bet that, like me, you don’t have to reach too far into your memory to recall a time you stared down a middle school lunchroom situation. Whether you were thirteen or thirty-three or sixty-five, you’ve been in a set of circumstances that asked you to strike the balance of being a new person in an established group while doing your level best to not look like you’re 100% aware of that fact. It’s a hard place to be, yes. And if you’re a parent or have beloved children — big or small — in your life, it’s even harder to witness those precious kiddos going through the same thing.

When I think back to the times when my own children, military brats who’ve been the new kids more than once, struggled to break into a circle, I remember their own discouragement — and my maddening frustration.

I can tell you where I was driving when one child mentioned introducing himself to others in a new class only to be ignored.

I can tell you what dinner I stirred when another child returned home early from visiting a brand new youth group because the kids had laughed at her for moving too slowly in a game.

Of course, it’s always possible to catch a person or group on an off day, and we always encourage our kids to never give up over a single, less-than-stellar interaction. But when the new kid repeatedly gets up the gumption to introduce him or herself, to try to make their way into a new group, only to be met with a lackluster response? Well, it stirs up some feelings.

When I think back to my own school years, in particular my high school years, I’m embarrassed to say I don’t remember intentionally seeking out the new kids myself. I lived in the same town my whole life, and by and large, friends were always there. Since I had my people, I remained blind to those who didn’t.

It wasn’t till I married my US Air Force man and moved across the country to a state where I knew no one that I received my first taste of what it’s like to be on the outside in a more sharply defined way. Furthermore, watching my kids go through frequent school transitions removed that blindspot for good.

I talk with friends who can relate about watching our kids light up like megawatt bulbs when someone breaks open the circle to let them in. And how the opposite can be so dark and discouraging. While our kids have formed meaningful friendships in a variety of places and circumstances, there were times when they couldn’t because everyone in the group had their people — and the people weren’t interested in new people.

Of course, we all have limited bandwidth and can’t be good friends with everyone we meet. But with a new person here or there? We have more bandwidth than we may think. Jesus had His longtime friends, yes. But He always kept His eyes and heart open to welcome new people in as well. Perhaps the Lord is asking us to welcome someone new into our lives or be a bridge between a new person and someone else we know.

But for that to happen, we must accept this reality:

To do as Jesus did, we must be okay — and teach our kids to be okay — with stepping away from the circle, momentarily placing ourselves on the outside so we can reach someone else on the outside. Will it feel awkward? Oh yes. But like with anything, the more you practice it, the easier it gets to welcome others in. The more you practice it, the more you’ll find it’s worth the awkward.

Let’s keep encouraging our kids to persevere as they find their place and people. If that’s your child today, know I’m praying that God would put a local Jesus-loving friend on the path who sees your child as the gem he or she is. Remember that if Jesus had His friends, He desires our kids and the rest of us to have friends too. I know it’s painful to watch our children struggle to find their people within a particular setting. But in the struggle will come growth and maturity. With those good qualities, God will surely form our kids’ hearts to see those on the outside and be inclined to welcome them in as well.

And if our kids do have their place and people, let’s honestly evaluate if we can do better by teaching them to cast their nets wider. In the process, may we both mention and model the importance of stepping outside of our circles, offering the hand of friendship to someone new, and welcoming them in.

For more encouragement in your journey to belonging, check out Kristen’s book, Back Roads to Belonging: Unexpected Paths to Finding Your Place and Your People.

 

Listen to Kristen’s words on the player below or wherever you stream podcasts!

Love Is the Catalyst for Courage

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Penny was the runt, the smallest kid on the playground in a new place to call home. We had landed in this unfamiliar Michigan town just three days prior, both grieving over what we’d lost and longing for what we knew. But this day at the playground promised to bring reprieve for our hurting hearts.

We got there early and planted ourselves close to the swirly green slide. My girl loves a swirly slide, especially if it’s green. Up she went and down she came, over and over again until I heard the familiar “Mama, help” from my curly-headed toddler whose legs were too tired to climb up the fortress once more. So up I went and down I came, over and over again until she regained her strength and independence.

That’s about when all the other kids descended upon her solitary playtime. Penny was halfway up the wooden stairs when two excited peers barreled past her on their way to the top. My girl stood frozen, clinging to a post in wide-eyed terror. She silently crouched down in an attempt to make herself invisible to the flurry of energy buzzing by.

As soon as the coast was clear, she called out with tears streaming down her face. Still crouched in her corner spot, I swooped her up and carried her to a nearby bench. We snuggled for a bit, then I knelt down and peered into her glassy eyes. “Penny, I know that was scary, but you can be brave because Mama will be right here.” Then her little hand squeezed mine as she responded, “Okay, Mama,” just before running off to conquer the swirly green slide once again.

That’s when it hit me: Courage is derived from connection.

Loneliness doesn’t lend itself to bravery, but love has always been a catalyst for courage. It’s why a Roman soldier risked his reputation to ask Jesus to heal a servant (Luke 7:1-10). It’s why a group of men tore a hole in the roof of someone else’s property and lowered down their paralyzed friend on a mat (Luke 5:18-26). It’s why Peter walked on water (Matthew 14:22-29). It’s why Jesus gave up His life (Matthew 27:32-56).

Belonging begets bravery.

For the longest time, I didn’t think I belonged anywhere or to anyone. Isn’t that the enemy’s favorite tactic? We are more easily discouraged and defeated when we’re made to feel alone. The power of community is that it infuses courage to show up for the life God has given us, so the enemy knows deterrence begins with isolation.

There’s a woman in the Bible who experienced this dichotomy firsthand. She was a Samaritan, despised by Jews, but more than that, she was ostracized by her own people. Her lack of connection colored the way she walked through the world. John 4:6 tells us she traveled to the community well to get water at noon, which would have been unusual since it’s also the hottest time of day. This was strategic for her, though, since the morning rush meant hushed voices and disapproving glances. She did not belong, and she knew it.

You can imagine her trepidation when a Jewish man named Jesus began to strike up a conversation with her. She knew her reputation around town, and she knew the racial tension that existed between Jews and Samaritans. Surely this would not end well.

