How Forgiving Others Truly Sets Us Free

How Forgiving Others Truly Sets Us Free

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I’d lost count of the hurt.

At one point long ago, I kept a mental tally of the words and woundings, but eventually the list turned into a tangled mess. Instead of looking at each painful memory one by one like files in a cabinet or pages in a scrapbook, they started to feel like a knotted ball of yarn deep in the pit of my stomach.

I knew forgiveness was the way forward, but it was hard to know exactly how to get there.

The echoes of Bible verses about forgiveness swirled in my head, but it felt easier to hold onto my bitterness than to bless the person who’d hurt me. I feared that forgiving meant condoning the behavior. I thought setting them free would come at the expense of my own happiness. I was waiting for the apologies, the acceptance of responsibility, the right timing, the right way.

All the while, the tangled knot grew.

I sat in a circle of women wearing name tags and holding Styrofoam cups of coffee. They introduced themselves by their first names only and by the hurts and habits that brought them to the meeting that night. The complete honesty about their brokenness surprised me. I had never been in a church setting where people were so open about their addictions, unhealthy patterns, disappointments, or sinful behaviors. And yet no one flinched or sent condescending stares around the room. For how open they were about their need for Jesus, the hope they carried surprised me even more. Here they were, sharing out loud what could have easily been seen as chains of bondage — instead they seemed free.

I wanted to be free, but I didn’t even know where to start.

When it was my time to share in the circle, I didn’t say much. I tried to follow their pattern of introductions. I was embarrassed, unsure of myself, and didn’t know how to capture in one sentence why I was there. “Uhhh, hi. My name is Heather, and I’m a believer in Jesus. And I’m not sure why I’m here, but I pray it helps the person I came with tonight.” The meeting seemed like a great idea for my family member, but I kind of felt like an outsider. My anxiety about my own situation felt insignificant compared to the other struggles these women were facing. But something about that first night’s meeting stirred me with curiosity. I went back again the next week.

Every Monday night, we shared a meal together, listened to a teaching about Jesus and how He helps us recover our lives, and broke into small groups for a time of sharing. Some weeks I cried without knowing why, and other weeks I listened with awe at the freedom these women were fighting towards. Some weeks I took copious notes and other weeks I stared into my coffee cup, numb and overwhelmed by the pain I carried inside. Some weeks I cheered for my new friends when they picked up chips to mark their sobriety or forward progress, and other weeks I still wondered exactly why I was there.

Finally, we reached the series of Monday night teachings about the concept of forgiveness. The teacher for the evening opened with a quote I’ll never forget:

“Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

A chuckle passed through the room, but a harsh reality sank in quickly for me. I’d been drinking poison, and the bitterness was holding me back in my healing. Conviction gripped me. If I wanted to heal — if I wanted to live in freedom like these beautiful sisters of Christ around me — I needed to forgive. This was why God had brought me here.

Within the context of our smaller recovery group, I started sharing more of the hurt I’d carried inside for so long. The women in my circle listened. They thanked me for sharing and trusting them with my story. They prayed with me afterwards. They didn’t preach at me or try to fix me but continued to show up with me as I untangled the mess, string by string.

For years, they were the ones who walked with me through a separation, through the very difficult decision to pursue divorce, and through the subsequent years of single parenting. They helped me paint my kitchen in my new apartment, and we shared meals together on holidays when “family” had to look a little different for that year. All the while, we were pulling apart the knot.

In those recovery meetings, Jesus gave me an example of walking out forgiveness through those sisters in Christ.

They had forgiven family members, ex-spouses, friends, and children who had caused them pain. They’d forgiven old hurts from decades past and released active hurts that happened the same week as our meeting. And when they struggled with forgiveness, they confessed, and we prayed with them as they wrestled through.

My sisters gave me the courage to do my part — to name the hurts, lay them at Jesus’s feet, extend the forgiveness to others that He’d already graciously lavished upon me, and trust that He knew the rest of the path ahead. Something about relinquishing the control of my unforgiveness scared me, but as I began to loosen my grip on those debts, it lost its power over me.

In Matthew 18:21, Peter asks Jesus if there’s a limit to the number of times we’re expected to forgive others:

Then Peter came and said to Him, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.”

Gosh, sometimes my tangled unforgiveness knot seemed like it would take seventy times seventy times seventy iterations of forgiveness, but I realized this was exactly what God had done for me on the cross. I cannot quantify the number of times in my life I’ve sinned or the total number of times I will continue to sin, but I do know God has already called it finished. He separated my sin as far as the east is from the west, and asks me to do the same for my brothers and sisters in Christ. He doesn’t tell us to forgive all types of sin except for just this one type or to forgive every instance of sin until it reaches the maximum number He’s set forth. He tells us to keep forgiving because that’s what He did for us, and it’s what we’re called to do for others.

I forgave the person who hurt me the deepest, and while the relationship was never reconciled, I know God is pleased I’m no longer dragging around the chains of past hurts. He helped me spit out the poison of resentment so I could drink the fullness of life He had for me on the other side of forgiveness.

God used a women’s recovery group and seven years’ worth of Monday night coffee to show me the way to freedom, and I’m so glad He did.

What I Learned from Cooking Thanksgiving Dinner

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We’re mixing up Bible Study Mondays a bit today! Here’s a timely story by Aliza Latta, as published in Week 4 of Courageous Kindness! Scroll down for the usual reflection questions, video, and more.

“What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by robbers?” “The one who treated him kindly,” the religion scholar responded. Jesus said, “Go and do the same.”
Luke 10:36–37 (MSG)

I was about to cook my first turkey dinner for Thanksgiving. It felt like a big deal. I had no idea how to cook a turkey, but I figured if most people managed to cook a turkey on Thanksgiving, I could somehow figure out how to cook the bird myself.

I’d bought all the groceries I needed — far too many potatoes, if I’m being honest, but I’ve always been a firm believer in having as many mashed potatoes as possible.

I decided to cook at my sister’s house because she has a bigger kitchen, so I lugged all my groceries from the fridge in my apartment down to my car. It took three trips. On my final trip down, turkey tucked safely in my arms, I noticed the door of my neighbor’s apartment had water seeping out beneath it.

I kept walking, noticing more and more water filling the hallway. I sighed and looked down at the turkey I was holding. I was on a strict timeline — I had even drafted an oven schedule so I’d know exactly what time everything should be cooking.

My neighbor popped out from behind her door, looking frantic. “There’s water everywhere!”

She wasn’t speaking to me, exactly, but there was no one else in the hallway. For a split second, I considered continuing on my way and pretending I hadn’t seen her. But then I remembered a prayer I’d prayed only days earlier: God, give me opportunities to meet my neighbors.

I wanted to laugh. God sure answered that prayer quickly! So I stopped and introduced myself. “I’m Aliza. I can help. Do you have a mop?”

“I’m Mara,” she said.

