The Goodness of Our Creative Callings

The Goodness of Our Creative Callings

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I sat on my back patio, journal and pen in hand, with no words to write. As the wind whispered through my hair, I grasped for inspiration, wishing an image, a thought, a phrase would arise. But nothing came. I stared out into nature, extending out my backyard, and felt stuck. I wanted so badly to write beauty on pages, and yet all I felt was empty and dry.

Everything I had been writing of late was for a project. Each idea was turned into an article with a timestamp. Over time, I realized this sort of production approach to one of my natural talents had sucked the creativity right out of me. Somewhere in the shuffle of deadlines and the pursuit of a side income, I had lost the experience of writing for the pure joy of it. There had been a time when I could get lost in another world of thoughts, when I could write something down and not share it with the world. I would write things in my journal just for myself, and like Eric Liddell in Chariots of Fire, I’d feel God’s pleasure through my craft. Oftentimes, my days would feel brighter and more invigorated as a result. I want to get back to that.

In bearing God’s image, humans share God’s creative impulse. When God made the world, He put His creativity on display, breathing to life a colorful diversity in all things. Every rare and unique plant, creature, and human is a testament to God, our Creator and King, who delights in us simply for who we are and the ways we reflect His image in the world. Moreover, after each day of creation in Genesis 1, we read that God surveyed all that He created and declared, “It is good.” God created for the purpose of beauty, goodness, and truth, and we can too. In our skills and abilities and talents, God has planted the seeds for us to co-create good and beautiful things as a form of worship to God and for His glory. 

In fact, part of how we love our neighbor is through our creative calling. I love how the theologian Frederick Buechner writes, “Your vocation in life is where your greatest joy meets the world’s greatest need.” In other words, breathing life into our creations shouldn’t be a selfish pursuit. Rather, cultivating them is how God uses us as His hands and feet in a dark and hurting world. Through our giftings and skills, we not only imagine a better and more beautiful world, a vision of the Garden temple in Genesis that God created, but we also use our knowledge and abilities to bring that vision to reality. Through our crafted creations, whether they be in word, object, or aesthetic, we have the ability to further God’s goodness in the world. This is how we create for both our own joy and the joy of the world.

However, in our fast-paced world, it’s hard to create the good and the beautiful if everything we do is contracted and commodified. When everything we create has metrics attached, when there is something to be gained through it — whether fame, platform, or income — we miss out on our original purpose as co-creators with God Himself. That’s not to say we shouldn’t use our skills to put food on the table and have a roof over our head, but when the art of creating is reduced to mere financial transactions, our creative spark will slowly fizzle and wane. 

In this new year, what if we chose to carve out more space to lean into our God-given gifts and talents and passions? What if we chose to delight in the process of creating in every paint stroke, music note, planted seed, and well-crafted sentence? Can we chase after divine beauty in the meals we prepare for our families and friends, in the ideas we share, and the relationships we build? 

This year let’s return back to our first creative loves. Let’s unwrap that long hidden gem and allow our sleeping hearts to beat again with excitement and thrill. May we awaken to curiosity and delight, wonder and imagination, and join God in the cultivation of goodness, beauty, and truth. 

New Year’s Resolutions or Not, His Mercies Are New

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We all know what the main topic of conversation is this time of year. How many times have you heard it? The calendar flips over to a new year and that seems to mean there needs to be a start to the “new you.” Everyone has been thinking, planning, and waiting until January to be better, start fresh, and try harder.

Typically, you have people finding they need to cut things out — bad habits, television, junk food, social media. Some people want to add things in — more reading, more working out, more family time, more gratitude. People want to look better, feel better, and be more successful.

Social media posts and friends and family are all asking the same questions: What are your resolutions for this year? What are you going to change? What are you going to make better? What are you going to stop doing? What are you going to work harder on?

So I have found myself thinking — or maybe overthinking — about my own plans, goals, resolutions for the new year. Should I be adding in good things? Should I be cutting out bad things? I need more of the good and could always use less of the bad. I see plenty of room for improvement and my track record for resolutions is less than consistent. The list for a new me just gets longer and longer. I see the self-induced stress and disappointment adding up already. Who can keep all of this up? It’s overwhelming! No wonder people aren’t talking about how resolutions are going a month or two into the year.

Do you ever just want to avoid this topic of conversation? All this added pressure just because the calendar shows January? When you hear questions about new year’s resolutions for the hundredth time, do you feel like answering, “I don’t have any!”? Nothing, none, zilch, zero. No resolution, no new big thing, no new me.

No more pressure is needed right now.

Resolutions and goals have their rightful place, but right now, you might just need to get through this season, to get through the week, to hang on another day. You are working hard trying to get through each day all the while being the best God made you to be.

If that is the season you are in, you are not alone. If you feel like this whole resolution thing is just a big fail for you, you are not alone. Not everyone is feeling the big, lofty goals. Not everyone is into the splashy “in” resolutions of the year. Do not feel guilty for not jumping on board with all the excitement this time around. And if this is where you’re at today, I have the best news for you: Don’t worry. Have hope. You and I can take this day by day!

