Episode 16: Giving From Our Lack

Episode 16: Giving From Our Lack

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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, we have a special treat — Becky Keife, Courageous Kindness author, joins us! She talks with fellow (in)courage team member Anna about Week 2 of the Courageous Kindness Bible study, and they discuss a couple of times when someone gave something small, yet it made a big impact on their day, or even their life. They talk about the ministry of coffee, what happened when a whole crowd forgot their lunches, and then they visit a story in Mark 12 where Jesus points out to His disciples that an offering from a poor widow has schooled the rich.

You’ll also hear an excerpt of the Bible study 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! Get your copy of the Courageous Kindness Bible study from DaySpring.com, and be sure and subscribe to the (in)courage podcast so you don’t miss a single episode!

Feeding Someone Is Synonymous with Loving Them

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My son climbed into the van after school without his usual pep, his little second-grade shoulders hunched over like an old man. His mask concealed two-thirds of his face, but his eyes told the whole story: He was tired, hungry, and he needed some love. 

“Do you want some jook when we get home?” I asked.

He whimpered a yes, settled into his seat, and buckled up.

Jook is Korean rice porridge, a dish often made to warm the belly — on cold days, on sick days, on “I don’t know why I feel this way” kind of days. It’s comfort food made a hundred different ways depending on who made it for you growing up. 

I grew up eating plain jook when I was sick. My mom or grandma would boil cooked white rice with water in a pot until the rice became soft enough to eat without much effort. They’d drizzle a little soy sauce on top to flavor it — but only just enough to make it taste like something instead of nothing. 

I never enjoyed it. It was bland, and I associated it with being sick. It had never been comfort food for me; it was necessary food I had to eat to take medicine and get better. 

But several years ago, I tasted jook I didn’t want to stop eating. It had been made by the church ladies where my in-laws attend, and she’d brought home leftovers. The jook had finely diced pieces of carrots and zucchini and hand-broken pieces of mung bean sprouts. It was savory, comforting, and it felt like love — the love of generations of mothers and grandmothers, of all the hands who care for and express love the only way they know how. Through food. By asking, “Have you eaten?”

On Sunday, I held a neatly packaged plastic communion cup with the accompanying wafer in my hand and listened as our pastor led us in a time of reflection and remembrance. The familiar words wafted in and out of my head, and I thought of my son’s face that day as he ate the jook. He took small spoonfuls of the rice porridge, speckled with flecks of orange and green and bulked with chunks of chicken, and slowly savored each bite until the whole bowl was all gone. Then he asked for more.

I smiled remembering his contentment and the quickness with which he felt better afterwards. And I wondered, Is this why Jesus left us with the practice of communion to remember Him by? Was this His way of asking us, “Have you eaten?” and feeding our souls?

I peeled back the plastic and held the beige wafer in my hand. Instead of imagining Jesus on the cross as I usually do, I thought about Jesus at the table, surrounded by His friends, His disciples. I envisioned His hands holding the loaf of bread and tearing it into pieces to share with each person. I broke the wafer into two, placed it on my tongue, and in its blandness, I recalled the plain jook I was fed by my mother’s and grandmother’s hands. In one moment, I recognized the love of God and my ancestors, my spiritual and familial heritage, present with me.

Have you eaten? God asked me. And I admitted that I had gone hungry for too long, that I had accepted hunger as enough to survive when I could’ve fed on His abundance. I wasn’t shamed for not coming to His table sooner; I was invited to come and eat, now that I saw clearly.

If food is love and feeding someone is synonymous with loving them, then communion is the expression of God’s love for us — a reminder that it’s always accessible, always filling. And we can always ask for more because it never ends. 

So, now, I ask you, friend: Have you eaten?

Oh, to Be Kept by Jesus

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The email came from a kind stranger. She’d devoured my new historical mystery, All That Is Secret, enjoyed it a lot, and made a request: Could she interview me for her lovely blog? Honored when anyone wants to ask about my writing, I eagerly replied yes and worked my way down her list of questions, answering each one with detailed care.

On the last page, however, came the most important question of all: What is your book’s takeaway? Its one key message for readers?

I looked at the question and squirmed. An editor at another blog had just asked me the same question. It’s a question that a “real” novelist could answer at the drop of her hat. But this novel was my first fiction, and with All That Is Secret, I harbored my own secret — that, in truth, I didn’t know the takeaway when I started writing it.

I was just excited to be writing my own mystery, finding it thrilling and amazing and fun, especially for me — a writer of devotionals and nonfiction books and articles. New to the mystery “game,” I longed to write a riveting puzzle, making it intriguing for mystery fans, new and old, to enjoy.

Also, to be honest, as a woman of color, I wanted to write a lead character who loves Jesus and who is Black like me, navigating a setting I understand (Colorado), during an era I’d heard about my entire life — the 1920s when Colorado was ruled by the Klan.

This mix of faith and race often ends up in my writing. Some readers don’t like that, arguing the topic of race has no place in devotionals or serious books about our faith. Eager to leave that fight, I decided to try writing a novel — to bring excitement, romance, history, and page-turning intrigue to a story of faith and race, but not call it that. So, I’d give myself a break. My readers, too.

Excited about this new form of writing, I hadn’t seen the most obvious spiritual truth that God, in His Holy Spirit, had built into my story — using someone like me to write the takeaway that I needed perhaps the most:

God is our Keeper, so we’re never alone.

Sure, I’d sweated to develop my tale about a young theologian — a fan of Sherlock Holmes — who answers a cryptic telegram, leaving her frustrating teaching job, to return home to Denver to solve the murder of her beloved but estranged father. But her takeaway, for us?

Even when we try to “take a break” from our life problems, turning even to a different ministry to write a new life chapter, God still leaves a pearl hidden deep in our plot. I’d written the book as an escape from my life’s troubles and tensions. But as I dug deep to find the answer to my interviewer’s question, I was stunned to discover the truth the Lord Himself had written into the heart of it:

I’ll never leave you. So, with Me, you’re never alone.