Mara and I talked as we mopped. More accurately, I did the mopping, and she did the talking. I couldn’t help but smile, though. I briefly whispered a prayer to God and told Him, Thanks for the chance to meet Mara. Maybe this is exactly what Thanksgiving is for.

Mara and I didn’t become best friends, but we did exchange Christmas cards, and now we smile wider when we see each other in the hallway.

My turkey dinner was a little late. But as the day passed and I was able to start cooking, I became more and more grateful for my encounter with Mara. And I started to wonder: Perhaps being inconvenienced is actually the best way to love your neighbor.

– Aliza Latta

When we think about courageous “as we go on our way” kindness, it’s easy to want to look at it through a shiny Instagram filter. As in, how nice to hold the door for a hands-full mama as you walk into a store. Or how kind to pick up the tab for the person behind you in the drive-through line. Sure, such small gestures are great and will probably put a smile on someone’s face — maybe even assure them that a total stranger (and God) is mindful of them.

But this week we’re going to discover that while courageous kindness can be simple, it also requires our compassion and inconvenience. That first word might sound warm and fuzzy, but the second . . . not so much. However, as we’ll learn in a story Jesus told to a group of religious leaders, we can’t truly live without either.

Grab your copy of Courageous Kindness and keep reading Week 4!

Discussion Video

Three (in)courage writers invite us into their conversations about Courageous Kindness! Join study author Becky Keife alongside Grace P. Cho and Lucretia Berry each week as they discuss the readings. Listen in on their conversation about Week 4 (and find all the weekly videos here):

Reflection Questions

In the comments below, answer and discuss:

  • What would you do if you saw an opportunity to help someone but it would be a big inconvenience?
  • Would you pretend not to see their need and rush by, or would you “put down your turkey”?

Let’s Pray Together

Jesus, if there is any way I have falsely understood who my neighbor is, please correct my thinking. As You extend love and compassion to all people, I want to do the same. Lord, give me an opportunity this week to be a neighbor to someone. I’m willing to be inconvenienced for Your name’s sake. Amen.

Click here for a FREE week from each of our four Courageous Bible Studies and free leader resources! Also, tune in each Thursday for a new episode of the (in)courage podcast to hear from (in)courage team members Anna & Joy, and writers Becky, Lucretia, and Grace as they all work their way through the study right alongside you. Listen wherever you stream podcasts (or find all the episodes here!)

Answer the reflection questions in the comments so we can discuss Week 4 together, and we’ll see you back here next Monday to begin Week 5!

PS – Happy Thanksgiving week to our friends in the US!

A Blessing for the Changing of the Season

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I grew up with palm trees overhead and flip-flops on my feet, even on Christmas. After eighteen years of summer year-round, I moved twelve hours north. Fall doesn’t arrive here until mid-November, but it does arrive, and there’s a 100% chance you’ll find me gushing over hues of red and maroon, school bus yellow and bright orange. I’ll happily put on a scarf every morning, stir soup on the stove in the afternoon, and light a pumpkin or cinnamon candle in the evening.

What I’m saying is that I’m nearly thirty-years-old, but yes, I will pull the car over just to get a picture of the leaves changing and clap my hands at the first snowfall. What’s normal to others feels like magic to me, shimmering like a filter and covering even the most ordinary of moments with delight.

The thing about seasons, though, is that they always come and go. Even as I stare in wonder at the glorious colors, I know that in a matter of days or weeks, the leaves are going to fall, crinkling and floating down, only to be crunched right before snow makes its arrival.

The hours of daylight are already shrinking. What is so beautiful and vibrant will die as winter slides in, covering the colors with a chill. Spring will eventually arrive and flowers will bloom, but there’s no way around it — we have to walk through winter first.

At the close of 2018, years before the word “pandemic” was part of our regular vocabulary, I wrote “Truth to Hold onto When Everything is Changing.” In many ways, the last two years have felt like one long winter with brief glimpses of the hope of spring, the joy of summer, and the beauty of fall. Nothing is changing and everything is changing, somehow at the very same time.

As we prepare for an external winter around us while experiencing an extended internal winter within us, I’ve found myself returning to the truth that has been a constant and a comfort through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.

God is a God of seasons, the One who keeps time and is outside of time all at the same time. He will not be rushed, and He will not be late — but He will be faithful. He is the God who comes to us and stays with us and who cannot be confined to a calendar page.

As Charles Spurgeon said, “The seasons change and you change, but the Lord abides evermore the same, and the streams of His love are as deep, as broad and as full as ever.”

This is the promise in every season: God is unchanging, and His love for us does not waver.

And this unchanging One? He could have come on any day at any time. He’s the hope of spring, the joy of summer, and the beauty of fall . . . and yet He chose the winter.

After four hundred years of silence, in the bitter cold and the dark of night, Light broke through. The Creator held by human hands that He created, swaddled in a manger. Angels proclaiming good news for all. Shepherds searching on the outskirts of town. A long-ago promise fulfilled.

Hope. Joy. Beauty. Right there, even in the winter.

As the calendar pages turn and the seasons shift, may we hold tightly to the One who doesn’t change, who walks with us through the silence of winter until new life arrives. The Promise Maker is a Promise Keeper, and He isn’t going anywhere — Emmanuel, God with us in every season.

A Blessing for the Changing of the Season:

In every high and every low, may we remember that we do not walk alone. There is grace for each moment in a Guide who makes a way and a Friend that stays beside. The seasons may change, but His love will remain the same. Instead of holding our breath in fear or dread, may we breathe in His abundant grace and breathe out trust in the Keeper of time. May we trust the unknown of the future to the One we know is authoring its pages. And with our hands open and eyes fixed, may we rest and remember: For everything there is a season, and the unchanging God will be with us in every one.

For more hope-filled encouragement, free lock screens for your phone, and book recommendations from Kaitlyn, follow her on Instagram!

How Being Like a Bulldog Teaches Us to Be Tenacious

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I feel battle weary. I have decision fatigue. I am tattered and exhausted. My knees are tired from hitting the floors in prayer, and my spirit is weary from moments of sheer confusion. In the last month our family has dealt with multiple trips to the emergency room, a difficult city government regarding the sale of our home, a major move and financial frustrations. I’ve seen God do miracles in the eleventh hour when we knew only He could fix the problem or provide for us. I’ve dealt with outcomes we didn’t want. I’m exhausted, but I continue to hold on.

My mom calls me her little bulldog. I could be offended, but I get it. A bulldog has a personality that is persistent and determined. If something belongs to a bulldog, she grabs on and doesn’t let go, no matter who tries to take it from her. She has been designed by God to be able to breathe as she locks her jaws on to what she knows is hers. I embrace the personality of a bulldog when it comes to what God has told me about who I am, what He’s done, what He promises, and what He can do through me. An outsider might think I’m stubborn and not living in reality. But when it comes to God’s truth, I believe it’s smart to grab on and never let go.

