When the Symptoms Reveal Something Deeper Within

When the Symptoms Reveal Something Deeper Within

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here’s to the Ten-Second Miracles Around Us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s just the protection kind of miracles.

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

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

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

 

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Trusting God for What We Can’t See

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

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

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

And that should’ve been the end of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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Sickness Can Help You Be a Blessing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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Empowered to Be More Than Conquerors

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No matter what. Full stop.

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

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

REFLECT:

  • Is it easy or hard for you to believe you are more than a conqueror? Why do you think that is?
  • How can you walk forward boldly with your head held high?
Empowered to Be More Than Conquerors was written by Anna E. Rendell, as published in Empowered: More of Him for All of You.

Empowered: More of Him for All of You, by Mary Carver, Grace P. Cho, and Anna E. Rendell is designed to incorporate the five major components of our being — physical, mental, emotional, relational, and spiritual. The sixty Scripture passages and devotions invite you to see from different angles how God empowers us, and each day ends with prayer and reflection questions to deepen the learning. Empowered: More of Him for All of You is unlike any other book we’ve ever written at (in)courage, and we are SO excited for it to be in your hands.

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

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

 

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

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I believe deeply in the healing power of soup.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But today, all I have is soup.

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

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

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

Of course, your soup may look different than mine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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When You Feel Overwhelmed, Let Love Light Your Way

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Prescription for Clear Vision

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I was eleven years old when I started wearing glasses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Make Jesus and His kingdom your treasure.

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

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

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

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Listen to today’s article here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Spiritual Weight of Asking “How Are You?”

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At the end of the first week of January, I posted a question in my Instagram stories: How would you rate your past week from 1-10? I was not prepared for the answers. Many had middle to low numbers. There were a lot of 4s and 3s. But there were also a lot of negative numbers. One person said -10, another -2,000. I had more than one person write, Whatever the worst possible number is — that’s how I’m doing.

I sat with those responses for a long time, chatting with the folks who had answered and getting to know more of how they were doing. What stood out to me were the layers of struggle that so many people are navigating right now: people’s stress from the continued pandemic is higher than ever; many of us have family members who have contracted COVID (some of us have been hit personally by the virus); we’re fatigued from work, even burned out; friendships have been torn apart by different views on politics and race; young moms feel isolated in their homes, unable to go anywhere because they have unvaccinated littles; ministry leaders have decision fatigue, unsure of whether to continue meeting in person or online and how to shepherd folks well in a time when almost nothing feels stable. The list goes on and on.

There were so many responses to my question, and it made it clear to me that not only are we all struggling in different ways right now, we also want to feel seen and be heard. We long to be asked, “How are you doing?”

People I didn’t even know were drawn to my simple question, and they wanted to share their life story with me. It’s a human need to be seen, especially when we’re hurting. Many of us need someone to talk to right now. We need a hug, a shoulder to cry on, a community to make the loneliness more bearable. We need friends to tell us “It’s okay to not be okay” right now. No quick fixes. No pithy advice. Just co-sufferers, who help us keep putting one foot in front of the other and tell us we’re going to make it.

God created us as humans with a basic need to live in community and to carry each other’s burdens (Galatians 6:2). In fact, Scripture specifically challenges us to “encourage one another and build each other up” (1 Thessalonians 5:11). These are difficult challenges even in the best of times, let alone during a pandemic. We’re all hurting right now. Nothing feels normal. Our mental, physical, and spiritual health have all been hit. We’re tired. Many of us are unhappy. It’s hard to care for others when we are hurting ourselves. Yet the beauty of the body of Christ is that we were created to care for each other, even in the midst of our own pains, and in doing so, make each other’s burdens feel lighter.

I wonder how this year might look different if we gave more attention to asking each other, “How are you doing?” This question could look different from one person to the next. In many Asian cultures it sounds more like, “Have you eaten yet?” It could be a text message that states, “I’m thinking about you today. Do you need anything?” Or as others have recommended, maybe we can ask each other, “How are you coping?” or “What’s been on your mind lately?” instead. Living in a pandemic, we can assume we’re all not doing that great. The focus is more on how we’re handling the stresses, where we’re struggling, and the pockets where we’re finding resilience.

There is spiritual weight to asking each other, “How are you?” Checking in with a friend, a neighbor, or family member tells that person they belong, that their personhood and experiences matter, so let’s check in with each other! Be spontaneous and call up (or text) a friend today. Be intentional and set up a rhythm in your Google calendar for whom you will check in with and when. As you reach out to folks, be willing to be vulnerable back. The more transparent we are of how we’re doing, the more we create a safe space for others to share what’s going on with them.

2022 will probably be just as hard as 2021. But we can help lighten each other’s burdens by encouraging and building each other up. We don’t have to journey through another year alone. Who knows how the simple act of reaching out to someone and asking, “How are you?” may just be how God will show up in our lives to give us His joy and strength to keep on keeping on.