As the Lord told Jacob of the Bible: “I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go” (Genesis 28:15).

Will my lead character learn that for herself? I won’t spoil it by revealing if or how. But as I contemplate my story’s takeaway, I almost tremble at the miracle of it. I’d thought I’d written my novel. My name is on the book cover. But God wrote it first.

Even as I struggled, early on, to convince people to read a Christian mystery — including fellow believers — the Lord was keeping me, drawing even unbelievers to my humble story, watching over me and keeping me just as He watches over and keeps you, too.

Oh, to be kept by Him, indeed, even when we don’t see that He is always there. A hymn declares that truth. But even before that song was written, He was singing over us, keeping us, often before we knew He was with us.

I didn’t plan to show this truth in my novel, but it was written into it nonetheless. Only God could pour such grace and love into a first-time novelist’s humble effort — but also into our lives. The Lord is faithful to keep us, writing our story one page at a time. May we dare to surrender our story to Him, following in His keeping love and power.

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All That Is Secret from award-winning author and (in)courage contributor Patricia Raybon has been picked as a best in its category by Parade Magazine, Woman’s World Magazine, CrimeReads website, BookBub, even Masterpiece | PBS, which named it one of seven “Best Mystery Books of 2021” as recommended by selected bestselling authors.

We’re excited to give away FIVE copies of All That Is Secret! Just leave a comment telling us what it means to you that God is our keeper.

And join Patricia and Becky Keife tomorrow, 11/10, at 11:00am central on Facebook for a conversation about All That is Secret!

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes on 11/12/21 at 11:59pm central. Winners will be contacted via email.

Empowered to Use Exactly What You Have

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Time for Bible Study Mondays! 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 2, which empowers you to use exactly what you have — even if it doesn’t seem like enough.

Reading Assignment

This week, read Week 2: Exactly What You Have, on pages 49-83 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 Two (and find all the weekly videos here):

Quote of the Week

Keep this quote in mind as you read Week 2:

We’re responsible for giving what we have; God is responsible for the difference it makes. 

– 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:

  • What stands out to you as you study the feeding of the five thousand?
  • When have you seen God use your small or seemingly inadequate offering to meet a specific need?

Let’s Pray Together

Jesus, thank You for showing us what it looks like to have a posture of expectant gratitude. Like the boy who gave his little lunch for the good of those around him, help me see opportunities this week to give what I have, no matter how small, and trust You to multiply it. I’m ready to see Your glory! 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 them all here!)

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

No Matter What Anyone Says, Your Faith Isn’t Too Small

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The average woman is born with two million eggs, a staggering number when you consider each one has the potential to become a human being with freckles and eyelashes, elbows and knee caps. A fertilized egg is the thickness of a strand of hair, an infinitely fragile wisp that will mysteriously multiply and grow into a life.

For almost a decade I hoped and prayed that one of those two million eggs would become a son or daughter. But month after month I saw single lines on pregnancy tests, not much thicker than a strand of hair. Well-meaning people tried to comfort me. They did so with hugs and kindness, with the occasional card or even casserole. Most had the grace simply to wait patiently with me. Others, in their desire to help, tried to suggest there was something I must do in order to make this miracle happen. Some implied that perhaps I needed more faith.

This subtle assertion always stung. In my head I knew that “faith equals baby” wasn’t an equation that made any sense. But on the hardest days my anxious heart felt tempted to believe it because doing so might mean I could at least have some control over the outcome of my infertility.

I found myself understanding the apostles when they asked, “Why couldn’t we . . . ?” about a particular miracle they wanted but could not make happen (Matthew 17:19). Jesus responds, “You don’t have enough faith. I tell you the truth, if you had faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it would move. Nothing would be impossible” (Matthew 17:20).

Mustard seeds are tiny too, like little grains of sand. Some people interpret this passage to mean our Savior is telling us, “You need to grow your faith!” But if this is so, why not use something big as the metaphor? Why not tell us to have faith as big as the ocean, as high as the sky? When Jesus says the apostles only need faith like a mustard seed, the tiniest of all, it seems clear to me He’s expressing, “Size is not the problem.”

I think the point Jesus is trying to help us understand is that we can never have enough faith to make anything happen. As Leigh Sain writes, “The size of our faith isn’t what makes the mountain move. The size of our God is.” To tell anyone their faith is the controlling factor in a situation is to put them in the place of God.

Having faith also doesn’t mean things will turn out the way we want. Jesus Himself prayed for the cup of suffering to pass from Him but still went to the cross. His mother prayed one of the most beautiful prayers in all of Scripture and watched her beloved son die. I never did have a physical child.

But God also resurrected Jesus. He sustained Mary. In my story, He made me a woman who births books. He unexpectedly brought a daughter into our lives when she was twenty years old, and now I’m also a Nana of two. He created a family for me that is tied together not by human blood but by His. He healed my heart in ways I never thought possible. This happened over many years. It included aching and anger, loss and tears. It also led me to believe, deep into my bones, that faith isn’t ever about a result; it’s always about a relationship.

Let’s never allow anyone to convince us our faith isn’t big enough, that if we can only increase it then all we want will be ours. Instead, let’s wholly put our faith in a God who is bigger, stronger, and more loving than we could ever imagine or measure. As Stephanie Bryant says, “No matter how ugly it gets or if your faith grows tinier than a mustard seed, He is right there with you. Jesus is holding your right hand. He’s holding you up. Carrying you through this hard time.”

God, it can be tempting to believe that somehow having enough faith will mean our desires are going to be granted. But You never tell us this is true. What You do assure us of is that we can always put our faith, trust, and hope fully in You. We do. Amen. 

What have you been taught about faith? What’s a truth you’ll remember from today’s post next time a prayer isn’t answered the way you want?

 

Are you looking for an encouraging gift to share with the people in your life this Christmas season? Holley Gerth’s new devotional book, What Your Soul Needs for Stressful Times: 60 Powerful Truths to Protect Your Peace, will bless everyone on your list this year.