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in Him.”
Lamentations 3:21-24 (ESV)

This is what the Lord does for us — new mercies every morning!

Each and every day, we can have the abundant mercy, love, and faithfulness of God. His mercies will never come to an end. They will not run out. They do not expire. And thankfully, they aren’t based on how good we are doing. After each misstep, flub, mistake and fail, there He is with mercy and love and grace. We don’t have to quit; we can try again tomorrow. And again the next day. And again the day after that if we need.

We can count on His mercy to get us through the day’s troubles. And if we barely make it through a day, if it leaves us discouraged and broken, we have hope that He will meet us tomorrow with an outpouring of love, compassion, and faithfulness.

God just keeps showing up. He forgives us over and over, loving us no matter our behavior, with never-ending mercies.

God is our portion. He is our fresh start. He is the hope we cling to.

Resting in Truth as a New Year Begins

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Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.
The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:17 (ESV)

Even though we wish we could see all that is to come this year, let’s open our hands and trust God with the unknown and the new. His goodness, love, and faithfulness continue to be true for us.

May you feel peace knowing that you are a new creation in Christ, that He will renew your heart and offer new mercies every day. May you resist the pressure and temptation to fill up a blank calendar with lofty resolutions and appointments that will stretch you thin. May you remember that you are more than any goal met, any resolution kept, any to-do list checked. You are loved just as you are, and may you find rest in that truth.

A prayer for 2022:

Lord, there is so much ahead of us that we can’t foresee, so much we wish we could control but can’t. We hold all the questions, desires, and longings out to You. We want to trust You, but we acknowledge that we need help with that sometimes. Help us remember who we are, through the lens and truth of who You are. Thank You that we can be anchored in faith when we are tethered to You. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen. 

Happy New Year, friends!

Tomorrow Is Full of New Mercies

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Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:21-23 (NIV)

You made it. Because of God’s great love, you were not consumed. Today is the last day of the year, and tomorrow brings with it a new year, a fresh start, and God’s faithfulness to see us through it all.

No matter what you’ve faced this year, tomorrow is full of new mercies. Because of God’s grace and forgiveness, we are offered a new heart and a new spirit (Ezekiel 36:26-27). When we accept the gift of a new year and a new life in Christ, God promises to give us a heart that is once again soft and a spirit that is open to His guiding.

As we close out this year, reflecting on all that has happened in the past 365 days, all the ways we’ve grown and struggled and loved and learned, let’s remember that a new day is coming. God will give us a new heart — as well as a new year.

Happy last day of 2021, friends. May your heart feel renewed, refreshed, and ready to welcome 2022.

I Want to See Jesus in the Church Like I Saw Him at the Hospital

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I have often heard that a church should look more like a hospital, and that’s the out-of-left-field thought I had at a most unusual moment. It popped into my mind when a nurse inserted the IV needle into my wrist.

I was in the hospital for surgery on my, ahem, pre-menopausal lady parts. (Everything is fine. I am recovered. I am at peace.) But moments before the IV was inserted, I was not at peace. I was in panic.

I had a full-on meltdown that would rival a three-year-old’s flopped-down fit in a Target aisle. Forty-nine-year-old me. In a hospital gown. With my long-suffering husband whispering gentle reassurance to me. Perhaps surprisingly, it wasn’t the procedure, biopsies, or anesthesia that sent me into a tailspin.

I was terrified of the needle. (Turns out, there’s a name for this very real fear: trypanophobia.)

Then something happened. The nurse — her name was Teresa — looked me in the eyes and said simply and calmly, “Have faith.”

Her words weren’t delivered in a way that would make you feel like you’d been preached at, or scolded, or that your fears were being marginalized. It was reassurance that was paradoxically gentle and firm. I knew in that moment that faith was possible.

I breathed deeply, and it became clear to me that the hospital was doing for me what the big-c Church is called to do for all people: to be like Jesus — the same Jesus, who, like Teresa, reminded His followers to have faith.

That day, I saw Jesus in the hospital from the moment I stepped inside.

I saw Jesus in the man who held the elevator open.

I saw Jesus in the receptionist who showed me to my room and asked about our holiday plans.

I saw Jesus in the patience of my husband, who held my trembling hand.

I saw Jesus in the nurse who pressed a lavender essential-oil patch onto my gown to calm me.

I saw Jesus in the anesthesiologist who explained how things would go in the operating room.

And, of course, I saw Jesus in Teresa.

All of this happened beneath a wooden cross nailed to the wall in front of me. Yes, a cross in a hospital. Perhaps you’re aware that the church played a major role in developing what we know today as the hospital. The same is true of the specific hospital where I was cared for, Avera, founded by orders of religious women. There is much to be said of the rich faith traditions undergirding our modern hospital system. It makes sense, given that the early church championed care of the sick.

And, of course, healing was a tenet of Christ’s ministry on earth. He was not only a spiritual healer but a physical one too. Like me, a woman who had been experiencing her own lady-part problems went in search of healing. She knew that if she could simply touch His cloak, she would be healed.

Jesus turned to her with words of compassion. “Take heart, daughter. Your faith has healed you” (Matthew 9:21-22).