I realize it’s easy to be frustrated after the first time something doesn’t work in your family, career, or plans. It’s even more exhausting when God asked you to do something or led you to a decision and then things don’t go as planned the first time or even the tenth time. Maybe you’ve never seen God come through in the situation you desperately prayed for. I can relate to all of the above.

Remember your determination, overcoming spirit, and persistence is an expression of faith in the middle of those difficult moments. Being tenacious with God is a lost art, and when we persevere, it makes others pay attention to how God persistently loves them.

As you pick up the pieces of whatever you’re facing, know that God holds all things together. As you choose to try again, know that He will be with you wherever you go and gives you the courage you desperately need to go on. As you seek wisdom, God promises to reveal all things to you and give you His vision. As you seek Him in the midst of the hard times, God will remind you that He is holding you and the world around you together.

Somehow I keep holding on to the Lord and to His promises tighter when the storms come. There are always seasons when the storms rage, but I’m unwilling to yield or give up. I look for the hundredth solution that just might work. I wake up at 3 a.m. to search for a new treatment. I pray for wisdom and favor and help from God and His people. Some might call me annoying, but I am persistent in my faith knowing Whose I am and what He says about me.

Throughout my life’s most difficult experiences, I’ve learned that the Spirit shows up to refresh us and tighten our grip to the truth. We can be tired and still tenacious. 

I’m beyond weary as I unpack our boxes in our rent house, pray that we finally close on the sale of our house, and run to get another prescription. But even in the hard moments, the Holy Spirit has been kind enough to whisper reminders of who I am that have nothing to do with my situation: I am a daughter of the King.

Sisters, we are His heirs, and we need to start acting like the King, allowing His traits to be revealed in us. And if God is one thing, He is tenacious. He never gives up on us. He holds all things together. He pursues us with His overwhelming love, and He is determined to make sure every last person has heard the good news of His salvation. 

No matter what you’re facing today, let’s be like a pack of bulldogs, holding on to God in times of trouble and unwilling to let go of His promises.

Value the Contributions of Women By Naming Them

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It was another hot summer day in Texas as I drove across town to meet up with friends — some new, some old. We piled onto a long picnic bench and, as we waited for our food to arrive, we passed the time by introducing ourselves. Even before it was my turn, my mind started racing with what to say: Should I share a few standard facts about my life, like where I live and what I do? Which parts of my life do I include? Which parts do I downplay?

I think many of us, as women, struggle with how to present ourselves in public and what we want people to know about us. This is especially true for me as an Indian American woman. In the traditional community and home where I grew up, I was taught to be humble and not focus too much on myself as an individual. For example, if you asked a first-generation Indian grandmother, she’d probably say it’s okay for me to share that my husband is a pastor but talking about the work I do in the church could come across as prideful, even selfish. I had grown up learning to share minimal details about myself and my work while also downplaying my unique contributions in the home, in ministry, and in society at large.

By the time it was my turn to share, I was a mess inwardly. My heart was thumping fast, and my words came stumbling out. I think I stuttered something about church planting and added another half-broken sentence about writing and teaching before quickly turning my eyes to the next person, hoping this would signal them to start talking and my turn would be over. To my surprise, one of my friends quickly jumped in and said, “Well, hold on now. You do much more than that, Michelle.”

My cheeks felt like they were burning. But fear quickly turned to relief as my friend spoke encouraging words over me. Not only did my friend mention my titles — that is, the roles and positions I have, he also mentioned some of the things I’d accomplished. Finally, and to my surprise, he added, “I’d listen to Michelle speak any day.” In a few sentences, my friend not only named the good work I was up to, but he also put his own name as a reference for me. I was stunned and also extremely grateful.

That simple encounter changed my life.

My friend went out of his way to show that he valued me and my contributions in the world — and not in some theoretically vague sort of way. He did it by naming my titles, my good works, and aligning his reputation with my own. Since that encounter, I’ve sought to go and do likewise — not just to say I value my fellow women but to also show it in my words and with my actions.

Valuing the contributions of women is not a secular agenda. The Bible valued women first. From the very first woman, Eve, who was a co-priest with Adam in the temple garden, to Achsah, Jael, Deborah, Esther, and Ruth in the Old Testament to Tabitha (Dorcas), Lydia, and Priscilla in the New Testament, as well as the unnamed women prophesying in the public square (1 Corinthians 11), Scripture believes in the giftings and talents of women. Women in the Bible were strong and capable. They served in high level leadership, and they accomplished great things for the kingdom of God. More than that, they were praised for their good works. King David praised Abigail for her wisdom. Tamar’s cleverness was attributed by Judah as righteousness. Jesus Himself praised the faith of many women and spends time in the homes of Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Susanna, and many others.

Today’s reality in many ways is a far cry from the biblical model. I think of fellow pastor’s wives with incredible talents, who have been taught to call themselves nothing more than faithful attendees at church and helpers to their husbands. I think of female entrepreneurs and artists, pursuing gospel restoration in their communities, but whose contributions are not treated as equally significant as to their male counterparts. Then there are the female speakers and teachers, whose voices are treated more as a threat to the church than as a vital asset. Things are not as they should be.

How different would our world look if we valued each other as Scripture does? Most of us come from cultures where we were taught not to make a big deal about the work that women do, so learning to praise women the way God does will take time and intentional effort.

So how do we do this?

The next time we’re in a group gathering, whether a dinner fellowship at someone’s home or an encounter at work or in our community, let’s take the time to name another woman’s good works and align our own reputation with hers. In the church, let’s show that we value the contributions of women by giving them the titles they deserve and making space on Sunday mornings to publicly name the good work that women are doing in our local body.

Seeing and naming each other’s good works is how we can show we value each other. Let’s intentionally point out the good and the beautiful in each other’s lives. Let’s affirm the gifts and talents that we see in our fellow women, proudly sharing their titles and contributions to the kingdom when the opportunities come. And let’s be willing to put our own name on the line to vouch for and recommend each other.

Sisters, let’s live into the biblical calling to value women as God does, and may we do so to the glory of God.

Bible Study with Others Is Always Worth It

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Earlier this fall I signed up for a reading plan in my Bible app. It promised I could read the entire New Testament in just three months, and I decided that’s exactly what I needed: a challenging goal broken into doable steps. Surely I could follow this plan.

I eagerly read the first few chapters of Matthew on the day I clicked join and felt so determined, so excited to see what I’d learn about God, and — let’s be honest — so pleased with myself and my certain success in reading and comprehending the Bible in a brand new way.

Fast forward to the next week, where I opened the app for the first time since and saw 10 MISSED DAYS jump out from my screen. Ten days. I’d only managed to follow the Bible-reading plan for a single day before simply forgetting for a week and a half.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Life is busy and hard and distracting. Between parenting and working and scrolling through Instagram for more time than I’d like to admit, days and weeks can get away from me — and before I know it, I’ve fallen into a slump where prayers are sporadic and actual time spent in Scripture is nonexistent.