How We Can Best Handle a World That Feels Like Too Much

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Is the world still feeling uncertain to you? Did you, like me, think we’d be back to “normal” by now – when COVID numbers began to decline, once we had a vaccine for the virus, as churches and businesses began to open up again? Years ago, Patsy Clairmont wrote Normal is Just a Setting on Your Dryer, and that sentiment is as spot on as ever. Everything’s fine when I’m with family or friends, but if I scroll social media or read the news, I find myself wondering how we’ve lost our way so badly.

On one hand, it’s November! It’s a month that brings with it autumn’s incredible beauty, crisp, clear skies, cozy sweaters, college football, and pumpkin-spiced, well, everything. It’s a lovely season for expressing our gratitude, counting blessings, and gathering family and friends.

On the other hand, it feels like we’re a culture in chaos with circumstances out of control. COVID changed the way we live. The state of politics in our country seems like two parties have been dropped into a centrifuge, then spun and slung to their extremes. It’s so loud at those edges that all the noise seems to be rendering people deaf from any opinion that doesn’t already align with their own.

What are we to do when our world no longer makes sense? What are those who follow Jesus to do?

I believe an old refrain holds the key:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

A while back, I had the sweet privilege of serving women in my area as a leader for a community Bible study, and every Thursday before our class met, the leadership team arrived early to pray, go over announcements, and walk through the day’s lesson. But before any of that took place, we began by singing this familiar chorus.

Tendering our hearts in song was effective. The things of earth – never-ending to-do lists, looming work deadlines, disagreements among friends, challenges with children, an argument with our spouses, health concerns, financial pressures, the chatter and clatter of politics, even some of our anxieties and feeling not enough – grow strangely dim.

The worries of the world wither under the blaze of God’s glory. When Jesus becomes our primary concern, everything else becomes secondary.

We see a perfect demonstration of this in Matthew 14 in an exchange between Jesus and Peter, His beloved friend and one of the twelve disciples. Following a miracle feast, Jesus sends His disciples ahead of Him by boat while He retreats to a mountain to pray. By the time Jesus travels to catch up with them, they are already a good ways out, their boat beaten and battered by the wind and waves.

In this familiar account, Jesus makes His way toward them by walking on water. (Can we please take a moment to marvel at this together? Let’s not allow familiarity to dull us to the wonder of a miracle!) Jesus quickly identifies Himself and offers assurance to His terrified friends. Then, in a bold gesture, Peter asks to join Him. Jesus’s response?

“Come.”

If this story is new to you, Peter starts off just fine. He’s fully focused on Jesus. But the second Peter’s attention shifts from Jesus to his circumstances, fear creeps in and he begins to sink. Immediately, Peter calls out to Jesus to save him, and immediately, Jesus does.

Think how this plays out in your own life. Are the “winds” of the world swirling in your mind and carrying you out in a sea of anxiety, disappointment, or despair? Turn your eyes upon Jesus.

Do you worry that circumstances are simmering and seething and have finally reached a boiling point (personally or otherwise)? Turn your eyes upon Jesus.

When we focus on Jesus instead of circumstances, our circumstances may not change, but we sure do.

This calls to mind what we read in Romans 12:2 in the New Living Translation:

Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world,
but let God transform you into a new person
by changing the way you think.
Then you will learn to know God’s will for you,
which is good and pleasing and perfect.

Transformation is accomplished by first changing the way we think.

I know what it’s like to wander around and feel lost, to wrestle in a sea of doubt, to question beliefs you once held dear. And while I don’t know what’s going on with you personally, I know all of us are affected by what’s going on in the world.

How can we possibly handle it? We can’t. We aren’t even supposed to — that’s why we have a Savior! Isn’t this liberating?

Since we’re forgetters, let’s remind one another that the gospel is good news. When we are mindful of who God is and what He has already accomplished in our lives and in our world, when we trust that He is good and loves us without condition, when we study His Word, claim His promises, and accept the forgiveness He offers, when we believe that He actually holds the whole world in His hands, when we turn our eyes upon Jesus, we will find peace.

To me, focusing on Jesus isn’t just one way we can best handle a world that feels crazy. It’s the only way.

When the Lies Start Shouting, Keep Your Eyes on the Cross

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I was lonely. The feeling ached within me, sharp and pulsating, like a rusty knife twisting my flesh. I was tired of being single and tired of feeling left behind, like the lives of my friends left me trailing in the dust. I saw the stories people posted on Instagram — photos of fresh new babies and wedding plans. I knew two things deep within me: first, Instagram never tells the whole story, and second, God’s timing for my life is far better than mine. But still, I was lonely. 

It was 11:30 at night on a Monday. I was still working in a major city, but I lived in a small village an hour and a half away. It was at night when I drove home when the worries would come. It was often in this long stretch of time — after I’d worked a busy shift and was tired — when my defenses were lowered. It was when the fear snuck in. It was when shame whispered lie after lie as I watched the city lights sink further behind me in my rearview window. 

On that particular night, I was feeling rejected, defeated, and left behind. I couldn’t help but wonder if God had forgotten me. Could He see me? Did He know how lonely I was? 

As I drove, I heard a loop play over in my head. 

You’re just not lovable. That’s gotta be the truth. Maybe there’s something wrong with you. Something off. Maybe you’re just not lovable.

I was angry at the loop of lies flinging through my mind, and I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. I was irritated. It was too late for this. I couldn’t fight them. The more I heard the lies, the more I kept wondering if maybe they held a sliver or two of truth. 

Suddenly my gas light appeared, signaling I needed more fuel. I was in the middle of the highway after midnight and my gas was almost gone.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. I wasn’t very close to home, so I found a spot to pull off and looked for a gas station with cheaper fuel. 

I pulled over, popped the gas cap, grabbed my wallet, and got out of the car. I punched in my debit pin, unhooked the plug, and shoved in the nozzle.

All the while, I couldn’t get the lies out of my head. 

Maybe you’re just not lovable. 