As I think about the year ahead, the kind of Church I need — the kind of Church I want to be — is the kind where I am reminded that Jesus holds my suffering in nail-scarred hands.

I want to see Jesus in the rooms of 2022, and I want to be Jesus in the room. I want to bring whatever I can to a hurting world — whether that’s through the opening of a door, asking a kind question, offering a bit of lavender or a hand to hold. I want to bring my presence to those who are hurting.

Candidly, I also need the Church in this way. I too am sometimes saddled with pain and panic. I want to be able to show up in the new year as I am – broken, hurting, panicked, anxious – and find safe places to share my wounds without having them maligned or minimized. I need kind Teresas nearby to gently remind me to “have faith,” who will stay close even when I’m a bawling mess.

And may it all play out under the cross.

Yes, I need a church that’s like a hospital. It’s said that the word hospital originates from the Latin word hospes, meaning guest or stranger. It’s the same root for the word hospitality. The word patient comes from patior, which means to suffer. That means that, by definition, a hospital is a kind place where guests who are suffering can show up and be cared for.

May the Church — and all of us in it — become more and more a place like that.

Dear Lord, I pray for the woman who suffers today. I pray for the woman whose pain has been maligned, misunderstood, or minimized. May You give her safe passage toward people who believe her and guide her in faith. May You give her the courage to reach out and touch Your garment. And Father, we also pray for the Church in 2022. May it be a place that’s more like a hospital, where suffering guests can show up and be cared for. In Jesus’ healing name, Amen.

Bed Bugs, Hip Problems, and How God Shows Up in Surprising Ways

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We arrived in New York for our daughter’s much anticipated twelve-year-old trip with mom and dad, exhausted and ready for a good night’s sleep in a gorgeous hotel. We had big plans to explore the city, but the first thing our daughter wanted to do in the morning was to swim in the rooftop pool. We sauntered up with swimsuits and towels on right after breakfast.

Upon finding lounge chairs, my husband’s phone rang. and his eyes got big.

“This is the manager. I’m so sorry to say this, but we believe your room has bed bugs. We are going to ask you to come to a new, upgraded room immediately. Take only what you have on, and you will follow us to a new room. All your clothes and bags from your old room will go through a special cleaning process, then sent back to your room tomorrow. We are so sorry for the inconvenience!” 

My husband must have noticed my face. All my expectations came crashing down. We had waited so long for this trip, and now it was ruined. I teared up. We have no shoes, no clothes; we can’t go out in the chilly night air like this! And gross — bed bugs?! How did this happen! 

“We are sending the concierge out to shop for new clothes for tomorrow and tennis shoes. And pajamas. And anything else you need.” So we sat around in our half wet suits and waited. I tried to have a good attitude, but it didn’t work. I was just so disappointed. Finally, the clothes arrived, and we were able to go out to dinner. I prayed a pitiful prayer that God would somehow redeem this trip. 

But the following day, I woke up, and one of my eyes was matted shut. You’ve got to be kidding me. This is a comedy of errors! It was swollen and itchy, and I had to call an eye doctor to get a prescription in a city I didn’t know. But we had new outfits and shoes and decided to take to the streets. Nothing is going to stop us from having the trip of our lives — not even my jellyfish-looking eyeball! So we did all the fun things one does in New York City, clocking in 20,000 steps! 

Throughout the day, I kept asking my husband if his hips were hurting because he usually complains or walks with a limp with that much walking. “I can’t believe this, but I feel fine! I think it’s these shoes. I would have never bought them, but they’re actually incredible. My hip isn’t hurting at all.”

We both gasped and smiled. For years we’ve known he’s been inching towards surgery but have been putting it off. We’ve tried everything and never thought to switch his shoes. He hasn’t taken those tennis shoes off since, and his hip pain has dramatically decreased!

Our disastrous-but-redeemed trip reminds me of this year — these past couple of years — when expectations of how everything should have gone came crumbling down. Even though we’re past Christmas, I can’t help but think about Mary and how jarring it must have felt when the angel appeared to her suddenly.

And he came to her and said, “Greetings, O favored one, the Lord is with you!” But she was greatly troubled at the saying, and tried to discern what sort of greeting this might be.
Luke 1:28-29 (ESV)

I can just hear Mary saying, “Um, what kind of greeting is this?!” But God has a different way, a strange way, of showing up. He offers His provisions and care in such a surprising manner, we could easily miss the blessing it might contain. 

We look back now on that trip and see God’s surprising provision. He met needs we weren’t even looking to have met. We had big plans, but He had an even bigger plan to heal my husband’s hip — with an incident of bed bugs. (Yes, it’s funny!)

As we enter into this season of reflection and look forward to the future, we can probably conjure up all the ways we want our lives to go differently. But our vision might be clouded, perhaps matted shut with unmet expectations and bitterness. We might not be able to see the ways God has actually been providing for us all along. But this is what I’ve found to the be antidote to see clearly again: We must believe in His goodness towards us. When we look back and find the ways He’s been faithful to us, it helps us look forward to the future feeling less fearful and more hopeful.