This is why I choose to join a small group or Bible study every chance I get. Without the accountability and guidance of a Bible study, I’m forced to seek out a plan for reading and then left to rely on my own discipline to actually follow the steps and carry out the plan. While I consider myself a mature believer and responsible person in general, this is one area where I never succeed on my own.

Being part of a Bible study — whether as a member or the leader, reading a book or watching videos, meeting in person or online — has been a crucial part of my faith journey for decades now. When I’m active in a group, I’m motivated to dig deeper, to listen more openly, to stay open to hearing God’s voice in new ways. Being part of a Bible study group “forces” me (in the best way) to follow through on the goals I set for myself, as our schedule and the other members of the group hold me accountable with love and grace.

It can be hard, of course. Fitting an hour or two into my already busy schedule, being vulnerable with people I may not know well, exercising my rusty skills and creating new habits for more frequent prayer, meditation, or reading — these are often required when joining a small group or Bible study. But when I’m willing to pay that price, the return is so much greater than trying to grow in my faith alone.

Several months ago, my church invited every member to join a small group to study the book of Mark. I’d gotten out of the habit of being in small group since social distancing was necessary, so even though I’m a long-time small group leader in my church, I was reluctant this time. But I signed up to lead a group and invited several friends. Over the next couple of months, we dug into the gospel of Mark and learned more about the life of Jesus than I can ever remember (and certainly deeper and more than I would have done on my own).

Because of this group, I am in the Word more often than I would be left to my own devices (or even a Bible-reading plan on my device!). I’ve been challenged to look at God and His Word differently and more deeply, and it’s truly made a difference in how I see God and my place in His plan. I think the same is true for the other ladies who join me on Monday nights.

It may not always be easy or comfortable or convenient, but doing Bible study with others is always worth it.

We love these honest words from Mary Carver, and we feel her. Are you looking for a Bible Study but don’t want the extra work of organizing or planning it? Don’t feel like digging through piles of studies looking for one that’s relevant yet hopeful, deep yet relatable? No group to gather with in your community?

We can help.

Join us weekly for Bible Study Mondays as we go through Courageous Kindness as an online community! Yep, we’re hosting an online study, and you’re invited. Each week we share the reading assignment, teaching video, reflection questions, and more. Find all the posts and conversation videos here, and feel free to go through them at your own pace.

Then, listen in as five (in)courage writers go through Courageous Kindness weekly on our podcast! In each episode this season, Anna and Joy bring their own stories to the table, Becky reads an excerpt from the study, and Becky, Grace, and Lucretia sit around a table and offer their teaching and experiences. It’s a rich, deep, and fun way to spend a few minutes every week! Subscribe wherever you stream podcasts so you don’t miss a single episode.

The weeks line up so you can read the Bible Study Monday post first and get your own reading going, then add to it when new podcast episodes drop on Thursdays.

Remember that old line, “Help us help you”? Well, friends, this is how we’re taking it to heart! Join us over these few weeks for this study on kindness. We know God will do big things in your heart along the way.

When Storms Come My Way, God Knows Better Than Me

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The other day it was bright and sunny, and I decided to go on a walk. My regular tennis shoes had gotten wet and weren’t dry yet, so I found my son’s old pair of tennis shoes to wear. As I was lacing up, I thought, “These shoes never make your feet feel good after you wear them.” But I still carried on because the other option was flip flops and that didn’t seem smart either. 

As I was walking, I kept feeling the top of my foot ache deeper and deeper, resembling a stress fracture I’d had in the past. I think I’m going to have to turn back. I was getting really annoyed because I knew it would mean turning around only halfway into my planned walk — on such a pretty day too! I prayed for God to heal my foot, but it kept hurting even more. I grew a little resentful. God, I know You can do this. It seems like a small thing, but I just want to walk. You know this is good for my brain and body! As if letting God know the details He already knows about me would do some good.

I came inside and immediately kicked off the shoes, grabbed a drink of water, and went to the bathroom. When I came out into the main area, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The sky had grown dark, and huge clouds loomed. It wasn’t the same sky as it had been two minutes ago. Then the most sideways rain began to fall aggressively in sheets, making the tree limbs sway so hard I thought they would fall. 

Glad I wasn’t out in that! I stopped in my tracks, taken aback by God’s mercy for me. I had just been complaining to Him about my foot hurting and practically accusing Him of not knowing what was best for me. He didn’t heal my foot because He was gently bringing me home to be safe and out of the storm. 

That might seem like a trivial example, but I can give you a long list of failed plans and dreams where I was really disappointed in the outcome and wondered what God was thinking.

Another time, God gave me a picture of being on a beach with a raging storm coming my way. I was alone and the sky was growing dark and veins of lightning stretched across the clouds. There were no shelters, no homes, only one giant rock jutting like a mammoth out of the sand. I heard, “Run into the cleft of that rock. The sea is going to rage, but you will be safe in there.” So I ran as fast as I could — just in time. This was right before my marriage fell apart, and I’d be devastated beyond what I believed I could endure. I was certainly crushed, but in the end, I was not destroyed. That was because I ran into the protection of that Rock. His nearness, His strength — they saved me. 

I often want to question what God is doing in my life when it feels uncomfortable, which is silly because I am not all-knowing, all-loving, all-wise. When I think I know better than God, it means I don’t actually trust Him. I want control because I believe I will do better! Just writing that feels really silly. It reminds me of Job who withstood so much suffering:

Listen to this, Job;
stop and consider God’s wonders.
Do you know how God controls the clouds
and makes his lightning flash?
Do you know how the clouds hang poised,
those wonders of him who has perfect knowledge?
Job 37:14-16 (NIV)

Perfect knowledge. He has the perfect knowledge to carry you through your storm, like He’s carried me through mine, time and time again. He will equip you perfectly, give you the perfect amount of faith, the perfect amount of supernatural wisdom and strength — not an accidental or haphazard amount. I say this to myself when I’m feeling afraid or anxious, “He’s done it before, and He’ll be faithful to do it again.”

Whenever I preach that beautiful truth to myself and remember all the times it’s been true, I find hope. So say it with me today if you’re in the middle of a storm, if you can’t understand God’s way, or if you can’t see beyond the falling apart that’s happening right before your eyes, “He’s done it before, and He’ll be faithful to do it again.”

Episode 17: The Ministry of Toilet Scrubbing and Benchmarks of Kindness

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Welcome back to the (in)courage podcast! In true (in)courage style, we’ve got some stories to tell and some real life to talk through.

Today Becky Keife, Courageous Kindness author, joins us again! She talks with fellow (in)courage team member Anna about Week 3 of the Courageous Kindness Bible study. They discuss the ministry of childcare and kindnesses offered that are big and small and become benchmark moments. You also don’t want to miss Mary Carver’s story from this week of the study, which involves a school dumpster and a missing retainer and that goes right along with Psalm 40:1-3.