Tears threatened to spill. I wiped my eyes angrily. I didn’t want to be in this place. I wanted to be content. I wanted to be grateful. I wanted to trust that God has great plans for me, whether or not they included a good relationship or marriage or a baby. 

I want to trust and believe in the goodness of God, but sometimes the lies are so loud. 

I heard the gas glug glug glug as it began to fill my tank, and I looked up into the night sky. Everything was black, except for what landed right in front of my vision. 

There, on a hill going up the escarpment, was a bright, shining lit-up cross. I knew the cross immediately. It’s been lighting up this area since 1966. It was built to shine over the city.

Even though I knew that cross has been lit up every night for years, at that moment, it was just for me. I think God does that sometimes. He takes the ordinary everyday things and turns it into the divine, as a way to fuse His love into our very being. 

I couldn’t take my eyes off that huge, brilliantly lit cross. I stared at it and heard God speak to me, deep within my heart. 

Unlovable? Look at the cross. I died because I love you that much. 

Tears fell. I returned the nozzle, capped the gas cap, and slid into my car. I couldn’t stop staring at the cross.

Jesus, who was rejected and despised by so many, died for me. The God who made the entire world put skin on, took my sin and my shame upon His very being, and died for me. King Jesus loves me. It’s the foundation of my faith, and yet I forget it so often. 

I drove home, meditating on the love Jesus has for me. I can’t be unlovable because He died on that cross for me. He showed me the very essence of love.

When the lies start shouting, I’ll keep my eyes on the cross. 

When shame threatens to unravel me, I’ll keep my eyes on the cross. 

When I can’t understand the plans God has for me, I’ll keep my eyes on the cross. 

Look up. Can you feel it? The love He has for you pulsing and beating and bleeding? Keep your eyes on the cross. 

When Anger Gives Way to Grief

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“I just can’t even get mad anymore.” I was telling a friend about something I’d seen, and while normally it would have made me furious, this time I just felt sad.

Earlier that evening, I’d found myself sitting in an auditorium in shock. Eyes wide and heart pounding, my head swiveled back and forth, searching the dark room for someone else — anyone else — who’d noticed what was happening in front of us. I didn’t find anyone. Later, when I asked the friends I’d been sitting with if they thought perhaps what had happened was wrong or, at the very least, in bad taste, they shrugged and changed the subject. And my heart ached, heavy with grief.

I was confused. Why did the events of that evening make me feel like crying myself to sleep instead of waving my arms in protest and rage?

I’d seen something blatantly racist take place that night, the kind of thing that, while it did not hurt anyone physically, was absolutely offensive and harmful. Our words and actions have that power, and this was an instance where that power had been misused. When nobody around me seemed to notice or care, I was disappointed. And I was sad that it had happened in the first place, sad that it was so easily accepted by those around me. But unlike every other time I’d read or heard about racial injustice or on the occasions I’d witnessed it firsthand, I didn’t feel angry.

I’m an Enneagram One, which I’ve learned means that anger is the emotion that motivates me most. I wouldn’t call myself an angry person, but I’m well-acquainted with anger all the same. So as I talked with my friend about what had happened, I was surprised and a little confused to realize I just could not stay mad. After all, if I’m allowed to have a favorite anger, righteous anger is absolutely it. Yet, when I told my friend I only felt weary and not angry, I knew it was true.

As I described my feelings, I felt disoriented and ashamed. Why wasn’t I mad this time? How many times had I liked and shared memes that said, “If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention”? Yes!, I’d cried, nodding my head and cheering. We need to get mad and be mad and stay mad! Being mad is the only way things will finally change! This revolutionary spirit is one I’ve always had, and it’s felt comfortable in recent years as our world has grappled with so many issues and so much desire for change.

But while my anger has come from a holy place, burning with indignation when God’s children are mistreated and harmed, I’m beginning to realize that anger was just the first layer and perhaps even a symptom of what was going on below the surface. As my rage has given way to grief, I’m starting to understand that sadness is really at the root of my reactions. What happened that night was not an isolated incident. It felt like, Here we go again and Guess we haven’t learned after all, and I suppose that’s where my emotional exhaustion came from. While racial injustice makes me so mad, I’m even more sad that this kind of thing happened and that it happens so often.

Jesus flipped tables, but He also wept with a mix of emotions (John 11:33-35). Feeling sad isn’t less righteous or valuable than feeling mad. Every emotion we have was created by God and can be used by Him — and healed by Him too. For example, because my mind wasn’t clouded with righteous rage that night, I was able to calmly write a letter expressing my concerns about what had happened. That letter led to an open, productive conversation that, I hope, will influence what happens in the future. And when I did go to sleep that night, I didn’t cry anymore but felt peace that God had been with me and was with those who may have been hurt by the evening’s incident.

How about you? Are you sad today? Weary or worried? Perhaps so angry you can’t think straight or maybe frozen with fear? Are you cautiously hopeful or overflowing with joy? Or, like many of us on many days, are you some combination of these or any other emotions?

Friend, you are not alone. God is with the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18), and He’s with the angry, the worried, the scared, the joyful, the hopeful, and the anxious.

Feelings are fickle, complicated, and constantly changing, but God is faithful. He will meet you wherever you are and however you feel. He will work in you, healing your heart and soul, and He’ll work through you using those very emotions swirling around your heart and mind. When we love the Lord our God with all our heart and soul and mind, He doesn’t ignore that heart or soul or mind just because what’s going on inside is conflicting or confusing. And He doesn’t leave us alone to figure it out or deal with our emotions alone.

Our heavenly Father is here, waiting to take that burden from us, heal our weary hearts, and show us how to use all our feelings as fuel for loving Him and loving others.

God Shows Up in Every Moment and Says, “I’m In.”

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I wouldn’t say that I’m an overly stubborn person, but I found myself digging in and not wanting to budge. After months of loss and grief and job searching, I sat across from my counselor and we were both at a loss of ideas. I was doing everything that I could to find work and going above and beyond in the process. Not only was I sending my resume but I was designing entire webpages making the argument of why I was the girl for the job. Winter was setting in, and I was tired of looking for silver linings. My tired eyes didn’t have the wherewithal to search for them for a moment.