Like He always did, Jesus broke down the racial and gender barriers to connection. He painted a picture of belonging, the very thing she needed to unlock a life of freedom. Belonging to the Messiah changed everything for this Samaritan woman. Instead of avoiding community, she ran to it. Instead of shutting others out, she invited them in. Instead of sitting on the side lines, she showed up for her life. Belonging made her brave.

It did the same for me too.

Community isn’t tidy, and I have rarely walked away unscathed, but the courage it gives has shed light on the devil’s lies. Now, as I raise my own daughter, I want her to watch me choose connection over isolation. I want her to see me step toward those who are different than me, to watch me elevate the ostracized, to hear me offer belonging that makes people brave. And because courage is contagious, she’ll show up for people too.

If you can’t have courage without connection, then connection will be my legacy.

This article was written by Maggie Johnson in February 2020.

 

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Empowered to Be Strong + a Launch Day Giveaway!

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Do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be afraid, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you; I will help you;
I will hold on to you with my righteous right hand.
Isaiah 41:10 (CSB)

Like millions of moviegoers, I love superhero stories. In particular, I’ve enjoyed watching (repeatedly) Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel. Certainly, it’s fun to cheer for these women as they take on villains and emerge victorious, especially when we’re used to seeing mostly men in such heroic roles. But what moves me most is the moment when each of these superheroes steps into her power and realizes her role in the supernatural war being fought.

In Wonder Woman, we see Diana climb out of the trenches, intent on helping those in need, and then walk through a storm of bullets to allow her team to advance safely behind her. As she plants her feet and holds up her shield for cover, the music swells and she doesn’t say a word. We don’t know what’s going through her mind as bullets rain down on her and she’s attacked by what feels like an endless amount of ammunition. We hear the music and watch her take hit after hit, and we see her standing strong the whole time.

In Captain Marvel, when Carol Danvers faces down her biggest opponent, it happens within her subconscious. For much of this internal battle, we see her sitting on the floor, restrained and unmoving. Those observing her from the outside have no idea of the war raging in her mind as the enemy tries to thwart her efforts to save entire worlds.

In both stories, these supernaturally strong women are fighting battles that we cannot fully comprehend. In both stories, they are only able to defeat their enemies after ignoring their team’s advice to stand down or their enemy’s taunting to give up. They are victorious only by unleashing the inner strength and power they had been given.

Now, you and I are not superheroes. Obviously I know that, no matter how many times I’ve watched those movies. However, I do think we have a lot in common with Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel.

How many times have you fought a battle that nobody else could see? How many times have you been under siege and on the verge of collapsing while standing strong on the outside? How many times have you looked at the challenge in front of you and been told, “You can’t do it”? How many times have you taken stock of your situation and told yourself that?

“I can’t do this.”

How often have I whispered, shouted, cried those words? I’ve lost count. I’m sure God knows, though, how many times I’ve realized that I cannot bear the burdens of the world or even just those that affect me personally. I trust that God knows every single time I’m fighting a war, even if nobody else notices.

So many of us are fighting battles that nobody else knows about. Addiction. Abuse. Chronic pain. Crippling debt. Anxiety. Struggles with our kids, our marriages, our friendships, our careers, our churches. We go to war alone, exhausted, and relying solely on our own strength.

No wonder we feel like giving up and shouting, “I can’t do this!”

The good news is that while we are never going to become superheroes, we are given supernatural strength by God. He never asks us to be strong enough to fight every battle — or any battle! Instead, He promises to be with us, to help us and protect us, and to give us the strength we need.

No matter what challenge you’re facing today, you aren’t facing it alone. And you don’t have to do it on your own. Ask God to give you strength, and do not be afraid, for He is your God.

Heavenly Father, I’m not a superhero, and I need Your help. This thing I’m facing is too much, and I can’t handle it on my own. I can’t do this. Please give me strength to face the struggle, to fight what I need to fight, and to rely on You through it all. In Jesus’s name, amen.

Reflect:

  • What battle are you fighting that might be invisible to most people?
  • How are you asking God to stand with you and give you strength?
Empowered to Be Strong was written by Mary Carver as published in Empowered: More of Him for All of You.

Ever feel like you’re both not enough and too much, at the same time? Wonder why ‘you go girl’ statements feel good for a minute, then fizzle? Us too. . . so we wrote a book about where our empowerment really comes from.

Empowered: More of Him for All of You, by Mary Carver, Grace P. Cho, and Anna E. Rendell includes sixty Scripture passages and devotions that invite you to see from different angles how God empowers us, and each ends with prayer and reflection questions to deepen your learning.

Empowered: More of Him for All of You is unlike any other book we’ve ever written at (in)courage, and it’s available today!

We’re celebrating this super special devotional with a major giveaway. Leave a comment telling us which devotion title speaks to your heart (sign up below to get the table of contents + five sample devos or see them on Amazon), and you’ll be entered to win this empowered gift bundle!

We’re celebrating this book, yes, yet really we’re celebrating our Maker and the way He made us to flourish in the Spirit. It’s our prayer that as you read this book, you’ll be empowered in every part of your being to live fully as God created you to be.

Sign up today and we’ll send you five FREE devotions from Empowered!

 

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A Love Beyond the Pink and Red Hearts

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Valentine’s Day can stir up so many memories, both good and bad, hopeful and disappointing, meaningful and forgettable.

Back in grade school, we would get to go all out and decorate our own card boxes, which I always thought was just the best. Then we would walk around the classroom and put our sweet Valentine cards into each person’s box, secretly hoping to get one from someone extra special. It was so much fun to look at each card.

In high school, just a simple card was no longer enough. Valentine’s Day was turned into elaborate shows of affection. Deliveries were made throughout the day, and we would wait to see if our name would be called to come to the office for something after school. Chocolates, balloons, stuffed animals, and flowers would line the office floors, and everyone thought you were so special and lucky and loved if your name was called to have a special Valentine to take home.

My high school boyfriends always joined in the show, and I felt so bad for the disappointed hearts that day — the ones who’d wished they had received that extra show of love. Looking back, I know that just because you got the big, showy Valentine’s gift delivered to school for everyone to see, it didn’t mean you had a great love and a perfect relationship. That just wasn’t the truth.