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Tune in today to a bonus episode of the (in)courage podcast! (in)courage friends Mary Carver, Grace P. Cho, and Anna E. Rendell discuss their new devotional Empowered: More of Him for All of You. Don’t miss this conversation — listen today!

 

 

 

What’s Keeping You from Being Free? Overcome It This Year

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The sun has long since slipped behind the horizon, but I’m still at my computer. My back aches from sitting in the same chair. My mind feels like the inside of a beehive, full of restless buzzing. I’m exhausted, but I push myself to click a few more keys. I can’t stop.

I didn’t have a glass in my hand, but there was a season in my life when I worked like it was an addiction. It’s been years ago now, but I still remember how it wreaked havoc on my life. My relationships suffered. My health declined. I had no peace of mind. All of this came back to me in a recent conversation with a friend. We talked about how some of the things that destroy us are also, ironically, the ones that bring us the most praise from others.

No one had an intervention with me about my work habits. I didn’t get arrested. I never attended rehab. Instead I got told, “Good job!” and “Keep at it!” Productivity and busyness gave me a sense of worth; they made me feel needed and valued. I’ve personally come to believe anything we consistently do to excess can become a trap.

It doesn’t matter if our behavior is labeled “good” or “bad.” It’s the effect on our lives and relationships that matters. I’ve seen people become dependent on ”good” things like helping, legalism, meeting needs, and religious activities. We all have something we’re consistently tempted to go to in order to numb out, cope with stress, or avoid facing difficult emotions or experiences. Sometimes it’s just harder to recognize.

This tendency to gravitate toward what takes us captive is part of human nature. As the Apostle Paul said, “I have discovered this principle of life — that when I want to do what is right, I inevitably do what is wrong. I love God’s law with all my heart. But there is another power within me that is at war with my mind. This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me.” (Romans 7:21-23) When we’re caught in this cycle, it’s impossible to have peace because we’re at war with whatever we’re doing to excess.

We all know what this is like — to live fighting off the urge to have another drink, eat another cookie, say “yes” to one more request or put in another hour at the office long after we know we should have gone home. The good news is we don’t have to win the battle on our own. “Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death? Thank God! The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Romans 7:24-25)

This doesn’t mean we simply say a prayer and have automatic victory. Getting free may involve counseling, accountability, a support group, many times of trying and failing, as well as practical and spiritual resources. What these words do mean is that Jesus will empower us to overcome what we’re struggling with and help us regain our peace.

When Jesus began to free me from finding my identity in my work, I felt terrified. If I didn’t keep up the pace, then surely everything would fall apart. This is what addictive behavior tries to tell us — that if we stop we will never be okay. But I discovered when we stop trying to hold it all together we can finally rest in what we need most — a God who holds us.

God, it’s so easy to give our worth over to something other than You. When we start to do so, even if it’s a “good” thing, draw us back to You and remind us we have nothing to prove. Set us free, restore our peace, bring us victory. In Jesus’ name, amen.

 

Do you or someone you love need hope and encouragement as you begin a new month? Holley’s new devotional, What Your Soul Needs for Stressful Times: 60 Powerful Truths to Protect Your Peace, will be a powerful blessing to you in 2022.

You Are His and You Are Loved

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For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.
John 3:16 (NLT)

The other day I learned a friend of mine is dating someone new. She told me they had been friends for a while and that he finally appears to like her. Before I could send her all the confetti and heart-eyed emojis to celebrate this fun update, she followed up her news with a long list of questions.

“But why does he like me? How could he? I’m so selfish and stubborn and . . .”

Her doubts went on for a while before I broke in to remind her of her many good attributes and the fact that it’s not impossible someone could care for her so much that all those “bad” things wouldn’t matter.

At first, I shook my head at my friend. But then I thought of how many times — and how deeply — I’ve wondered how God could possibly love me.

“But why does He like me? How could He? I’m so selfish and stubborn and . . . ”

Sometimes, trying to comprehend God’s love can leave me bewildered and insecure. I consider the Creator of this universe, the One who sees all and knows all, the One who holds the entire world in His hand — He loves me? And not just in a vague or distant sort of way but in a highly specific and incredibly intimate way? Well, it’s baffling! And maybe even feels impossible at times.

But it’s true.

God loves me, and He loves you. Not despite who we are, but fully acknowledging and accepting who we are. Not when we get our act together or live up to our potential, but every moment since the beginning through the end of time, no matter what. He loves us without reservation, without conditions, and without end.

He loves us enough to send His Son to this broken planet to take our place and our punishment, to rewrite our stories, to redeem every single part of us. He loves us enough to follow us to the ends of the earth — and He did. Why? I still don’t quite know. But His love for us, in all its glory, is as undeniable as it is unimaginable.

And that’s the best news anyone could ask for.

May you take time to rest in the knowledge that God loves you beyond question and beyond measure. You are beloved, friend.

This article was written by (in)courage writer Mary Carver.