I knew deep down that what I wanted to do was get very angry with Jesus because I knew that He could — if He felt like it for a moment, He could make something happen. He could drop some sort of miraculous connection that would lend itself to actual work. And He had. I was getting this string of little freelance gigs that allowed me to buy groceries, but nothing was an actual consistent job. I was fed up and ready to give Him a piece of my mind.

“Okay. Here’s what I need to know,” I said to my therapist. “What do you tell couples when one of them just doesn’t want to be all-in anymore?”

For the record, I am single and have never been married. But for years I have seen my relationship with Jesus as a covenant that is taken more seriously than any other, so the concept makes sense in my head. If I was married and was disappointed in and angry with my husband because he wasn’t meeting my expectations but he hadn’t done anything wrong, what would be the next step? God had provided for me thus far and He’s not a genie, but I desperately wanted Him to be. I wanted Him to make sure I was so comfortable and didn’t have any lack. But that’s not how things work. So I asked the licensed marriage and family therapist what to do.

She was surprised at first, having a single woman ask for marriage advice. But then she said this: “I would tell them to remember what brought them together in the first place. To pay attention to days that weren’t so dark — not to pretend everything is fine but to remember that the darkness doesn’t define the entire relationship.” And then, she said, “It’s important to keep welcoming them in rather than pushing them away. Even when it feels uncomfortable or easier to just deal with it alone. We have to show up and say, ‘I’m in.'”

Psalm 117:2 says, “For His lovingkindness is great toward us, and the truth of the Lord is everlasting.”

God’s love for us is not passive nor shallow. That word, “lovingkindness,” is translated in Hebrew as a covenantal love that God makes. It is not fickle or fragile but is a committed and eternal love. And if I am living this life with a God like that, it’s something worth fighting for, even in counseling.

All of the relationships that we face are going to be flawed in some way. Either the other person will let us down or hurt us, or we’re going to do that. We cannot pretend that relationships don’t take work. While Jesus brings perfect love and kindness and mercy to the table, He’s also doing it knowing we’re broken humans who get fussy and frustrated. And here’s the wild part: He willingly and with great fervor comes after us and delights in us. Jesus isn’t shocked and disgusted watching us not trust Him. Rather, He shows up, moment after moment, ready to keep moving forward with us to the very end.

There are days I need to walk in faith that He really is close and He really is for my good. But when I reflect on how He has carried me and I see the ways His character reveals that He’s actually here to stay? I am reminded that this whole faith thing — just like anything worth pursuing — isn’t about having a perfect, Instagrammable relationship. It’s about living out a covenant that He joyfully enters into, not out of obligation but because He really meant it when He said, “I’m in.”

Episode 15: Courageous Kindness, Right Where You Are

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Welcome back to the (in)courage podcast! In true (in)courage style today, we’ve got some stories to tell and some real life to talk through. Join us as we build community, celebrate diversity, and become women of courage.

This season, (in)courage and DaySpring team members Anna and Joy talk their way through the Courageous Kindness Bible study. Each week, you’ll hear their stories and conversations, along with an excerpt of the Bible study read by author Becky Keife. Also, every episode features 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! Get your copy of the Courageous Kindness Bible study from DaySpring.com, and be sure and subscribe to the (in)courage podcast so you don’t miss a single episode!

How Retelling Our Stories Can Bring Healing

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My middle daughter slathered melted butter on layer after layer of paper-thin phyllo dough for the baklava. Her arms moved methodically back and forth. Every six layers, she sprinkled cinnamon, sugar, and walnuts over the pastry like stardust. Meanwhile, my oldest daughter chopped bell peppers at the island next to her sister. I added the peppers to skewers with big chunks of marinated beef and onions for the kebabs. My youngest daughter laid out the homemade hummus, pita crackers, lahmajoon pizzas, and other appetizers on charcuterie boards. The kitchen was filled with a cornucopia of smells, flavors, and colors colliding as we prepped for the Heaveniversary party together.

This year marked seven years since my husband Ericlee graduated to heaven. Some might call September 9 his death day, but we decided to make it a day to remember the gift of heaven and celebrate his legacy. We’ve made it our tradition to host a dinner party where we tell stories and gather around good food. Every year I invite a different mix of family and friends. In some cases, this is the only time of year we see some of my late husband’s friends because our lives have moved in different directions. 

This year — more than other years — my daughters took ownership of planning the party. We decided together to serve up Armenian food because my husband’s grandma was originally from Armenia. We talked through the guest list because they wanted to hear a diversity of stories from their dad’s childhood, school days, and adult life. My oldest put together a slideshow of pictures, and my youngest wrote and rehearsed a song for weeks to share at the gathering. It turned into a whole family affair.

Then, all at once, the doorbell rang, and family and friends started to pour in through the door. I realized I was actually looking forward to our time together instead of dreading a day that might otherwise be filled with sadness.

After our bellies were full, we gathered in our living room for a time of storytelling. One by one, friends and family began to unfold memories of my late husband Ericlee and his legacy of faith, courage, wellness, compassion, and generosity.

His best friend told a story about the time they shared a full Thanksgiving meal in my husband’s dorm, and then he insisted on sharing the leftovers with the homeless in their city. Another high school friend shared about how my husband always asked the hard questions and checked in about her relationship with God. A friend talked about how he was an encouraging coach and helped her get to the finish line of a half marathon.

My daughters were two, five, and eight when their daddy went to heaven. These stories — some of them repeated year after year — serve as their memory. The stories draw us close to Ericlee and help keep his legacy alive.

Remembrance is an important theme throughout the Bible. In the Old Testament, the Israelites remember God’s faithfulness at many key crossroads. Throughout the book of Deuteronomy, there is a call to remember the words and deeds of God. Deuteronomy 16:1-8 describes the Festival of Passover. The exodus and deliverance of Israel by God from Egypt is central to this remembering.