Then there’s Valentine’s Day as a married couple. Women often see amazing, grand gestures splashed across social media or displayed in romantic movies. We might think that our husbands should be doing the same things or that they’re not romantic enough. First off, we don’t know what’s really happening behind closed doors in the marriage of the woman who’s posting all the over-the-top things her husband did for her on Valentine’s Day. Second, romantic movies are just that — movies, written to sound and look perfect. And third, our husbands often might show their love in other ways.

From grade school to high school through marriage, I see a continuing thread: We just want to be wanted. We want to feel wanted. We want to be shown that we are wanted. It’s more than just the feeling of being wanted by a crush, a boyfriend, or a husband. We also want to feel wanted by others — by friends, a team, a group. And when we aren’t, we feel disappointed or less than.

In reality, no human can fill the love gap in our hearts. All of us are broken, with imperfections, flaws, and shortcomings. But the One who can truly fill us, the One who’s always wanted us is God.

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!
1 John 3:1 (NIV)

We are wanted. We belong. We are loved. We are His. He loves us deeper and wider than any human can comprehend, and we are part of the greatest love story every created.

It’s a love that goes beyond all the pink and red heart-shaped boxes, chocolates, flowers, wooing, or whatever other ideal we have in mind for Valentine’s Day. Those things will never satisfy even though we think they will in the moment.

Nothing in this world will compare to the demonstration of love Christ showed for us on the cross.

Friends, we belong to Love Himself. Delight and rejoice today in the truth that you are fully, unconditionally, and eternally loved by a man — by a God — who gave His life for you. What we have longed for all along, we already have in Him.

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:38-39 (ESV)

 

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

Reassurance When God’s Pace Feels Slow

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Confession: Some of the worst moments of my life have happened while I was going too fast.

I’m not talking about the speeding tickets — there have been a few — or the time, in my typical rush, I knocked the water glass to the floor, shattering it into a thousand pieces. I’m talking about bigger things — the way that, in a hurry, I have cut short meaningful conversations with people who needed me to listen or the times when I have rushed my kids or shut someone down with my body language, all because I was running behind.

I was at my worst when I was a young mom. I would fantasize about how I might be able to coordinate the kids’ naps for just forty-five minutes so I could squeeze in some work — as if those forty-five minutes were the real work I was called to do.

People have this romantic idea that because we live on a farm, our lives are slower paced. But the truth is — like almost everyone I know — we succumb to the enchantments of faster, bigger, stronger too.

Our culture has trained us to want quick fixes. It seems everyone is selling a faster way to grow your business, lose weight, make a buck. We get tempted to order life around hustle and achievement, which leaves us anxious, weary, and tense. These are the symptoms of what I call “a hurried heart.”

There is no pill or magic cure to fix a hurried heart. The cure is “an inside job.” And that cure starts here: by making a commitment to a life of growing slow.

When I examine the Biblical narrative, I find the courage to take a growing-slow approach to life. The Bible is a story unfolding slowly as God’s people move through times and places to experience His faithfulness.

God’s seeming slowness exasperates people. The Israelites’ journey from the wilderness to the promised land, for instance, must have felt like forever. And then the people had to wait many generations for the promised Messiah to come. When Jesus did arrive, He lived an unrushed, unhurried pace — walking from village to village, taking the time to heal, listen, and teach. But Jesus didn’t always show up when and where people wanted Him to, and that caused frustration.

Think on this for a moment: The Biblical story isn’t even over yet! There’s a big part of the story we are still waiting for — the second coming of Christ. But even that kind of slowness is for our benefit. “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9 NLT).

This is the way of our Lord — slow, steady, unhurried. Just as He led the Israelites to the promised land, He is leading you. There’s a fascinating story in Scripture that gives me comfort when I don’t instantaneously see results in my life.

In the story, the Israelites have been delivered from slavery. They are in the wilderness on their way to the promised land. God explained to them how He would drive out the Hivites, Canaanites, Hittities, and others to make way for the Israelites to claim their promised land.

“I will not drive them out in a single year, because the land would become desolate and the wild animals too numerous for you. Little by little I will drive them out before you, until you have increased enough to take possession of the land” (Exodus 23:29-30 NIV, emphasis added).

God could have given them the land all at once. But He knew a better way: little by little.

Take a look at those verses again. Notice the apparent consequence of giving over the land all at once: “ . . . the land would become desolate and the wild animals too numerous for you.”

“Little by little” is how God chooses to roll sometimes. And that might be for our own good.

You are likely eager to jump into your promised land right now. You may feel impatient. But get a little quiet. Go a little slower. God knows what He’s doing. He’s moving you forward, little by little.

Dear Lord,

I confess that I am sometimes in a hurry and don’t like to wait for Your hand to move. Your Word says that You are not slow in keeping Your promises, as some understand slowness. Help me to live in the promise that You will move things forward in Your will, in Your way, and in Your timing. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

—

We love what Jennifer Dukes Lee writes about in her latest Bible study, The Growing Slow Bible Study: A 6-Week Guided Journey to Un-Hurrying Your Heart, which is excerpted here today. In this study, she helps you:

· gain the courage to slow down and enjoy your life
· uncover surprising truths that will help you grow, even in difficult seasons
· lay down burdens you’ve been carrying and receive God’s healing
· find value in the good things you are already growing.

Order your copy today and enter to WIN a copy! To encourage you to live a life of growing slow, we’re giving away FIVE copies of Jennifer’s Bible study book! Leave a comment telling us one way you want to commit to slowing your life down.

Then join Becky Keife and Jennifer for a chat all about the Growing Slow Bible Study! Tune in tomorrow on our Facebook page at 11am central for their conversation.

Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes on 2/16/22 at 11:59pm central.

When the Symptoms Reveal Something Deeper Within

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In January, I made it super clear to myself that I wanted to reflect on the past year — which honestly meant reflecting on the last two years because it’s all been a blur. I didn’t feel ready or emotionally sturdy enough to make actual goals, but I knew I could look at actions from the last year that were fruitful and ones that weren’t.

Some of the reflection time came in the form of a move in December (of all months!). We had bins unopened from the last move, items in drawers that served no purpose, droves of clothing the kids had outgrown and could be given away. All my collecting had to be undone, and it was really annoying and uncomfortable to face the ways in which physical items made me feel comfort — if only for a short time. 