You’ll also hear an excerpt of the Bible study, written and read by author Becky Keife and a selection from the companion Bible Study videos! These video discussions feature (in)courage writers Lucretia Berry and Grace P. Cho alongside Becky, and they offer us a seat beside them in the living room as they go through Courageous Kindness together.

Listen to the weekly episodes and also join the discussion in our Monday online study, right here! Yep, we’re going through Courageous Kindness both on the podcast AND as an online community, and you’re invited to both. We hope you’ll join us!

Listen to today’s episode below or wherever you stream podcasts! Subscribe to the (in)courage podcast so you don’t miss a single episode! And pick up your copy of the Courageous Kindness Bible study from DaySpring.com, and be sure to use code PODCAST25 to save 25% and get free shipping on your copy.

Why Choosing Joy Isn’t Selfish

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I wanted to choose English as my major in college. Because I grew up without much, books had become my prized joy. I remember sitting on the carpet in kindergarten when my teacher Mrs. Carol told us it was library day. Can you imagine how shocked and excited I was to learn we could borrow books from the school library and take them home? Wahoo!

Ah-ma, my mother, had quit school when she was thirteen. She became a mail-order bride to immigrate to America from Hong Kong and gave birth to me at eighteen. When I was seven, my father abandoned our family, and I had to grow up quick. My world narrowed, hemmed in by responsibilities as the oldest. But since that fateful day I carried my first library book home, Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoben, books became my best friends.

So when it came time to apply for college, it only seemed natural I’d want to be surrounded by what gave me the most joy: books. I longed to build my life in a world inhabited by stories and words.

But Ah-ma didn’t agree.

“You’re selfish. How does studying English help our family?” Ah-ma queried. “You just want to be happy for yourself? Fly away like a bird and leave me and your little sister here in our bad neighborhood?”

How could I be happy knowing others in my family weren’t happy? I scolded to myself. Don’t be selfish, Bonnie. 

This was the moment I incorrectly learned that loving someone meant giving up what brought me joy. The greater the love, the more important it was to put aside what gave me joy. My love was evidenced by the joy I was willing to surrender.

These statements created the misbeliefs I carried about joy into my relationship with God and adulthood. I always felt it was more important to be content rather than to choose joy. I told myself it was nice to have joy — but only if it was a by-product of taking care of others. I didn’t need joy. Joy wasn’t necessity; it was a luxury I thought I couldn’t afford.

Of course, this was a misbelief that God corrected later when I became a mom myself to two boys and started experiencing anxiety and panic attacks. I had to learn to replace the lies with the truth I learned about joy from God’s Word.

To heal, I had to learn I was worthy of joy.

Perhaps, today, God is inviting you to do the same — to quietly lay down the things you do out of performance and busyness and open the gift of joy He’s placed in you.

When do you remember feeling joy as a child? Was it when you rode your bike, dipped your brush in paint, or wrote in your journal? Did you feel joy when your hair flew as you danced, when your fingers touched the keys of your piano, or when you sang in front of the mirror with your hairbrush? Did you spend hours creating a world for your Barbie dolls, laughing on the swings with a friend, dusting your hands in flour baking with your grandma or fishing with your grandpa?

Or maybe, like me, you don’t have a lot of childhood memories spent getting lost in joy, but you secretly long to explore what would give you joy now.

Joy may feel selfish, but it isn’t.

Joy becomes your heart’s response to God when you reclaim your rightful place in this world as someone valued, seen, and important — His beloved child.

Joy challenges you to ask yourself whether you believe you are worth prioritizing. The truth is, a well-loved woman who chooses joy will naturally bless others, like a river being filled by refreshing spring rain.

You are not obligated to make others happy first before you choose what gives you joy.  

Jesus whispers, Just as you can only give the comfort that you first receive yourself, so it is with joy. Choose joy today.

Notice the order of how the care of God flows — it starts first with you receiving joy and comfort. And when you get refilled, you’ll be like a river flowing out to others.

Jesus is gentle and kind. He cares about how you’re doing. Especially when life is stressful, it’s even more important to get refilled! You’re His beloved.

These things I have spoken to you so that . . . your joy may be made full.
John 15:11 (NASB)

Whenever I speak to couples, women’s groups, even U.S. military officers, the greatest resistance to joy I hear is, “It feels selfish to choose joy.”

But it isn’t. Choosing joy is a holy, sacred, and countercultural act of faith to say:

“I don’t have to earn rest. I don’t have to earn my happiness. I live by grace. My Heavenly Father has something beautiful and joyful that I only I get to enjoy. I don’t need to have a perfect life to choose joy. Even though my life is messy and I am imperfect, God says I’m still worth it. I choose joy.”

So, friend, what do you like to do that gives you joy? Share a comment and then go enjoy that!

Want More Joy? Get my FREE Christmas Advent Devotional + book club for my new book Sweet Like Jasmine: Finding Identity in a Culture of Loneliness #1 New Release in Christian Biographies by signing up here! I’m so excited to encourage you with God’s love with this book! Sign up here!

Here’s the One Thing That Will Never Change

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I had it all memorized — the way some people memorize favorite songs, Bible verses, or math facts. That’s how I had my town memorized — by heart. I knew which sidewalk bulges could derail a Schwinn bike. I knew shortcuts through alleyways; funny bluish hairdos of hunched old ladies at church; the smell of the Farmer’s Co-op break room, which reeked of dust and cigarettes.

If I close my eyes, I can see it. Even more, I can feel it.

I’m five years old, pressing fingers into hot, bubbling road-tar in July. I’m eight, gripping the creaking, cool chains of swings at our town’s only playground. I’m twelve, diving deep into the depths of our town’s inky pond, flutter-kicking all the way to the bottom to grab handfuls of cold mud.

When you live in one town — one house — for your entire growing-up life, you can’t help but memorize every last inch of a place. In a town like that, your own self is everywhere long after you leave — on every street, library table, and ball field dugout.

I knew the place and the people, and they knew me. And that’s how I knew I had a secure place in this world.

For most of my childhood life, one woman, Kathy, cut my hair. Another woman, Marge, delivered my café cheeseburgers. One suited man, Harry, stood at the doorway of the Sliefert Funeral Chapel in town. He greeted us with soft pats on our backs, because he knew we were nervous about seeing another old church friend in a casket.

I knew where a lot of them would be buried years before they died. That’s because they had their gravestones set in place early — with blank spaces where a death date could be etched.

All that sameness might give some people a case of chronic itchy feet.

Me? I liked the stability. Sure, I had dreams of moving on. And I did move on. But no matter where I was, I wanted to know I belonged, like I did back home.

I confess this: As a child, I naively thought that most people lived like me — in one house, with stability and security. Of course, that’s not true.