Jesus celebrated the Passover with His disciples and other Jews throughout the New Testament. He also introduced what we now call communion as a remembrance of His life, death, and resurrection.

And he took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.”
Luke 22:19-20 (ESV)

The Passover meal and communion were a time of gathering together around the table, sharing a meal, and taking time to remember God’s steadfast love, mercy, and sacrifice.

My friend Marcy specializes in trauma therapy and explains that telling our stories can bring physiological healing. As we share and remember, unprocessed trauma is dislodged from our brains. God designed our bodies to heal through the act of sharing stories.

Toward the end of our sharing time at the Heaveniversary party, my brother retold a story of Ericlee’s final days. He described how Ericlee’s face would light up in a smile whenever he was coherent. Cancer and pain ravaged his body, but it could not steal his joy. Many of us wiped away tears at the reminder that joy and pain often are intricately woven together. We do not want to forget God’s faithfulness to us through the grief.

The psalmist reminds us, “Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story — those he redeemed from the hand of the foe” (Psalm 107:2).

These words are an invitation to tell our stories. The Israelites continued to tell the story of how God restored them from captivity. Jesus told stories that would shape our understanding of His Father’s kingdom. And we are called to tell our stories today. Our stories can be like arrows pointing our children and those around us to God’s glory.

Friend, have you lost a loved one this year? Are you navigating grief? Make some space to remember. You could host a Heaveniversary party like ours or carve out some time at an upcoming gathering to tell stories about your loved ones. As we retell the stories and remember God’s goodness together, healing enters in. 

 

Dorina offers weekly words of encouragement to friends through her Glorygram. Sign up here to get it delivered to your inbox and to learn about her podcast and other projects.

How to Find Rest When Wounds Surface Uninvited

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It was the oversized canvas beach bag with the red straps that finally forced me to admit it. My husband went ahead to set up our sun canopy and chairs, the boys dashed off, lugging our towels and balls and boogie boards, and I stashed a pro-level supply of sunscreen, snacks, and drinks inside that beach bag.

For the past three months, I’d been struggling with a very swollen knee, so I slowly made my way to the beach.

It was on that boardwalk, when I was wrestling with that blasted beach bag and clinging to the weathered railing, that I had my little come-to-Jesus moment. I silently pled, “Jesus, I’m done. Please, fix this knee.”

And I’m quite certain He answered, “Daughter, I’ll take care of the knee — but please, set down that ridiculous bag.”

You should know, this same knee already sidelined me eight years ago for over a year between injury, misdiagnosis, delayed surgery, and rehabilitation. This second chapter was not welcome. Body parts shouldn’t have chapters.

I sat under that canopy in my beach chair and made the call to schedule an undesired reunion with my knee doctor. After an MRI, I learned that it was a swollen bone and surgery wasn’t an option. The prescription was rest and quality time with a lovely bionic knee brace and a very fancy cane.

And then came the blow: “No walking for at least twelve weeks.”

Now, let’s face it: I already couldn’t walk. But I hadn’t come to terms with that yet. So, hearing this, with a timeframe that stretched far beyond the deadline I’d assigned this whole thing, pulled me into web of no’s: No walking our brand-new puppy, no walking to clear my head, no walking to catch up with friends or get the mail or enjoy our amusement park passes or circle the track at soccer practice or . . . My mind kept going, thinking of all the ways walking was not just part of my physical health, but also my mental health.

As the weeks wore on, it got harder. Additional, long-stuffed-down wounds that had been kept quiet in seasons of flourishing activity would stay silent no more. The times when I would normally put on my sneakers, grab my earbuds, and get moving to work through frustration, stress, or anxiety, I had to sit and be still. This connection between my soul pain and my knee pain was tangled and deep.

This forced physical rest created soul unrest.

I prayed, “Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am weak; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are troubled. My soul also is greatly troubled. But you, O Lord, how long?” (Psalm 6:2-3 ESV).

My knee ached. My soul ached too. My trusty cane and brace stood as physical reminders of how much I needed to lean on God. He knew my lament and grief. He was waiting to sit with me in it, and I literally couldn’t walk away.

Why was being still harder in a season of forced stillness?

On our beach trip, as I watched the waves, I landed on the answer: I can’t be still when I’m standing in the waves. Staying at the surface of my pain, in the waves of bitterness and anger, can never give me the footing to heal.

God was challenging me to embrace the rest that my knee demanded as an invitation to go deeper with Him. He wanted me to dip below the surface waves and step fully into the deeper soul pain.

Could this forced physical rest be transformed into soul rest?

As uncomfortable as going deeper could be, I knew that’s where rest waited. Remember those underwater games we used to play? We’d hold our breath and go under and everything got still. It’s the same with soul rest. Soul rest comes when I meet God in the depths, where He already is. When I go below the surface, pause my breath, and listen, the loud quiets. The rush slows. The crash cushions.

In the deep, what I can’t see on the surface comes into focus.

In the quiet, the deepest parts of God minister to my deepest wounds.

Perhaps, then, wounds surface not to hurt us but to heal us. When He invites us to offer Him our unseen, unspoken, unhealed places, it’s so that He can raise us up. With every wound we offer Him to heal, He retells the resurrection. Every time I reach for His hem in pain, every time I weep at His feet in despair, every time I lay down the jar in thirst, He meets my longing. Every healed wound is a miraculous reminder of how He’s already pulled us from the dark. Each new healing shouts of our raising.

As the weeks stretch on, my knee brace is still firmly in place. As my sneakers gather dust, daily I make the decision of whether to sink down below the surface of my woe-is-me emotions to settle again into His rest. I’m learning to hold out my wounds as an offering, trusting that each of these wounds surfaced because He has plans to heal every single one of them.

And friend, that is my prayer for us all: That in the deep, He raises us up again.

Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me.
(Psalm 42:7 ESV)

What We Can Learn About Change and Hope from a Pearl

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“A pearl starts with a tiny grain of sand that morphs through many changes and emerges as something strong and beautiful. It symbolizes wisdom acquired through experience. They are treasured and have persevered through changes.” These words that describe a precious pearl remind me of my life in many ways.