When I was a child, our family grew up on welfare. There is no shame in that and the ways in which it shaped me. But to that end, we just didn’t have a lot of things. And if we did, it was definitely from a garage sale, second-hand. We lived off the extras of others for a long time, and while we never went without, there was always this thought in the back of my mind that there was never enough. 

This way of thinking — and, in effect, living — trickled into our marriage. We barely had enough to make ends meet. Date night was scrounging for change in the couch to snag an M&M McFlurry. We were always scrambling from paycheck to paycheck, and then throw in a new baby — finances were tight! But I had grown up knowing how to be resourceful. I was scrappy. I took coupons out of my neighbor’s recycle boxes so I could use them that week, and I saved everything — scraps of fabric, tissue paper from presents, leftover food just in case. Birthday money sometimes went to groceries. It was nothing to feel sorry about for ourselves; it was just how it was. And I truly believe being poor served me for a time. 

But what about when what used to be helpful becomes a hindrance? No matter how successful I’ve become financially, I have a nagging voice in my head that tells me there’s not enough. So if I see a ceramic duck I like at the thrift store (I know, really niche lake decorating over here!), I think twelve ceramic ducks will make me even happier! If one pair of nice, stretchy denim fits amazingly, I bet thirty-four pairs would make my body feel even better! If one glass of wine is nice, wouldn’t four be even more satisfying? If one craft project is so relaxing after a busy season, I should buy supplies for twenty craft projects! You can see how this thought process can become life-disrupting and unhelpful. 

As I reflected on the past two years of deep discomfort and pain, I saw personal patterns which no longer served me. Just as a gentle, light snow can accumulate over time to bring the roof down, my feelings of lack were making me feel heavier and heavier. It was only when I felt my own roof begin to crack from the weight of all my things that I finally turned to God and asked Him to change me. And I don’t mean my behaviors. I needed Him to change me from the depths of my soul and show me His abundance for me — how He’ll always provide, how He always has. 

I often think if I can just change my outward behavior, it will do the trick. But as I get older, I’ve learned our souls crave so much more than playing whack-a-mole with our actions. In the end, it takes repentance from the core issue and asking God to change me because I can’t do it in my own strength. The process is generally much slower than I like, and I have to sit in the mess, the pig pen, until I decide I no longer want to feast on rotten scraps when my Father has a real feast prepared for me. 

 But when he came to himself, he said, “How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger!  I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you.”
Luke 15:11-32 (ESV)

I am the one so desperately in need of God to meet me in my brokenness. I am the one who needs to come to my senses after leaving home and to trust that God’s gentle love will find me, no matter how far I tend to stray. The best news is this: You are not so far gone that He can’t find you. His abundance is available and accessible to you even now. And your mess is not so disastrous that His mercy cannot save you. Thanks be to God!

Here’s to the Ten-Second Miracles Around Us

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A couple years ago, my husband and I ran into one of our favorite coffee shops for a caffeine fix. I expected to leave with a vanilla latte in hand. I did not expect to be reminded that God does miracles in His time, in His space.

I really did not expect to find this reminder on a package of coffee. And I especially did not expect this illustration to come from a play in a football game.

See, while we were waiting at the counter for our drinks to be made, I spied a package of “Skol Vikings Blend” coffee near the counter.

We live in Minnesota, where the Vikings are our hometown football team, and that coffeeshop chain had created a special blend in their honor. We are a semi-low-key football family. We watch games every week without fail, mostly because our son absolutely loves the game – loves it – and the Vikings are his team. He used his own money to join the Vikings Kids Club, roots for his beloved Vikes no matter what the scoreboard says, dresses in jerseys and eyeblack whenever possible, and plans to be a Viking when he grows up. He’s brought his sisters into loving the game and has big plans for teaching his baby brother how to play when he’s a little bigger.

My boy has turned me into a fan too — especially of the family time watching the game brings. All that in mind as I stood at the coffee shop counter, I thought it would be fun to bring home some “football coffee,” so we bought the bag of beans along with our lattes and headed back to the car to complete our errands.

Then right there in the passenger seat of our minivan, I teared up as I read the description on the side of the package:

Just like a good cup of coffee, the Vikings have a special way of bringing us Minnesotans together. As we cheer on the team to rock ’em, sock ’em, and fight fight fight each week, we learn that when us Northerners come together as one, there’s not much we can’t accomplish. And that ten seconds is plenty of time for a miracle.

That last sentence, right on the back of the bag of coffee beans, stopped me right in my tracks.

In 2017, during a game — the final ten seconds of the game, to be exact — Minnesota Vikings player Stefon Diggs caught a twenty-seven yard pass and ran it to the end zone for a touchdown as the clock ran out. The announcer went absolutely wild (as did the stadium), and he excitedly hollered that it was “a Minneapolis miracle.” The title and clip of the play went viral — you can see the “miraculous” play here. I vividly remember this game, mostly because my husband whooped so loud that our football-loving son got out of bed and came downstairs, and then we let him stay up and watch the replay.

Ten seconds is all it took for this play to make record books, to get millions of hits on the internet, to be called a miracle, to change history for a few folks.

And isn’t that so reminiscent of the true miracles of God?

How long did it take for Jesus to do His miraculous form of multiplication with a few loaves and some fish? How about when He swapped water for wine? With crowds gathered in both of those locations, hungry and thirsty, I can’t imagine that Jesus took a long time making these miracles happen. People were waiting.

Sometimes God keeps us waiting. Other times, all He needs is ten seconds.

Okay, so I’m not actually comparing the “Minneapolis miracle” to those listed in Scripture, but it did remind me to take pause and remember how many times the miracles in life have taken very little time — when the car stops just in time to avoid being hit by an oncoming car, when I catch my toddlers’ hand just before the van door closes on it, when the diagnosis comes in and they say it was caught in the nick of time, when the phone call is made minutes before the decision comes through and the conversation changes the final decision. You know what I mean? How many times have we cut it too close for comfort and whispered, “Oh, thank you God!”?

And that’s just the protection kind of miracles.