I wonder how He will show up for us this next year as we look around and say, Where is God in this surprising turn in my life? Ah, our Emmanuel. God is with us — in the past, right now, and in the future. And His presence is our promise and our hope.

Remembering God’s Faithfulness This Year

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I will make known the Lord’s faithful love
and the Lord’s praiseworthy acts,
because of all the Lord has done for us—
even the many good things
he has done for the house of Israel,
which he did for them based on his compassion
and the abundance of his faithful love.
He said, “They are indeed my people,
children who will not be disloyal,”
and he became their Savior.
In all their suffering, he suffered,
and the angel of his presence saved them.
He redeemed them
because of his love and compassion;
he lifted them up and carried them
all the days of the past.
Isaiah 63:7-9 (CSB)

We are nearly at the end of this year, friends — can you believe it? As we settle our hearts after the celebrations and chaos of the holidays, let’s pause and remember God’s faithfulness to us this year. We would love to hear from you:

What prayers have been answered? 

At what moments did you see or hear God clearly? 

Who in your life has shown you more of God?

When things were hard, how did you feel God’s nearness?

God loves us more than we can imagine. We are His people, His children. God is and has been steady, unshaken, present, and compassionate in the midst of all that this year has brought. Breathe in God’s grace for you. It is enough.

It’s Never Too Late to Find Joy

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I had always wanted to go to the desert and see the wildflowers bloom. I read in an article that once a year wildflowers bloom in the desert. I planned to take our family down to Palm Springs from the San Francisco Bay area for the first time, but when I called to book a jeep tour, the company told me that no one knows exactly when flowers bloom in the desert. “We only know they bloom some time between March and May,” they said.

I learned that depending on the conditions of the land, rainfall, and weather, the timing varies every year. Still, I booked the trip, praying that God would allow us to see the wildflowers.

As my family and I zoomed out into the desert later in the spring, there was nothing but dirt, rocks, plentiful Joshua trees, and shrubs dotting the landscape as our jeep drove across the desert plains. I felt pretty disappointed.

“I thought we were going to see wildflowers?” my boys asked.

“Yeah, I guess not,” I shouted above the squeaky jeep ride.

However, thirty minutes later, and to my surprise, our guide stopped by the roadside and walked us over to some plants. “Wildflowers bloom here because they tell us something important is up ahead,” he said with a sparkle in his eyes underneath his sun hat.

He pointed up ahead to a cluster of palm trees in the distance. An oasis was up ahead. Streams in the desert were running underneath the ground we stood on, and the wildflowers plants were drawing water from deep within the desert.

I didn’t know flowers could blossom like that in the desert because nothing along the way told me that something beautiful would emerge from dry wilderness. Yet underneath the barren desert floor where I could not see, life-giving water was flowing.

Are you standing in a wilderness of your own and joy looks out of reach, as you end the year? Do you feel stressed, surrounded by the questions and problems surrounding you? Are you losing hope that beauty will show up along the way?

No matter how dry or barren your life feels now, it’s never too late to choose joy. God’s love and peace is an oasis we can run to, return to, and get refilled by no matter how things appear.

As I stood there in the middle of the oasis of palm trees, marveling at the pool of water flowing out of the ground, I felt an overwhelming peace. My heart was refreshed with joy as I began recalling Scriptures that flowed out life-giving truth:

Nothing is impossible with God.
Luke 1:37 (ESV)

Do not be afraid, for I am with you. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up.
Isaiah 41:10 (NIV)

The wilderness and the dry land will be glad; the desert will rejoice and blossom like a rose. It will blossom abundantly and will also rejoice with joy and singing.
Isaiah 35:1-2 (HCSB)

God’s Word empowers us and gives us hope. No matter what wilderness or desert of stress we may find ourselves in, we can always return to the oasis of God’s presence and choose joy again.

What are the stresses you’re experiencing? Tell God about it. Come vulnerably and honestly before Him and share your struggles, perhaps your lack of hope, and your tender hope to believe that joy might be possible again.

Friends, as we step into the new year in a couple of days, don’t give up looking for joy. Encourage yourself to believe God has prepared a place for you to blossom with joy in this world. Take your time. There is no rush or expiration date to finding joy. There is room for you to grow and learn what helps you to experience joy in a personal way. Take just one next step to bloom right where you are planted.

Whatever that might look like for you, seek it out in faith, knowing that when we seek it, we will find it. An oasis of joy waiting for you up ahead. It’s never too late to choose joy because you are God’s beloved daughter.

For more ways to find joy, follow Bonnie on Instagram @thebonniegray, sign up for her Breathe Newsletter (click here), and listen to this wellness podcast BREATHE: The Stress Less Podcast.

What a Wonder 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.
You go before me and follow me.
You place your hand of blessing on my head.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too great for me to understand!
Psalm 139:1-6 (NLT)

As we enter into the last week of 2021, let’s take a collective deep breath. We’re ending a year that had many of us adjusting to constantly changing circumstances, starting new dreams and jobs, saying goodbye to loved ones too soon, or tentatively hoping for life to settle down. We might be holding our breath as we face 2022, wondering what it will bring, so for a moment today — right now — let’s rest in the truth we find in Psalm 139.