Seven years ago, I joined Mary & Martha because I loved the products, had been looking for a new way to serve the Lord, felt a push from God, and because my husband of six months at the time, Cole, said, “Why not, Cait? What do you have to lose?”

Cole and I began our marriage abundantly blessed by the Lord. He had landed his dream job teaching high school P.E. in a town close to where we grew up. Not only were we close to our family, but God put the most amazing group of friends into our lives through a small group at church. Only God could have answered all of these prayers of mine so perfectly. So when Cole told me to give Mary & Martha a try, it was one more abundant blessing. He was right — I had nothing to lose!

I hold those words he said to me so dear to my heart because it was just four months later that I lost Cole himself very unexpectedly.

After spending two weeks in three different hospitals trying to figure out why Cole’s anomia levels were high and having many medications put into his body to stop the seizures he had experienced, I received the doctor’s words, “Your husband has been determined brain dead from the damage done by the seizures.” He was twenty-four years old. He didn’t get to finish his first year teaching at his dream job or start leading the Fellowship of Christian Athletes group at our school — something he had recently been asked to do.

A pearl symbolizes wisdom acquired through experience. At the age of twenty-four, you don’t expect to acquire wisdom through the experience of being a widow. Paul says in Philippians 1:21, “To live is Christ. To die is gain.” On May 14th, 2014, Cole gained. He gained what all of our souls long for — being with Christ forevermore. As my heart grieved, my soul had peace — peace knowing that he was with Jesus and that Jesus was with me. 

A pearl starts with a tiny grain of sand that begins to morph. Just a few months later, the Mary & Martha National Conference was happening. I’d registered before Cole passed away, and there was something in my gut saying, “Just go.” Little did I know that I, like a tiny grain of sand, would begin to morph after attending it. During the conference, I could see that this company was something special. Women prayed over me, we worshiped our Lord and Savior, and the beautiful products personally impacted my heart. After that conference, I began hosting gatherings in women’s homes where I shared the truth that God is good, no matter our circumstances.

A pearl is treasured. The last seven years with Mary & Martha have been a treasure — one that I thank God for so often. The relationships I get to have with such amazing women are what I love the most. Mary & Martha is a community of women who love Jesus and desire to make His name known. I love that long before I knew, God knew being a part of this company was where I belonged. 

A pearl experiences change. My life has had many changes. One major change was going from a wife to a widow. In June of 2018, another change came: I was blessed to marry a man who makes me laugh and live with joy every day. A few months into our marriage, God put me in another situation where I would gain wisdom acquired through experience. My sweet new husband Kaene was starting to have seizures that were causing him to black out and not know where he was or what was happening around him. After many doctor appointments and tests, the doctors were finally able to determine that he could have surgery to remove the part of his brain where the seizures were coming from. After a five-hour surgery, I was told I could see him. Seeing him brought back many vivid memories of the time in the hospital with my late husband that I was not prepared for.

Needless to say, this was very hard for my heart. I asked God, What are you doing? Why would I go through something like this again? As I cried out in my pain, I heard God reply, Do you trust me? Surrender Kaene to me. Trust that whatever happens is a part of My plan. God was reminding me to put my trust in Him and in His ways. Praise the Lord Kaene did wake up! He had the brain surgery he needed and has been seizure free for almost two years!

A pearl preserves through change. Through the trials and changes I’ve experienced in my life here on earth, I cannot image going through them without the Lord and community of believers through Mary & Martha. I have learned to lean on Christ as my joy and strength and experience full surrender and trust in Him. And this I know for sure: Though our circumstances change, Christ never changes.

Caitlin Buchholz Hammes is a Mary & Martha director who lives in Iowa with her husband Kaene and their new baby Rowan. Seven years ago, her love for Jesus and sharing His truth with others led her to become a Mary & Martha consultant, and now, she serves as a director, her full-time career and joy. 

Wow! What a story and testament to both God’s faithfulness and the blessing of being in community!

Are you longing for that kind of community too? Mary & Martha is a DaySpring company where you can create your own schedule, share your faith through inspirational products, earn unlimited income, and belong to a sisterhood of women. Mary & Martha allows you to combine your faith with your work through the products you sell and the women you gather with. Check out their recent fall catalog for beautiful products filled with hope and encouragement and all the details on becoming a consultant!

How a Crash Landing Taught Me How My Faith Is Not Only for Me

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The seat belt light illuminated, and I could barely hear the pilot’s voice, muddled by the aircraft audio speaker system. He requested that we remain seated and buckle our seatbelts and that we’d experience a little turbulence because he and the co-pilot needed to test the aircraft equipment by performing a few maneuvers. I fastened my seat belt and continued the conversation I was having with a colleague sitting next to me. 

We were engrossed in our talk — probably about the conference we’d just attended — when the plane became a roller coaster ride. The aircraft tilted left ninety degrees to fly sideways, but my colleague and I kept talking. I didn’t even look up to see how the “little turbulence” was impacting other passengers. I was so distracted by our conversation that I didn’t even notice how the aircraft was wildly bucking through the sky. After the plane then rolled ninety degrees to the right, the pilot returned to the intercom to let us know that he needed to perform more maneuvers. This time, I heard the panic in his voice. 

I paused, looked around, and saw folks clenching their arm rests. I felt fear wafting. I asked my colleague if he was okay and to excuse me while I checked in with God. I prayed out loud and asked God if we were okay. I sat in silence for a few seconds as I felt His confirmation, then turned to my colleague and said, “All is well.” “Are you sure?” he asked. I assured him we had nothing to worry about and then continued our conversation. 