When I raise my eyes from this computer, I see my four children who are absolutely miraculous in their own right, especially considering the years of infertility and miscarriages that came before and alongside them. All people, really, are total miracles. So very many things have to happen correctly in order to fully develop a human being, with all neurons firing, bodies forming, hearts beating. Each person is a miracle, right there in plain sight.

And then to look outside my window and see the blue sky, the frosted trees, the wonder of snowflakes — each one entirely unique. To hear music pouring from my speakers, artists gifted with both word and voice. To enjoy the transformation coffee goes through as the beans are ground and hot water is poured through. To watch the way ingredients come together, changing from eggs and flour and butter into warm cookies (anyone else think of that scene/quote from Friends? “Ten minutes ago this was all just ingredients!”) To hold a loved one’s hand. There are more miracles in plain sight, beckoning to be seen.

So today, I raise my mug to you. Here’s to the ten-second miracles all around us. May we see them for ourselves. May we be them for one another.

 

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Trusting God for What We Can’t See

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The sound outside was quiet. Did it snow? That muffled sound, early in the morning during a Colorado winter, usually means an overnight snowfall came calling. When I opened the blinds, however, I could hardly believe my eyes — a wall of fog. It was a fog so thick we might’ve awakened in San Francisco or Point Reyes or Cape Disappointment, that foggy place with the sorrowful name in another foggy place, the state of Washington.

But here in bone-dry Colorado, I could barely see the house next door. This fog was crazy thick — so dense and cold that the weather report on my phone described it with a name I’d never heard: “freezing fog.”

“What’s that?” my husband Dan asked, grabbing his phone. He Googled, and we sat on the side of our bed, looking through photos of this odd (to us) but sometimes beautiful weather wonder.

And that should’ve been the end of it.

But I kept checking to make sure the fog wasn’t something actually bad, such as smoke. I worried because, just a few days before, a raging wildfire torched through entire neighborhoods in nearby Boulder County, leaving more than 1,000 homes reduced to piles of ash. Some 30,000 people were now suddenly homeless, their former homes just smoking rubble.

My head was swirling with these facts and images, and we hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. Why couldn’t I just relax?

Things didn’t look up, even when Dan noted the actual weather forecast for the day — “sunshine and clear skies.” When? In one hour.

Still in our pajamas, we both scoffed. “Wrong,” he said. “We can barely see across the street.”

“Sunshine?” I laughed. “Did I type in the right zip code?”

But you know where this story is going. Because sure enough, in less than an hour, the sky outside had steadily cleared and was now awash in bright blue. Fog all gone. Not one cloud in a sparkling sky. Sunshine pored down from the heavens, the fog only a memory. I’d seen that kind of “burn off” during a visit to San Francisco. But here, where fog is rare, I’d struggled to believe blue skies and sunshine could arrive after such a fog-frozen morning.

Standing at a window, I shook my head, berating myself for the morning’s entire episode. I’d awakened to freezing fog, but the Lord was sending a sunny day — whether or not I could believe it.

So, is my trust that weak? Or, as I asked Dan, “Do I only trust God for what I can already see?”

I sat with the question because, most days, I think of myself as a trusting believer. (You probably think this, too.) I even grew up singing old hymns about trust:

Trust and obey, for there’s no other way
To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.

I’ve also written countless times about trusting God. One devotional cited Isaiah 26:3, “You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.”

Steadfast minds trust God, my humble devotional said, because they know God. When King Uzziah died, and ungodly rulers came to power, Isaiah wondered, along with everybody else in Judah, Who can we trust?

God responded by giving Isaiah a vision that convinced the prophet that God is totally and absolutely dependable, and those who know Him believe Him with blessed assurance.

But when our minds are fixed on God — not on people, piffles, and problems — we learn to know His ways, character, and promises. He is our God who keeps in perfect peace all those who stop worrying over our not-yet troubles and instead trust Him. He is our trustworthy Lord and Friend.

Even on the foggiest of days, in the most confusing of times, we can trust Him — even for what we can’t yet see. Blue skies and sunshine, too? We might not see it now. But if we know God, we can bet our life His sparkling help is on its way.

 

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Sickness Can Help You Be a Blessing

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Last year, I thought our family had sailed through the cold and flu season untouched, but then my daughter woke up with the full-blown flu. Recently, we dealt with all the COVID symptoms without a positive diagnosis as a family.

Instead of frustration or feeling defeated, God has been showing me that cold and flu seasons — and even COVID — are true spiritual opportunities.

What if this time is a chance to please the Spirit? What if wiping noses, catching throw up, and washing loads of dishes and germy laundry could bring an everlasting harvest? When you or your loved one wakes up with an illness and your day, month, or year gets rearranged as you sit at the doctor’s office or the hospital, it’s easy to be frustrated with ideas of what else you could have done to prevent this sickness. You start to ask “Why now?” and begin to wonder why your prayers for protection weren’t answered.

It’s easy for me to focus on how quickly to get back to health with prayer and medicine. I fight feelings of frustration and decision fatigue because I have to reorganize our lives and schedules.

But I’m realizing there is a process to healing and there’s also an opportunity for those who are the caregivers to bless those who are sick and be blessed by them.

I remember being sick as a kid, but I also remember when others cared. I remember my grandparents dropping off a VCR to hook up to our TV with VHS tapes of Mary Poppins and Pollyanna when I had my tonsils taken out. I remember my mom being patient and caring more for me than for her own schedule when I had bronchitis. I remember my friends calling to check on me when I got mono and how cool I thought I was since the telephone was usually for adults. I was being blessed through times of sickness that were really hard.

Those who live to please the Spirit will harvest everlasting life from the Spirit. So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up. Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone — especially to those in the family of faith.
Galatians‬ ‭6:8-10‬ (NLT)

As I was straightening up my daughter’s bed covers to tuck her in, she looked at me with tired eyes. “Thank you for taking good care of me while I am sick. I love you, Mama.”

Her words made me realize that washing my hands raw, watching her favorite shows, making princess soup, cleaning every surface over and over, and reorganizing our lives is what love looks like. She and I both knew it, and she was feeling blessed even though she was still sick. She will remember being sick, but she will also recall the feelings of love.