First, God knows us — our hearts, minds, and bodies. He knows the stress we hold from caring for those around us. He knows our frustration — about the pandemic, within our marriages, with our church communities. He knows what will delight us and when we need our rest. He goes before us so we’re never alone or lost, and He holds all our thoughts, feelings, needs, fears, and desires with care.

Second, God holds the future in His hands. When everything feels out of control, God can anchor us to Himself. His presence is our comfort, our assurance, and our blessing no matter what circumstances we will find ourselves in.

Take in these truths as you breathe deeply. You are known by a God who cares for you through every moment of every day, every month, and every year.

Wishing You a Very Merry Christmas!

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The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. We observed his glory, the glory as the one and only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John 1:14 (CSB)

Joy to the world, Christ has come. He is here. He is with us! May your day be filled with more joy and love than your heart can hold as you celebrate the greatest Gift — the never-ending, world-changing, amazing love and joy of Jesus Christ.

As you celebrate loud or quiet, near or far, today or next week, know that you, dear friend, are loved by all of us here at (in)courage.

May you see His glory today and every day. Merry Christmas!

On Christmas Eve, We Anticipate with Hope

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

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
    and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.
Luke 2:1-20 (NIV)

On this holy night as we anticipate Christmas in the morning, may you let these ancient words sink deep into your soul. This is the story of new beginnings, of hope in the middle of winter, of joy in the midst of chaos. It’s a story that meets us where we’re at and invites us into a miracle.

So no matter where your heart is today, pause, reflect, and rest in the story of the shepherds and the straw, of new decrees and new parents, of heavenly hosts and a baby King. May the twinkling glory of Christmas Eve breathe peace and life into your heart today.

The Friend We’ve Always Wanted and Have Been Waiting For

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I was six years old when I had my first best friend. Tonya was only one year older than I was, and she lived directly across the street, a convenient setup for a budding childhood friendship.

But right before I turned seven years old, my family moved to another state halfway across the United States. The day the movers arrived, my parents found me hiding in the living room drapes, crying at the prospect of leaving everything familiar behind, including my best friend Tonya. I was utterly inconsolable, certain this move was the end of life itself.

Of course, life would continue, even without Tonya. And within months of being in my new state, my new church, my new school, and my new neighborhood, I found another best friend. And this one proved even sweeter than the first. For the rest of my childhood, we shared birthdays and holidays, and summer break was often spent at each other’s house. Her parents became my second parents, and vice versa. And when we married, we both shared the big day with the other.

Even now, more than forty years later, our friendship continues. Though we no longer live in the same geographical area, our hearts are intertwined and always will be. We’ve raised children and buried parents; bought, sold, and remodeled houses; and tackled various health challenges and ministry challenges. And though we don’t often have time together, in person or over the phone, we both would drop everything and jump on a plane or train if the other needed us. There is no question. And no matter how much time passes in between visits, when we find ourselves face-to-face, it takes no time at all to share the intimate details of our lives with each other.

We’re friends, through and through, and we have very few secrets between us.

When King David faced difficulties in his life — everything from a fractured family to political upheaval — he too needed the solace of a best friend. And, as cheesy as it may sound, David found solace in his friendship with God. When everything felt precarious, when he sinned and failed, and he had no clue what he should do, he turned to the Father of his soul and poured out his heart.

Show me your ways, Lord,
    teach me your paths.
Guide me in your truth and teach me,
    for you are God my Savior,
    and my hope is in you all day long.
Psalm 25:4-5 (NIV)

“My hope is in you all day long,” he claimed. Over and over again, in the stories of David captured on the pages of the Old Testament, we see evidence of that fact. Even when David sinned and tried to hide from the Almighty, he eventually turned to his best friend and laid his heart bare.

What I find compelling, however, is not David’s transparency but God’s.

The Lord confides in those who fear him;
he makes his covenant known to them.
My eyes are ever on the Lord,
for only he will release my feet from the snare.
Psalm 25:14-15 (NIV)

In verse 14, David recalls how the intimacy he shared with the Almighty wasn’t one-sided. Instead, the Lord confided in him, as well, reassuring David of His covenantal promise of relationship. David found solace, not only in his communication with God but in how God simultaneously revealed His heart to him. It was a two-way relationship — friend to friend, face to face. Moses had a similar experience with God, as recorded in Exodus 33:11: “The Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend.”

Do you realize what this means for you and me? Don’t rush past this until the truth has fully infiltrated your heart with its implications: God Himself wants to confide in you. The word confide means to share secrets with. That means the One who made you, the One who holds all things in His hands, wants to show Himself to you and share His heart with you. He will not withhold Himself from you but rather longs to draw you into communion with Him. Jesus made the same claim:

I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.
John 15:15 (NIV)

Life gets lonely sometimes, friends. There are days when, in spite of the various humans surrounding us, we still feel all alone. But we mustn’t forget: There is One who is already ready to share His secrets with us, One who knows us better than all the others and loves us anyway, One who promises to never leave us and always stay close.