We approached the destination airport to see a runway lined with fire engines, ambulances, and news vans. At  that point, we learned that our aircraft had been expected to crash land. When we finally landed and the seat belt light dimmed, we applauded. As we stood from our seats, my colleague told me that his impending panic was disrupted by my calm. Suddenly, a voice spoke up from the seat behind us, “I don’t know how you did that. I was about to crap my pants. I admire your faith. I need your faith.” Unbeknownst to me, the man in the row behind us had been observing me throughout our flight. He shared how my actions kept him from freaking out, from feeling hopeless and desperate.    

As I deplaned, the pilot emerged from the cockpit looking as though he’d been through hell. I walked towards baggage claim, past a row of news reporters sharing the story about our plane’s anticipated crash landing, which I later saw on a news broadcast. This is when I understood the magnitude of our potential despair. But it didn’t change my experience or how I’d felt. I truly believed that all was well, and I also understood how my knowing — my faith — did not solely serve me; it wasn’t only for me. And my faith wasn’t only for that event. But in that moment, the faith that I practiced everyday touched my colleague and captured the man observing us throughout the flight. 

Prior to this experience on the plane, when I thought about ways to share my faith, my imagination narrowed to a framework of telling a story about Jesus, a specific, personal story about the reality of Jesus in my life, or the invitation extended as the great commission to go and make disciples of all nations (Matthew 28:19). In other words, I thought sharing my faith meant sharing a particular narrative about how Jesus was at work in my life or inviting someone to church with me. But a near disaster taught me that people far from or close to Jesus simply need to see His light manifested in and through my life.

We don’t always have time to quote Scripture, but we can be the embodiment of God’s Word. Circumstances don’t always allot us time to talk about our faith, but our actions are the fruit of our daily practice. We don’t have to don religious paraphernalia, but how we live is a reflection of the resurrection. 

As we practice our faith, hope-filled words leap from our hearts, inspiration exudes from our souls, and light overwhelms pending darkness around us. Matthew 5:14-16 reads, “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

It may not be a near plan crash that gives you the opportunity to shine your light (I hope it isn’t), but I pray that everyone you encounter in your everyday rhythm — commuting, carpooling, grocery shopping — may experience the bright light of your faith.

Courageous Kindness Right Where You Are

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Welcome to Bible Study Mondays! We are thrilled to go through our newest Bible study, Courageous Kindness, right here with you. Each Monday for the next six weeks we will 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!

Courageous Kindness will empower us to change the world — one simple, intentional act of kindness at a time.

Pick up your copy of Courageous Kindness, and let’s start Week 1, which encourages you to start right where you are. God’s kindness is waiting for you.

Reading Assignment

This week, we will read the Introduction and Week 1: Right Where You Are, on pages 11-48 in Courageous Kindness. Grab your copy and start reading!

Discussion Video

Three of our (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 One (and find all the weekly videos here):

Quote of the Week

Keep this quote in mind as you read Week 1:

Jesus doesn’t mess around when it comes to how we’re supposed to treat people — all people, all the time.

– 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 experienced the kindness of God in an unexpected way?
  • What holds you back from being kind? And what helps you to put on love and kindness even when you don’t think someone deserves it?

Let’s Pray Together

Father, thank You for loving me right where I am no matter what I’ve done. Thank You for filling in the gaps of my poor choices, defensiveness, and sarcasm with Your grace. Help me to understand the depth of Your love for me. Empower me to show that same love and kindness to the neighbors inside and outside my own walls today. 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 & Joy, and writers Becky, Lucretia, and Grace as they all work their way through this study, right alongside you. Listen wherever you stream podcasts (or find all episodes here!)

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

When Your Soul Is a Hot Mess

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Growing up as an Indian girl in an honor-shame culture, I was always so focused on the exterior. I knew how to hide my true feeling and opinions because I had to do it so often. I was a master performer because I needed everything to look good, clean, and put together for a world that was watching and judging me. I also grew up in a very religious home where morality had become an idol. So for most of my adolescence, I strived to check off the big religious and cultural boxes to appear holy and good. I was cautious of where I went and whom I spent time with. I thought if I just didn’t drink, go out to the clubs, wear miniskirts, sleep around, and if I could avoid people that live this way, then I could make my parents see that I am good and God would see that I was holy.

I became very judgmental of those who didn’t live this way. Ultimately, I didn’t understand the grace of God because I thought I was a good person, morally upright and living out the Christian values I was taught.

Here is the problem, no one is good. I am capable of doing good things, but I am not wholly and completely good all the time. I mean when I compare myself to some people, I may seem good in my own eyes, but when Christ is my standard, I fall short every time.

My pursuit of holiness and goodness was more about external perception than an inward transformation. On the outside, I looked the part of a good Indian Christian girl, but deep inside I struggled with pride, envy, and anger.

In Matthew 15:11, Jesus tells a bunch of rule-following, self-righteous Pharisees, “It is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth; this defiles a person.”

God had given the children of Israel laws to teach them to live differently than the world around them, so that they could be set apart as a people that pursued God’s heart. Instead, they pursued the laws and missed God’s heart, so Jesus comes to show the world how we ought to truly pursue God’s heart. It isn’t simply by following religious rules; it is through relationship.

Humans understand rules and can, for the most part, follow a checklist, but a relationship takes more effort. Rules are concrete, and relationships can be messy. Like these Pharisees, so often in life it is easier to go through the motions and check off boxes than to really engage with God’s Word and live after His heart. Rules weren’t the problem. The law was meant to lead them to love God, but then the law became the idol they loved more than God. They lived a life avoiding sinners, sick people, and dead things because they thought that would make them holy and good, but their hearts were far from God.

I was so focused on how clean my hands looked, that I didn’t see how dirty my heart was. It’s like when you have company and you make sure to clean the main areas, but your closets are a hot mess. Can I get an amen?

Only Jesus can clean our hearts and change us from the inside out.

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
1 John 1:9 (ESV)

When we truly understand grace and the love of God, we will no longer be satisfied with merely avoiding bad things. Jesus calls us to a life of abundance not avoidance. We don’t simply choose to do good things to avoid shame or for the external perception of holiness but because we have been made holy by the blood of Jesus. His love compels us to pursue His goodness and extend His grace to others.