So, I’m choosing not to complain. I’m watching the way God uses sickness to show us how He uses all things together for our good — even hard things — and I’m choosing not to become tired of doing good for her and myself. I know this cold and flu season and even living through a pandemic can be a blessing if I will let it.

How will you bless someone who is sick? Will you text or call them and tell them you’re praying for them? Will you offer to bring their favorite meal? Will you help those in your own home who need your love and patience? Don’t tire of doing good. You are reaping a harvest and pleasing the Holy Spirit with your active love.

 

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Empowered to Be More Than Conquerors

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What, then, are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He did not even spare his own Son but gave him up for us all. How will he not also with him grant us everything? Who can bring an accusation against God’s elect? God is the one who justifies. Who is the one who condemns? Christ Jesus is the one who died, but even more, has been raised; he also is at the right hand of God and intercedes for us. Who can separate us from the love of Christ? Can affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:

Because of you we are being put to death all day long;
we are counted as sheep to be slaughtered.

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:31-39 (CSB)

During my college years, I worked as a counselor at a Bible camp. Each summer I packed up all of my necessary belongings in one gigantic blue plastic tote, loaded the tote and myself into my old red Toyota, and headed north. The camp I worked at was in northern Minnesota, six miles down a dirt road and nestled among pine trees that gave way to an expansive lakeshore. It was a place where the Holy Spirit roamed as free as the campers, filling hearts and opening eyes and giving new life.

We spent our days playing games, studying the Bible, doing arts and crafts, swimming, singing, and laughing. We did so much laughing in that place! I felt closer to the Lord at camp than at any other time or place in my life, and I know I wasn’t the only one. There was room for the Lord to move and an expectancy that He would.

But even more meaningful than the memories of fun and laughter, of Scripture study and crafts, is the memory of how we began each day at camp.

Every single morning, each camper and staff member gathered around a flagpole. (There wasn’t actually a flag on the pole, but it served as a pretty nice gathering spot.) One staffer was appointed to lead each part of the morning opening, which began with a silly song to wake up our bodies. Next was a prayer in which we asked God to bless our day. And finally, a word of Scripture.

This was not simply a Bible reading. What happened was this: the appointed staffer would pray over and choose what we called a decree. A decree was something each of us is because of God, as found in Scripture. We had a full list of these decrees that kept growing throughout the summer, and each morning we would holler one out at the top of our lungs.

I am a child of God!
I am beloved!
I am forgiven!
I am chosen!
I am fearfully and wonderfully made!

Hundreds of kids exclaiming these truths first thing in the morning? It was a powerful and holy way to begin each day. And when it was my turn to lead, I would almost always choose my personal favorite: I am more than a conqueror through Christ!

You don’t have to be a camp counselor or a camper (or be anywhere near a camp) to cry out this truth. Whatever the challenge, whatever the battle, the Lord has promised that we can overcome. We are more than conquerors — equipped and ready to fight whether we feel up to the challenge or not. That’s right. Even if we don’t feel ready, God is for us. God loves us. And nothing can separate us from that love.

No matter what. Full stop.

Friend, walk confidently with your head held high into that battle that scares, accuses, or condemns. God has gone first, and nothing can come between you and His love. Because of His great love, you are more than a conqueror.

Lord, give me the confidence of an early-morning camper. Help me stand on the truth that I am already more than a conqueror, equipped for whatever fight I face. Thank You for Your love, bold and complete. Amen.

REFLECT:

  • Is it easy or hard for you to believe you are more than a conqueror? Why do you think that is?
  • How can you walk forward boldly with your head held high?
Empowered to Be More Than Conquerors was written by Anna E. Rendell, 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. Empowered: More of Him for All of You is unlike any other book we’ve ever written at (in)courage, and we are SO excited for it to be in your hands.

Join Mary, Grace and Anna each Thursday on the (in)courage podcast as they share more stories and conversations about being empowered through Christ! It’s our prayer that as you read this book, you’ll be empowered in every part of your being to live fully as God created you to be.

Sign up today and we’ll send you five FREE devotions from Empowered!

 

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When Life Is at Its Hardest, We Can All Bring Soup

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I believe deeply in the healing power of soup.

Whether you have a broken arm or a broken heart, homemade soup can start to bring you wholeness and healing in every step of its process — chopping ingredients, simmering them on the stove, tasting and adjusting the recipe, and then, finally, sharing the soup with someone you love.

Whether it’s because of the flu, deaths in our extended family, or work deadlines, my friend and neighbor Susy has shown up at my doorstep with soup more times than I can count. Susy’s love language is a pot of something hot and delicious: sometimes baked bean, sometimes chicken noodle. Always nutritious and healing.

But this time, it was my turn to show up.

As the crow flies, we live about five minutes from Susy, but to drive to her house it takes about forty minutes. Recently, our area has been through the ringer. Like us, Susy’s family went through the 100-year storm that happened up here in the Sierra mountains, dumping multiple feet of snow on our homes and causing a ten-day power outage.

We were lucky enough to be rescued by our firefighter neighbor, who had much better equipment than we did. After that, we dug snowboards out of our barn and sledded our five chickens to the truck to go stay with my mom.

Right after the storm, both our household and Susy’s came down with COVID. But Susy — not one to be outdone — was walking down the stairs one day, stumbled, and heard a pop. She had broken an ankle.

Today, even though it has been a hard couple of weeks with the storms and recovering from COVID, I am the person currently in possession of two intact ankles. So I will pull out my trusty red soup pot, start browning some ground turkey, gather the rest of my ingredients, and make a chili that will not only feed my family, but also Susy’s and our next-door neighbor Patrick, who is recovering from shoulder surgery. That’s the good thing about a soup — add some broth and it can stretch to feed more people.

I wish I could do more for Susy. If I could, I’d take some of her work pressures off or help her heal more quickly.

I wish we could do more for Patrick, who has helped us move appliances, dig our guests out of mud pits, and has mentored us as we’ve learned about mountain life.

I wish we could do more for our firefighter neighbor Paul, who dug us out of the snow and protected our house during a fire last summer.

But today, all I have is soup.

For years, I have been the person who has had grand intentions. I can come up with great ideas to help my hurting friend, like organizing a fundraiser or starting a meal train so they can be fed for weeks. I want to be that person who’ll do whatever they need, whenever they need it.