The friend we’ve always wanted and have been waiting for — a best friend. And His name is Jesus.

Stop Playing the Comparison Game This Christmas

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You don’t have to experience many Christmases before the comparison game begins. Children remember their biggest presents, their Elf on the Shelf’s most challenging hiding places, the time when your home was the most elaborately decorated (interior and exterior) and how early in the season the decorating began. They remember the year your dog wore a Santa costume throughout December and that time when you perfected a peppermint hot chocolate recipe and served it every night.

The combination of such memories, embellished by time and imagination, contributes to the magic of the season.

But while children’s memories are relatively short-term, ours span a longer period. We not only remember traditions carried down from year to year but also from generation to generation. I remember the homemade chocolate covered cherries and steaming pots of hot cocoa my grandmother served on Christmas Eve and how my mother hand-spun elaborate bows out of rolls of ribbon to top our perfectly wrapped presents. I remember pulling taffy with my great-aunts while my parents attended grown-up holiday parties and the series of stops on our annual Christmas tour as we visited family, both local and out-of-state. I remember cutting, sewing, and stuffing fabric ornaments to hang on our tree.

I also remember the times as an adult when I did Christmas better — when I mailed Christmas cards (on time) with family photos; when I baked batches of hot, homemade cinnamon rolls and our children delivered them to the neighbors; when I led month-long Christmas-themed devotionals around our kitchen table at night; when I crafted thoughtful, individual gifts by hand.

No matter our age, we all enter the Christmas season with expectations influenced by past Christmases. And as women, we are often the ones expected to make the magic happen. Some years, the time and resources just aren’t there, but other years (and this one leaves us feeling so guilty), it’s our desire and motivation that have gone missing.

We can blame it on current events — no matter how much we want to shake off the pandemic, the world around us has changed — but for some of us the pandemic is merely an excuse, an easy scapegoat for feelings of inadequacy and the fear of not meeting the expectations of those around us. As if Christmas was about us anyway.

If comparison is the thief of joy, and Christmas celebrates the birth of the ultimate giver of joy, Jesus Christ Himself, then comparison has no place in how we observe this meaningful season. Whenever I apologize for a “less than” Christmas (yes, I’ve actually done this more than once), our children reassure me that it’s just right.

My apologies are misguided, putting the focus on my follies and failings instead of the incomprehensible fact that Jesus Christ descended from the perfection and glory of heaven into a fallen world for our sakes. He left a place where He was worshiped for one where He was ridiculed and rejected. He traded paradise for pain and suffering.

And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.
John 1:14 (KJV)

This year I want to ease off the gas and savor the season at a slower speed, contemplating what the Father and Son sacrificed when Jesus came to dwell among us and spending time with the people who dwell with me each day.

The day after Thanksgiving, when the crumbs were swept away, I cleared a spot at the end of our dining room table and pulled out a puzzle. I wanted to create a spot where we could set aside devices, share stories, and sit together, possibly assembling a 1000-piece puzzle in the process. We’ve curled up on the couch to watch new Christmas movies at home and ventured out, blankets in hand, to a small local theater to see Frozen on the big screen again. We’ve whipped up batches of hot chocolate and steamed apple cider and built fires in the fireplace on cold evenings. Our best-loved Christmas albums are on heavy rotation, speakers synced so the music will follow us from room to room.

Memories are waiting to be made in such simple moments.

Our decorations aren’t Pinterest-worthy. We wrap our gifts, but we gave up on bows a long time ago. We haven’t mailed Christmas cards in years. But my family is enjoying the season together, and laughter rings throughout our home.

Trying to compete with Christmases before — those times when we cooked, decorated, gifted, or celebrated a little better — can steal the beauty and joy of this magical time of year. We’ll never do Christmas wrong when we focus on the real reason for the season — the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ — and spending time with those we love.

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6 (KJV)

Finding Joy Is an Act of Defiance in This World

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I drove to my parent’s home as dusk became night, glancing around at the empty streets. Every street was hauntingly empty, except for me — a daughter driving to see her dying mother. Earlier that day, the governor of California imposed a lockdown due to the COVID pandemic. Residents were to stay home, except for vital activities like grocery shopping or life-and-death scenarios.

I felt sick when I realized I fell in the latter category; my mother was dying. That first week of the lockdown felt surreal. While my own world spun out of control, the rest of the world was seemingly playing along. Normal was a thing of the past for all of us. Mom worsened as hospice nurses came and went, along with new worries: What were they bringing with them? Had they been exposed to this new virus? Grief of my mother’s rapidly approaching death now swirled with confusion about the changing world we lived in.

Nothing was the same.

We held a small graveside service for Mom that felt lackluster. I wore an N-95 mask as I read the eulogy I wrote for her, grateful for a shield to partially hide my quivering chin and breaking voice.

And then it was done. It was time to go back to every day life, but one that was neither normal nor recognizable. I was facing a new life, but not the one I envisioned I would live after my mother passed. I once imagined vacations we would take my bereaved father on to prove that life could still be joyful — maybe my boys would finally go to Disneyland with their grandfather and giggle together on careening coasters. Perhaps we would take a cross-country road trip or finally go back to Hawaii, like we’d promised each other on our honeymoon. It felt naïve now to think of those plans.