Over the years, I’ve befriended women with very different stories that were downright unpredictable. I have asked them, “How did you find stability and security in life, even when things seemed to always be changing?” One friend told me she moved ten times before she was ten years old. “Stability came for me from two things. Dinner together every night (often by candlelight) and a father who always came home at the end of the day.” Another wrote that she had “nothing at all” stable in her own home. She found stability at the dinner tables of friends’ families. A woman who lived in foster care recalled how she was allowed to tape photos of her loved ones across the bedroom walls. It made her feel at home.

All of that, I think, reveals how we want a safe place in this world, in times of upheaval. Even more, we want to know we have a forever place. We long for heaven. It’s built into us, right into our hearts. In Ecclesiastes, Solomon writes: “He has planted eternity in the human heart” (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

The older I get, the more I see it. The only unchangeable thing in life is this: God. “I am the Lord, and I do not change” (Malachi 3:6).

About a dozen years ago, our family began to attend a country church near our home. I learned a contemporary hymn, “I Was There to Hear Your Borning Cry,” often sung at funerals. Whenever I think of the song, my mind is flooded with memories of sad goodbyes. But it also reminds me of God’s with-ness, from the very beginning of life to the final moment. The song’s verses move from a person’s first “borning cry,” to baptism, to a life unfolding, to a wandering off “where demons dwell.” The song calls to remembrance how God is with us in the middle ages of life, how He guides us through the night, and finally how He is there with “one more surprise”: life eternal with God.

Until we reach that moment of surprise, we naturally reach out to find some kind of stability wherever we are — maybe at a dinner table, with a group of friends, in a church singing the hymns that make you sad/happy.

Or by revisiting the memorized streets of your own hometown.

Recently, I went back to that town. I walked along the bulging sidewalks. I visited the pond. I returned to the swings, hoping to fly once more, to feel that sensation of swinging higher still.

But when I turned the corner, I saw it: my swings were gone. The whole swing set had been dismantled. Even the little things that change can cause a twinge in one’s heart, a longing, and a quiet reminder that there’s only one thing — one Person — who will never, ever change.

Growing up, where did you find stability and security in life, even when things seemed to always be changing?

The Power of Bending Low and Lifting Others Up

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Time for Bible Study Monday! We are thrilled to go through our newest Bible study, Courageous Kindness, right here with you. Each Monday for six weeks we provide the reading assignment, a discussion video featuring three (in)courage writers, a quote of the week, reflection questions, and a prayer. All you need is your copy of Courageous Kindness and an open heart, and we’ll take care of the rest!

Pick up your copy of Courageous Kindness, and start Week 3, which shows the power of bending low and lifting others up.

Reading Assignment

This week, read Week 3: Bending Low and Lifting Up, on pages 85-121 in Courageous Kindness. Grab your copy and start reading!

Discussion Video

Three (in)courage writers invite us into their conversations about Courageous Kindness! Join study author Becky Keife alongside Grace P. Cho and Lucretia Berry each week as they discuss the readings. Listen in on their conversation about Week 3 (and find all the weekly videos here):

Quote of the Week

Keep this quote in mind as you read Week 3:

You will be marked by your kindness. And so will the person you were kind to. 

– Becky Keife in Courageous Kindness. Feel free to download this quote to share with a friend!

Reflection Questions

In the comments below, answer and discuss the following reflection questions:

  • When have you faced an impossible season or situation? How did God use the support of others to help you?
  • What is your takeaway this week for what it means to be a woman of courageous kindness?

Let’s Pray Together

God, thank You for loving me and creating me for relationship — with You and with others. Not only do I not want to do life on my own, but I can’t do it. I need You, and I need spiritual mothers and fathers and sisters in Christ. Please provide the encouragement and support I need today, and show me opportunities to extend this love and kindness to others. Amen.

Click here to get a FREE week from each of our four Courageous Bible Studies and get free leader resources! Also, tune in each Thursday for a new episode of the (in)courage podcast and hear from (in)courage team members Anna and Joy, and writers Becky, Lucretia, and Grace as they all work their way through the study right alongside you. Listen wherever you stream podcasts (or find all the episodes here!)

Answer the reflection questions in the comments so we can discuss Week 3 together! Blessings as you work through Week 3, and we’ll see you back here next Monday to begin Week 4!

Ask Yourself: What’s the Worst That Could Happen?

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A dear friend of mine has an unusual and unsettling knack that, after years of being blindsided by it, I’ve decided is actually a gift. At times when I’m particularly troubled by the potential outcome of a situation, she looks at me and calmly asks, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Then, before I even have a chance to answer, she names it: the most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad possibility I could’ve dared to imagine. The one that’s been lurking in the dark, under my bed, around the edge of my subconscious. The one keeping me up at night and stealing my peace.

Once she speaks this worst-case scenario out loud, we look at it dead on, unflinching. Then she matter-of-factly says, “Okay, so this will probably happen. And if it does, you’ll deal with it, survive, and move on.” Although the outcome itself doesn’t improve, I’m forced to see beyond it — to a future where I endured the worst and lived to tell, where I was forced to bend but did not break.

I’ve been the recipient of these unorthodox pep talks several times over the years, and surprisingly, they never fail to help. Speaking my worst fears out loud, acknowledging them, and then accepting them as likely outcomes helps break their grip on me more effectively than living in a state of unnamed dread.

C.S. Lewis once famously said, “ . . . do not let us begin by exaggerating the novelty of our situation.” Although it’s easy to feel overwhelmed and maybe a little desperate in the face of difficult circumstances, it can be comforting to remember they aren’t unique in human history.

What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
Ecclesiastes 1:9 (NIV)

This is big-picture perspective — to remember that the Lord has consoled people in similar circumstances for years, if not millennia, and He will be there to guide you through it too. As difficult as hard times may be, these experiences enable us to minister to others, as we recall how Jesus stood beside us when we walked through the fire. It’s the unexpected silver lining: Our pain has purpose if we bless others with the gift of our hard-won wisdom and testimony.

What are you most afraid of? Take an honest look at your situation and ask yourself, What’s the worst that could happen? If or when this happens, what will you do and how will it effect your life? Thinking through the possibilities in advance, helps you visualize a plan of action so you’re less likely to be caught by surprise. It also helps to focus your prayers. I often pray that the Lord’s will will be done and that I will have the grace to accept it.

Do you face something today that feels impossible to bear? Whether it’s an unexpected move, potential job loss, a health scare, a troubled child, a rocky patch in your marriage, the loss of a close friend or a family member, the emotional toll of extended isolation, or literally any other problem, the God of all creation is just a prayer away.

Learning to ask yourself, “What’s the worst that can happen?” can help you prepare for the future instead of fearing it. Learning to ask others “What’s the worst that can happen?” can enable you to help a friend who feels the future is troubling and out of control. The worst that can happen will never defeat us when God walks before us and beside us through it all.

If God be for us, who can be against us?
Romans 8:31 (KJV)

What Will You Feed Them?