But more times than I’d like to remember, my grand plans turned into good intentions that never saw reality.

Sometimes, when life is at its hardest, we can’t manage a grandiose gesture. But most of the time, we can all bring soup.

Of course, your soup may look different than mine.

For some, like my husband, it’s fixing a computer for our friend who isn’t tech savvy.

Our neighbor Paul? His soup is showing up with a plow to rescue some stranded neighbors.

In James 2:15-17, we are not asked to take on all of another’s burden but to meet the needs we see in front of us. James asks us to make a humble offering:

If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.

We all have something we can give that will not necessarily fix someone else’s life situation but will still yield valuable results.

When we show up with our offering, we say, “I’m with you.” Meeting someone’s physical need touches on a spiritual need and shows our care for them in the here and now.

Also, generosity is contagious. Susy’s example has led to my own “mountain ministry.” I can’t get a fallen tree off your house or dig you out of the snow, but I can make you a hot meal.

When we present a humble offering, we give something practical and immediate. It doesn’t take a committee or a lot of planning. It’s just a simple gesture that goes a long way to bless someone and ease their struggle.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, An Abundant Place by Kathi Lipp and Cheri Gregory is a daily retreat for women who can’t get away. Get your copy today!

 

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When You Feel Overwhelmed, Let Love Light Your Way

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When I was a little girl, I dreamed of living somewhere quiet, beautiful, and spacious. But other than my walk to and from school along a concrete sidewalk, I didn’t spend much time outdoors. I think that’s why I loved watching the TV show Little House on the Prairie, imagining life in the woods as Laura Ingalls, skipping among the open fields, trees, and creeks.

I didn’t grow up like that. I grew up in an eight-hundred-square-foot duplex in the middle of a busy intersection in Silicon Valley. I didn’t grow up with a pa at home, and my ma was not was like Mrs. Ingalls.

I got used to being the good girl, the responsible one, who didn’t want to cause any trouble. But by always wanting to make sure everyone else was doing okay, it was easier for me to ignore my heart and put my needs to the side.

But when I was in fifth grade, I had an experience that God used to let me know my heart was not invisible to Him: I got to go on my first ever hike! It was the year our class went to science camp. I boarded a big, yellow school bus, lugging a sleeping bag borrowed from my aunt, with my pillow rolled in, like pigs in a blanket, and I headed for the big redwood trees in the mountains.

When I jumped off the bus, I felt what half-pint Laura Ingalls might have felt — happy, free. I looked up at the trees and felt small and safe. Even the air smelled different. I could breathe.

Our camp counselors said the big event was the night hike. We gathered at the trailhead after sunset, hyped with adrenaline. But everyone fell stone silent once we learned we’d be sent hiking alone from point A to point B — in the dark.

We were told to walk quietly, but if we got scared, all we needed to do was to call out. Camp counselors stationed at different points along the trail would help us.

That night was one of the most beautiful nights I have ever experienced. The light foliage felt like a soft carpet on the trail. I wasn’t afraid. The stars glimmered between the lattice rooftops of the redwoods.

The deeper I journeyed into the trail, something beautiful and unexpected happened: I began to see in the dark. I realized that when I knew someone was there to help me, I no longer felt overwhelmed or alone.

Looking back today, I’m reminded of what the psalmist whispered to God,

If I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there . . .
your right hand will hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
Psalm 139:11-13 (NIV)

That experience of walking in the dark on the hike helped me learn that when we’re not able to see what’s ahead of us and feel overwhelmed, God’s love can light the way for us.

God’s love is like a light in the darkness that helps us feel comforted, calmed, and no longer overwhelmed.

Nothing in life — no stress, confusion or overwhelming troubles — can keep God’s goodness from us. God can see us in the dark, and His voice is our light. His voice of love whispers to us, “Lean into me. Let me love you. Confide in me.” As we listen, our spiritual eyes adjust, and we begin to see the beauty of the journey we’re on.

In life, we will not always know the way, but the God who loves you not only knows the way but intimately knows your way.

Does the path in front of you look dark and scary? God’s love and His Word can light the way ahead. If you’re feeling overwhelmed with uncertainty or feeling stuck where you’re at, hear God’s whisper to you:

Beloved, I see you. I won’t leave or forsake you. Call out for me, and I’ll take your hand. I’ll turn the darkness into a place of rest, lit by my love for you.

One practical way to chase away the darkness is this soul care tip: intentionally write down God’s promises from Scripture. His Word is a lamp for our feet and a light on our path (Psalm 119:105). This month, instead of a gratitude list, I’ve decided to keep track of God’s love notes from Scripture. One of my favorites is James 4:8, “Come near to God and he will come near to you.” God’s promises give us a reason to light up, so when we’re feeling overwhelmed, we can mediate on His Word and let it guide us to where we need to go.

Thank you, Jesus, for walking with me, even in the dark. Give me eyes to see You now, so I can lean into You. Help me call out to You when I can’t see what’s ahead, and teach me to walk as Your beloved today. Amen.

For more soul care tips to stress less, follow Bonnie on Instagram @thebonniegray and listen to her powerful wellness podcast BREATHE: The Stress Less Podcast. And don’t forget to sign up for her Breathe newsletter!

The Prescription for Clear Vision

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I was eleven years old when I started wearing glasses.

After repeated trips to the school nurse’s office and complaints of nagging headaches, my mom took me on a trip to the optometrist. One hour later, he confirmed it: I needed to wear glasses. As it turned out, I had one nearsighted eye and one farsighted eye. Although I was able to see the classroom chalkboard and textbook well enough, only one eye could do each, causing strain and headaches.

I still remember that first pair of glasses: clear plastic frames with mauve edges — the envy of the other sixth graders, no doubt. It didn’t take long, however, for my new glasses to lose their luster. My peers didn’t think they were as cool as I did. And wearing them proved to be a nuisance. I didn’t like how they made my face sweat during recess or how they constantly seemed to slip off my nose.

So, eventually, I stopped wearing my glasses as often, putting them on only when absolutely necessary.

I did this for years, in fact. I always had a pair of prescription glasses on hand. But most of the time I could get by without wearing them except when driving or at a ballgame or the movie theatre. My prescription didn’t improve, but I could ignore my need for help.