Instead, I was left with a quieted life, now soaked with grief — for all the things. Losing my mother felt immensely surreal. She was here, and then she was not. How could that be? It was only in the days afterwards I realized I had unknowingly depended on the rest of my life to hold the line of normalcy. I thought when I emerged from the deep waters of grief long enough to take a breath, I would recognize my surroundings. It was odd the comfort I felt from a world turned upside down.

The world looked different and felt sad, as if in unison all of God’s people were asking, Why? What now? This part of the new world I was living in without my mother felt familiar since I had been asking those same questions since her cancer diagnosis.

Once my grief turned internal — and by that, I mean I no longer cried every other day — the question I began asking was, How? How can I find joy now, in a place that feels unfamiliar and complex, where my grief has specificity and vagueness that leave me with a hazy heaviness? During Jesus’ time on earth, He had the ability to focus on the big picture and the immediate need simultaneously. He spoke to crowds of thousands who yearned to hear the truth, and then healed the sick, one by one. Conditions were oppressive, and yet to those He touched, freedom was given.

Finding joy is an act of defiance in this world we now inhabit.

There is so much to grieve, personal and global, and yet His peace persists. His joy still thrives within. The world cannot steal the gift of Himself He has given. We can rejoice, but what does joy look like when every headline rushes to snuff it out?

Well, sometimes, it looks like planting roses.

I walked through the rows of rose bushes in the Lowe’s garden department. It was Mom’s birthday, and I did not want to visit her grave. My soul wanted to revolt. I would celebrate life and beauty instead. My fingers traced the velvet petals of a few potted roses as I inhaled their scent and considered which would bring me the most joy, which would remind me of the beauty in this world that still persists.

I bought some and planted them in my backyard, knowing the hot California sun would test their resilience. For the first weeks, it looked as though I had brought them home only to watch their slow withering deaths. How ironic, I thought. And then, a single bud appeared, followed by three, then six, then twelve. It was as if my mother had sent me a dozen roses.

Joy is resilient even when pain is relentless.

Maybe, for you, the grief you feel is more complex than a headline. Maybe it’s personal, as close as the heaviness that sits on your chest. Maybe it’s both. For many of us, it’s both. It’s knotted and gnarled and tangled so tightly it’s difficult to tease out exactly what feels so hard.

You don’t need untangle it for Jesus. He knows. He sees the big picture and the small, and He promises that for every unrelenting sorrow, one day there will be unimaginable joy.

Mama’s Got a Lot to Learn

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Everyone is sitting on cozy couches watching Hallmark movies. They feature leading ladies who return to their hometowns only to fall in love and find that their lives are finally falling into place. I know I should be snuggled up watching holiday movies too, baking gingerbread cookies, and singing all the Christmas songs. But instead, I am listening to “My Little Love” by Adele on repeat — and I cannot stop from playing the song over and over again, the lyrics looping in my kitchen, in my office, in my car:

I’m holding on (barely)
Mama’s got a lot to learn (it’s heavy)
I’m holding on (catch me)
Mama’s got a lot to learn (teach me)

The words of this song come to me when I wake. I hum them while I brush my teeth, I sing them in the shower and in grocery stores. I look up the lyrics and memorize them because even though Adele doesn’t know me, I’m sure the song is about me. I’m the one that’s barely holding on. I’m the one that, thirty years into living, still has so much to learn.

I am the mama hoping that the hurt in her heart doesn’t catch on to her kids. I am the mama hoping that her lostness doesn’t disappoint the light in her kids’ eyes when they discover that she doesn’t have it all together. That no matter how intelligent and brave and fun she seems, she’s really just a woman tearing at the seams.

And this isn’t just a sentiment for the mamas — this is the ache in every heart of any woman who’s got a lot to learn. It’s the ache of every woman that needs time to stand still and keep her wreckage from the world. It’s the ache of every woman desperately hoping that someone will love her while she’s learning, secretly guarding her imperfections so that she does not infect the ones she knows and loves. 

But time will never stay or stand still. Kids outgrow clothes, and the sun rises just as soon as we set our eyes to sleep. We barely catch our breath before we realize we’ve grown another year older, another year colder. And what we need at this point is not pity or apologies and not even just prayers.

What we need, at this point, is the truth that the God of the galaxies is enough to hold and handle our every emotion. What we need is the assurance that His love for us will not bend or break at the first — or second or third — sign of us losing faith. What we need is for the kind of grace that never rushes us or runs out on us.

We need the promise of His presence which never fails no matter what it is that we’re facing, both within and around us. We need the promise of a God who will walk with us through the scenarios that do not make sense, the circumstances in which we are still grieving and growing, still wandering and wondering.

These words from Adele, the honest confession of holding on and still having a lot to learn, pricked my seeking soul to recall story after story of God who walked through the most uncertain circumstance with a whole tribe of imperfect people. I am reminded of God who remained with the Israelites in their wilderness.