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Everyday I feel as if I am rushing ten steps forward and twelve steps back. Between work, laundry, clutter, wedding plans, church, my non-profit launch, and then family mealtimes, sometimes my days end, and I simply ponder how the kids can be hungry again. For years, I’ve been a huge proponent of my tongue in cheek phrase: “The ministry of making you feel better about yourself.” Today’s disclosure is that I’ve worn the same cute (and still smelling fresh) outfit three days in a row because I knew that each day I’d encounter different people.

How has this happened? I idled in neutral for an entire year, and then suddenly I flipped into fast forward by doing exactly what I vowed not to. Instead of fighting for margin, I pack my calendar. Instead of pursing intentional time, I allow the mediocrity of my moments creep in and steal my joyful bandwidth. Amidst my multitasking, I wake up worried, wondering what items fell through the cracks. And that’s the last thing I desire as we step into these upcoming celebratory months.

My heart beats faster as I type, announcing that it’s time for me to push back, to reclaim more uncomplicated moments, to remember the beauty in a wise “no” and think through my whys with calendar decisions. Even though last year held stressors and struggles, I also stepped into a rhythm of simple pleasures that I hadn’t embraced in years. Baking scones and cinnamon rolls to share with others, slow candlelit morning devotions, learning about cut flower gardening, and lingering at the dinner table amidst powerful conversations topped a few of my favorite things.

Can you reminisce about last Thanksgiving and Christmas season? Knee deep in the unknown impacts of the pandemic, many of us still experienced the slowest, most simple holiday season in years. With parties canceled, guest lists scrunched, money saved, and evenings at home, we contemplated how to maintain this simple rhythm once mandates lifted.

So as the temptation looms to rush and ready ourselves for upcoming festivities, let’s push back against packed calendars filled with unnecessary stress and savor the celebratory moments we are creating.

Since November and December are months focused on feeding people well, let’s do more than feed tummies. Let’s remember to feed their souls, their hearts, their imagination, their creativity. I’ll start the list:

  1. Feed gratitude. As I nurture this quality, joy thrives and priories realign.
  2. Feed flexibility. Our best laid plans may not happen. Guests will be late. Food will get cold, but in the bigger scheme of things, it’s nothing. I open my hands and offer up my attempted control.
  3. Feed patience (lots of it). We live in a world of tension. Be the balm. “A hot-tempered man stirs up dissension, but a patient man calms a quarrel” (Proverbs 15:18).
  4. Feed laughter. There’s nothing better than cultivating an atmosphere of deep belly laughing after a satisfying meal. Laugh so hard that tears run down your legs — kidding but not.
  5. Feed contentment. With all the Black Friday sales, it’s difficult to remember the balance of need vs. want. We truly have everything we need.
  6. Feed compassion. Even though Old Aunt Sue has shared (probably rambled) the same story for the fifteenth time, make her feel as if it is the first. When we make her the star of the show for just one day, we uplift and encourage her in ways that no one has in a long time.
  7. Feed encouragement. We’re fragile. A blessed word makes hearts soar.
  8. Feed forgiveness. This is the year. Many of us have carried bitterness especially over disagreements about the last nineteen months. Lay our heaviness at His feet and let Him carry it. Extend forgiveness; experience freedom.
  9. Feed hospitality. Loneliness and isolation thrive. Be that solution for one person this month. Open your door, welcome the stranger, save a seat at your table, and extend the gift of your invitation. In doing so, you ease their burden as you share Christ’s love.

When the turkey is gone and the mashed potatoes are cold, all that is left are the shared moments and memories of doing life together. I want to make the most of them, don’t you?

My little note card on my fridge reminds me, Feed them. Won’t you join me and jot down the same?

When God Doesn’t Fit into Our Boxes or Compartments

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My most treasured college graduation gift is a beautifully restored antique card catalog that I received from my parents.

They hid it under flowered bedsheets in our garage until graduation day when they led me by hand to the dark corner of the garage and pulled the sheet from the top with the same fanfare as a magician yanking a tablecloth from a perfectly set table.

“Ta-da!” they yelled, and I screamed in delight.

It had everything I’d ever wanted. Sturdy legs. Gorgeous brass pulls. Fifty-four identical drawers divided into six columns like soldiers standing at attention.

I immediately began imagining all of the miscellaneous items I’d organize, sort, and store in the generous compartments once my new treasure and I moved into our first home. Batteries. Pens. Light bulbs. Craft supplies. The possibilities were endless.

My card catalog was the first thing I thought of during a corporate training event when the career coach asked us to name the one inanimate object that we most valued in our lives.

My hand shot up. “That’s easy. Mine is an antique card catalog I received from parents,” I shared with the affection of a new mother describing her firstborn.

“Interesting,” she said. “You must not like surprises.”

I disagreed, “No. I love surprises. My card catalog was a surprise.”

“I don’t mean surprises as gifts. I mean surprises in life.”

I’d never considered that before.

She elaborated, “A card catalog is something that helps create order from chaos. It keeps things predictable instead of surprising. A place for everything and everything in its place. I would guess that your ultimate goal is to have your life as well organized as you have your card catalog.”

I’d never realized my general disdain for the unknown until that day, and I’m still amazed at how much my card catalog still mirrors my insecurities regarding all of life’s many surprises.

In my twenties, when everyone was getting married before me and all I had were bridesmaid dresses lining up in my closet, I longed for the predictable patterns of my expectations to manifest themselves.

Okay, God, I have my degree and my career. Next on the list is marriage and family. Why aren’t You sticking to the agenda?

In my thirties, when I finally did marry a godly man but suffered devastating miscarriages in our journey to complete our family, I wished for a supernatural card catalog drawer I could open at will to find comfort for my broken heart.

Okay, God, this isn’t the way things are supposed to unfold. I don’t know where to file this pain and grief.

In my forties, when I was blindsided by unemployment and faced financial and professional struggles I was not prepared to handle, I prayed that God would connect the dots with abundant provisions and easy answers.

This wasn’t the plan, God. I don’t have room for this surprise setback in the order I’ve created. Why are You cluttering my life with so many obstacles?

We may never have the audacity to demand that God execute the details of our lives’ agendas, but how often does our disappointment reflect that very expectation?

On one hand, I’ve learned that many of God’s greatest blessings come from those surprising moments of struggle and tension.

But on the other hand, I’m still taking those moments, walking to my trusty old card catalog, and trying to stuff them neatly into one of my fifty-four prearranged compartments.

When will I learn that God doesn’t fit into any of my boxes? 

He can’t be labeled. He can’t be filed. He can’t be organized, explained, or predicted.

The prophet Isaiah reminds us of this in Isaiah 55, but I always seem to forget.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
Isaiah 55:8-9 (NIV)

I may wrestle with God’s surprises for the rest of my life, but I’m slowly understanding the joy of worshiping a God that doesn’t fit into my boxes, drawers, or compartments.