Until about six years ago when my less-youthful self discovered — gasp! — that I could no longer read the mail. Or the pages of my book. Or the new text message that popped up on my phone. Almost overnight, I went from seeing to unseeing. No matter how much a squinted and struggled, I couldn’t get my vision to clear. And I didn’t like it.

So I took another trip to the optometrist where she confirmed it: I needed to wear glasses — much stronger glasses. In fact, over the next several years, I’d return to the optometrist another five times. And each time I left with a stronger prescription and yet another pair of glasses. There would be no bending the glass-wearing rules or ignoring reality. To function, I needed to see. And to see, I needed to wear my glasses. Period.

In the middle of Jesus’ famous Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said the following:

The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!
Matthew 6:22-23 (NIV)

I read these verses this week during my early morning study time — with my glasses on, of course. And although I’ve read them many times before, they struck me differently this time.

Sometimes you and I treat our faith — our belief in and trust in Jesus — as an optional pair of glasses. When life gets challenging, we reach for Him. We need Him to help us see our way through. When the crisis passes, we put Him to the side.

However, over time, our vision ends up slipping. And we realize, with painful certainty, that we’ve always needed Jesus. We were simply too self-sufficient to admit it.

This is what I’ve experienced over the last several years. As I’ve walked through a myriad of challenging circumstances — some that you’ve walked through too — I’ve noticed that my spiritual vision has grown blurry. Grief, loss, and even anger and resentment have skewed my ability to see clearly. As much as I don’t want to admit it, my own emotions and sense of injustice and unfairness have clouded my ability to see others with compassion, kindness, and grace. Instead, all I see are my own losses.

And then I go back to Matthew 6 and Jesus’ timely sermon. And I see the necessary prescription for my vision:

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also . . . But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Matthew 6:19-21, 33-34 (NIV)

“But seek first,” He said. He could’ve just as easily said, “But SEE first.” If you and I want to have healthy eyes, the prescription for our vision is clear:

Make Jesus and His kingdom your treasure.

He is the prescription for healthy vision. He is what we need to put on day after day and refuse to ignore to function without. His kingdom is the lens through which we must view everything and everyone else. Only Jesus can get us where we need to go, even if for right now we feel a little lost. He is the one who can be trusted for tomorrow, so we can keep our eyes focused on today.

The prescription is clear. But the question remains: Will you and I choose to wear our glasses? We’ve always needed Him. Let’s not wait until circumstances cloud our vision before we reach for Him.

What Do We Have Left When COVID Has Taken So Much from Us?

by

Listen to today’s article here.

We woke up feeling off. Perhaps it was the hangover of joy from the holidays or just not enough sleep. Maybe it was the chill in the air from last night’s storm. Maybe our heater was to blame for our groggy morning. It is fickle and kicks on as randomly as a distant relative stopping by. But our bodies felt the ache and hot tea couldn’t wash away our scratchy throats. We were undeniably sick — COVID-sick.

We are rapidly approaching two years of this pandemic. Two years of masks, two years of shutdown, two years of controversy, two years of science, two years of sickness that just doesn’t seem to find an end, two years of virtual learning and meeting, two years of making impossible choices, two years of canceling plans, two years of test results, two years of almost normal but not quite yet.

To be honest, I’m tired. I’m tired of conversations starting and ending with COVID. I’m tired of the arguments, articles, and endless mandates. Here I am now boiling water for Top Ramen and measuring out Tylenol for my boys. It is a fragile feeling when you are sick. It’s scary wondering and waiting for this virus to meander its way through our bodies.

In the rawness, I turn towards several different places with my pain. I turn to blame and shame, but surprisingly, my emotions turn towards anger. I am angry at our government. I am angry at leadership. I am angry at my neighbors. I am angry at random influencers online. I am angry at my family. I am angry at friends. I am angry at myself. I am angry that we are still stuck in this pandemic; it seems to rule our days and ruin our lives. Anger can feel as dangerous and as hot as the water bubbling up like a volcano on my stove right now.

I want it to be over, but it’s not. It’s still here. I want things to be different, but they’re still the same. I want to shut the door and move on, but reality is demanding another way.

I am done with COVID, but COVID isn’t done with me. Even if it were, the effects of it will be long-lasting. 

The truth is we have all been through an enormous trauma. It’s not time to look away; it’s time to start healing. We’ve all walked, crawled, and hurled our way through the last two years. We want to be done, but God is still doing something here. Whether we like it or not, we must continue to feel the pain we’ve already persevered through. We need help for our bodies and help for our souls. One without the other is a cocktail for disconnection and depression. We must let God do more work in our hearts.

Remember the story of Jesus and the disciples in the storm (Matthew 8:23-27)? The disciples were frantic and anxious as the waves rose high above their heads. They woke Jesus up and begged Him to do something. Jesus was undeterred by the weather but deterred by the disciples’ outrageous response to the storm. He calmly settled the waters and rose in frustration at His disciples’ lack of faith.

Two years feels like an eternity when I am looking through the lens of this mortal life. When my gaze is fixed on the storm, I only see chaos. When my anxiety is tied to a news cycle, I only feel fear. When my hope is lassoed to a holiday party and it’s canceled, I am only left with despair. When my security is connected to a shot and I get sick, what comes next?

Faith, sisters, faith. Faith not in peace, faith not in tomorrow, faith not in what can be measured or monetized, faith not in health, and faith not in my own understanding. We need faith in Jesus and in Jesus alone.

We may feel done with all the suffering, inconveniences, and weariness of this pandemic, but Jesus is never done with us. He wants to heal our pain, trauma, and PTSD. Jesus calls us to rise up and have faith. When we are tempted to only look at the monsters around us, let us instead draw our attention to the healing medicine found in Christ.

Our family will heal from COVID this week. We will return to work, school, and church. The real question is, how will we return and move forward? Will we let the suffering of this world drown us or will we walk forward in faith? There will be many unknowns in the future. I can get tired of being sick and quarantined, but I can’t let it keep me from following after Jesus in faith. I will keep my eyes fixed on the only hope in my world and for the world. As the waters rise and fall with my anger and fear, faith in Christ is the only thing that keeps me afloat.