He was a God who didn’t just lead them out of their lostness but led them through it. Through every lesson they needed to learn — all of their polarity and immaturity, all of their unbelief and wavering grief — He walked with them, loving them as they learned to serve, love, and trust Him and each other.

I imagine the women — the grandmothers, mothers, sisters, aunts, cousins, wives, friends. I imagine their exhaustion from living in lostness, waking and rising to the same day in the wilderness, seemingly on repeat. I imagine them feeling like they didn’t know what they were doing, like they’d somehow gotten it all wrong. Feeling like, after all those years in Egypt, fighting for their freedom and singing about the sureness of God’s goodness, they still had so much left to learn as they carried out their faith, families, and future.

But God still loved them even in their learning.

By day the LORD went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so that they could travel by day or night. Neither the pillar of cloud by day nor the pillar of fire by night left its place in front of the people.
Exodus 13:21-22 (NIV)

And God loves us even in our learning. He provides for us and speaks promises over us, leading us through our darkest and hardest seasons when it feels like we are wandering around in the dark — confused, unsure, and barely hanging on.

And because of this great love — His promises, provision, and even protection — we do not have to circumvent the weight of our stories with anyone or hide the fact that we’ve not yet arrived. We can admit that we are tired and unsure and wary of the way even while we are trusting that God is holding us through it all. He leads and loves us even as we’re still learning.

What’s the One Thing That Matters Most to You Now?

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I’m wearing four layers of clothing: a bra, shirt, puffy vest, and coat — as if I’ve armored myself against what’s to come. On a chilly morning I step into a clinic for my yearly mammogram. As expected, I’m escorted to a tiny room and told to get rid of the layers.

The nurse holds up a garment and says, “When you’re done, put on this cape.” It’s covered in flowers and has a single snap at the neck. I have to admit that I feel a bit like Wonder Woman wearing it. And I might have put my hands on my hips and pretended to be her when the technician was busy looking at her computer screen.

I do not, however, feel like Wonder Woman throughout most of the procedure. As any woman who has been through this knows, I’m prodded and pinched, stretched and squished, twisted and placed in positions I did not know I was capable of achieving. The nurse is kind and tries to make the process less awkward. I tell her, “When I’m done, I’m going to get a treat. In my world, if you’re not a cowgirl and you have to be in stirrups or any body part must be compressed, then you get a treat.” She laughs.

I make my way to my favorite coffee shop afterward and order a latte. Then I open my laptop and take a look at my email inbox. Suddenly, I feel like I’m being stretched and compressed all over again — except this time it’s my energy and time that are getting worked over. There are several different requests, deadlines to be met, and messages from people with a variety of needs (all urgent). My anxiety immediately sky rockets, and I dive right in to getting things done. But in a few moments, I pause and realize I’ve had a relapse. Years ago, that’s the way I worked, the way I lived. It led me to the brink of burnout. I’m not going back.

Greg McKeown, the author of Essentialism, says, “Only once you give yourself permission to stop trying to do it all, to stop saying yes to everyone, can you make your highest contribution towards the things that really matter.” It can feel as if we are at the mercy of our calendars and to-do lists. This is a hard way to live. What I’m learning to ask instead is, “What’s most important right now?”

The Apostle Paul said, “I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us (Philippians 3:13-14). It can seem to us like Paul did a lot of things in his lifetime, but he really just did one thing in many different ways.

How would you fill in the blank in Paul’s declaration, “I focus on this one thing . . . “? You might answer with words about loving well, serving faithfully, living with excellence, or practicing resilience.

Then you can ask, “What does that specifically look like in this season of my life?”

These are not easy questions, but they can bring clarity to our lives. They can help us say “no” with courage and “yes” with conviction. As Greg McKeown also says, “If you don’t prioritize your life, someone else will.” Personally, I’ll take inner peace over being pulled in different directions any day (except maybe the one when I have to get my mammogram).

Shelly D. Calcagno’s words inspire and challenge me, “Sometimes I think of the future, and I imagine this family looking at some old pictures. . . . And some sweet child whom I’ve never met but who is part of my family in generations to come looks at my face and asks, ‘Tell me about her.’ What will they say about me? I hope they will see the good parts of me living on in them because I decided to live with purpose now.”

My guess is you are living with purpose — even (and perhaps especially) on the days when you can’t see it or you don’t feel it. Putting words to how you’re doing so is meant to be an affirmation of what you’re already doing, not another standard or expectation to live up to. You are surrounded by grace, supported by love, and you are doing so much better than you know.

God, there are so many good things to do in this world that it’s sometimes hard to see what’s really best. When we begin to get overwhelmed, to take on more than You ever asked us to do, help us to slow down, bring it all to You and choose wisely what we pursue. We are not here to do what everyone wants but what You will. Whew. Amen.

The holidays can be stressful. Pause and take a deep breath, then whisper a prayer, and answer this question, “What is the one thing I most want to pursue in this season?” I’d love to hear your answer in the comments!

Are you looking for an encouraging gift for the people you love this holiday season? Holley Gerth’s new devotional, What Your Soul Needs for Stressful Times: 60 Powerful Truths to Protect Your Peace, will be a blessing to everyone on your Christmas list.