His provisions are more abundant than our most pressing needs. His blessings are greater than our most active imaginations. His goals are loftier than our most ambitious intentions.

Now, when I look at my card catalog, I no longer feel disappointment that God refuses to confine Himself to my small-minded parameters. Instead, I feel relieved because His ways always prove to be so much better.

And I can’t wait for the next surprise.

This article was originally written by Emily E. Ryan for (in)courage in August 2019.

When We Share the Same Space Face-to-Face

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“Do you want to go to church this morning?”

My husband looked at me over a steaming mug of coffee, still in his pajamas and with a bit of bedhead to complete his comfortable look.

The truth was I looked much the same. Our youngest three kids — the ones still living at home — were still in bed after staying up a little too late the night before. I didn’t mind. I savored these quiet, uninterrupted early morning moments on the family room sofa with my husband.

He looked at me, waiting for my answer. It shouldn’t have been difficult to give him one. From the time I was less than a year old, Sundays have been church days. Up until 2020, I could count on my two hands the number of weeks when I wasn’t in a church.

But then a global pandemic, followed by fear and uncertainty. Then, the doors of restaurants, schools, and churches closed, sealing our isolation. What we thought would be a few weeks turned into a few months and then more than a year. And before I knew it, my lifelong Sunday church practice turned into a new habit:

Watching church rather than going to one.

Before I go any further, I think it’s important to clarify a few things. First, I’m deeply grateful that I live in a time when it’s possible to worship with others who love Jesus whether they live on the other side of town or the other side of the world. From March 2020 until now, the internet and the extraordinary talents of individuals made it possible for my family to weekly listen to pastors teach from God’s Word and to sing in our family room together without putting our health at risk.

Second, church doesn’t require a building, nor does it only count on Sundays. In fact, a perfect church attendance record is neither a badge of honor nor a means of salvation. You and I don’t need to cross the threshold of a steepled church building every Sunday to keep God from getting angry or to secure His love. “Nothing can separate you from the love of God,” Romans 8 states. And that includes church on a Wednesday or no church building at all.

And yet, there is something about being a part of a Jesus-loving community that is important. And I’m learning, after months of attending church on a sixty-inch television screen, that although the internet can deliver good preaching and inspiring music, it can’t deliver the same connection and relationship that happens when you and I share the same space face-to-face. And isn’t that what church is all about anyway?

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another — and all the more as you see the Day approaching.
Hebrews 10:23-25 (NIV)

It’s now been many months since our church reopened its doors. And although we’ve attended in person several times, too often we opt for the ease and comfort of church in our family room. And today I feel the gentle conviction of the Spirit.

Perhaps what we need most right now is not more “ease” or the comfort of home but the irreplaceable gift of community — something we’ve not had nearly enough of in the last eighteen months. And something that is going to require a measure of intentionality to reconnect with. It requires effort to build a new habit.

You may have any one of a number of good reasons to attend church from your family room. Some of you are bedridden or housebound. Others of you are caregivers or lack transportation. My words are not an attempt to deliver shame or guilt. I celebrate with you that the gospel is now more accessible than it’s ever been. In so many ways, it is an extraordinary gift.

But for those of us who have slipped into a habit of checking church off our list in the easiest way possible, maybe now is a good time to remember why church came about in the first place:

We were never meant to walk this life of faith alone. We need each other. And whether we gather in a building, a house, or over the internet, church must be more than something we watch. We need it to be a relationship we share — with Jesus and each other.

All the more as we see the Day approaching.

How’s Your Soul When You Shop?

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I was at Michaels, standing in the middle of the aisle with seasonal home goods that were marked with red tags, when a holy voice from heaven sounded, booming loud into my chest, saying,

Get the thing, you need the thing. It’s everything you ever wanted, and it’s on sale. Get the thing!

I pulled my hand away from the shelf and stopped caressing the wooden signs and flower wreath. I paused and stood there in that moment. There was no booming voice from heaven. God did not tell me to get the thing. It was my own wishful, wanting heart — I told me to get the thing.

Never has it ever been promised that we would have every beautiful thing that makes our hearts flutter and our homes perfect. Never has it ever been said that we should shop and buy and Amazon Prime all the things, even if they are on sale.

Not that shopping at Target makes us transgressors; we do not suddenly become sinners if we run up receipts at Stop and Shop. But when buying all the things turns into something we do to fill the holes in our hearts, there lies within us an invitation to explore:

Do we reach for the rack of clothes because we need something that fits or because we want to fit in with every fashion trend on Instagram? Do we need the tenth version of that cell phone because it’s really broken beyond repair or because we absolutely, positively have to have it? Do we Amazon Prime all the things to the front door because we need to or simply because we want, want, want?

These are the thoughts we don’t like pressing into because we like the thoughts we already have. We like hearing, Get the thing. You need the thing. But if we don’t allow God’s Spirit to rise up in us, we will never fully do and be the things that He is calling us to when it comes to spending money and shopping, especially when it comes to joining Him in His kingdom work.

We can let God’s thoughts, His truths, sing over us while we are at the stores and scrolling shops online. His voice, if we let it, can speak contentment and discernment right into us. He calls us out and presses every heart to ponder.

I can’t help but think of the man from Mark 10:17, who ran and fell to his knees before Jesus, desperately asking, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus spoke right to the soul of the man and told him to go and sell all the things, to sell every possession and to give to the poor. But the man grieved to hear Jesus say this. “His face fell,” the gospel tells us. Sucker-punched right to the soul, he went from a certain kind of eager desperation, to shattered and sorrowful. And he walked away.

So many times I have read that passage and compared myself to the man thinking, I would have sold my possessions and followed Jesus; I would have given everything I had to the poor. But I’ve come to realize that Jesus’ point goes beyond the mere giving and selling of stuff. It’s really about how we react and respond when God puts His finger on those unyielding places in our hearts.

Do we frown and pout and back ourselves out of the conversation when we sense Him whispering that we don’t need the pretty pillow, even if it really is hand-stitched by Joanna Gaines herself? When it comes down to it, do we really need clocks and crates in every corner for someone to “feel” the peace of God in our homes? Do we need suede sandals in every color and ten wide-rimmed hats to feel breathtaking and beautiful? Or will we take Him at His word when He says we really are wonderfully made?

When your hand reaches for the shelf with the home goods marked with red tags, ask yourself: What is my heart reaching for? What is my soul seeking out?

And don’t check yourself against all of the right things that you are doing — that holy to-do list of reading the Bible, streaming worship, and reposting every graphic with God’s name on it. Check yourself against how you respond when Jesus speaks the words into your soul: You don’t need that thing right now, daughter. Do you swell with wonder, dreaming up the ways God could instead use your money, your resources, your knack for creatively curating beautiful things for the mission of His kingdom? Or do you walk away grieved with your face fallen?

How is your heart when you spend, sister? How is your soul when you shop?