We all have times in our lives when we feel like we can’t find or hold on to hope, and it’s easy to get caught up in the distractions and troubles in this world. But what would happen if we took our focus off the trials we face and instead set our minds on things above? If we focus on God’s heart for us, we can rest in His peace, fully knowing we are loved by an almighty Father who is the King of all kings.

DaySpring has a resource that can help remind us just how loved we are — meet the DaySpring Hope & Encouragement Bible!

Throughout the pages of this Bible, you will find twelve life-changing truths that highlight different dimensions of our identity as children of God. For example, you are loved, you are known, you are held, you are His.

This year, we’re going to discover these truths together, starting right here: You are loved. God deeply loves you. He chose you before you chose Him. You are His cherished child.

Have you ever thought about it? The God who created everything you see — the One who set the first planet into orbit, who gives breath to every single living creature, who directs all nature and life — loves you. He not only loves you, but He cares deeply about every detail of your life. He delights in your uniqueness. In fact, when God created you, He set you apart with your very own assortment of special abilities and gifts that compare to no one else’s. Isn’t that amazing?

Sign up here for a free sampler excerpt from the Hope & Encouragement Bible! We want these truths to sink into your soul so that you may know how loved you really are, so we’re giving away a Hope & Encouragement Bible! Just leave a comment telling us what it means to you that you are loved by God.

Giveaway open until 11:59pm central on 2/4/2022 to US addresses only.

 

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Our Kids Crave Connection Just Like We Do

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I rolled over to turn off my cell phone alarm and decided to hop online to find out what was going on in the world. I ended up checking email and scrolling through social media too, and before I knew it almost an hour had passed. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten breakfast so I got up and went downstairs to make coffee and toast.

When I was finished eating, I took a shower and got ready, then decided to check my work email before I read my Bible and devotional. After deleting the promotional emails and feeling like my inbox was more manageable, I hopped over to Instagram — again.

Finally, I came out of my digital daze and scolded myself for wasting most of my morning scrolling. But I knew there was a reason, and eventually when I took time to pray about it and quiet my heart to listen, I sensed I’d been trying to fill my need for real-life connections with a white screen and black alphabet keys. But my heart craved something no amount of digital interactions could fill.

That afternoon when my kids got home from school, I noticed how quickly they turned to their digital devices too, and it dawned on me that my children are dealing with the same struggles as I do.

As much as they love their screens, our kids need real-life connections and a sense of belonging that comes through relationships and spending time together. Even with their own distractions, that day I realized how much my children need my presence and my attention.

There were (and sometimes still are) times when we would be together as a family, but my mind would be somewhere else getting something done. I remember when my boys were not yet teens and we were playing a board game one Saturday night, I felt so proud of myself for leaving my phone in the kitchen. I felt like a great mom who was being fully present with my kids — until I got distracted.

Although my body was still in the living room, my mind had drifted off somewhere else, returning calls and texts in my head, making a grocery list, and thinking about all I could be getting done. I glanced at the clock across the room to see how many hours it would be before our boys’ bedtime when I could get started on my to-do list. As I looked back at the game, my younger son, Andrew, had turned his head to where all I could see was the silhouette of his face.

He looks so much older, I thought. It won’t be long before he starts counting the hours until I go to bed so he can text friends and stay up late playing video games. Lord, help me cherish and enjoy the gift of being with the ones I love while they’re still with me, I prayed silently.

Jesus knew His time on earth was limited, but He never seemed hurried or distracted. I never sense He saw people’s desire for His time as an interruption, but rather, He welcomed it as an invitation. He valued being with people over being productive.

Unlike Jesus, I tend to be a type-A, get-it-done kind of girl. Being instead of doing has always been hard for me. But I also know God wired me this way, so He’s the only One who can make me more like Him. My only hope is to take my struggles to Jesus and ask Him to help me manage the tension between desires and distractions.

When I spend time with God, He challenges me to slow down and enjoy being with my husband and children. He knows how important they are to me, and He also knows how easily I get tangled up in my tasks and to-do lists. He slows me down and gives me sweet reminders like my child’s silhouette. He also helps me come up with creative ways to stay present with my people when my high octane brain gets distracted.

  • I look into their faces and remember what they used to look like. This helps me grasp how quickly time flies.
  • I think back to what life was like without them. This makes me thankful God gave them to me.
  • I imagine a day when they won’t be with me, the day they may live in another city with their own families. This makes me want to cry! But then I freeze-frame that moment so it will last longer.
  • I sometimes imagine it’s the last time we will be together and focus on making it our best! Yes, sometimes I have to go to that extreme.

Jesus valued face-to-face connections and surrounded Himself with family and friends — spending time with people over meals, at weddings, fishing, and as they traveled together. Through His example, we see how important it is to satisfy our craving and our kids’ craving for connection by spending time together.

Lord, You created us with a longing for connection and a sense of belonging that comes when we are together. In a digital world, it’s easy to grow numb to our need for real-life relationships with screens pulling us away from what matters most to us and to You. Help me find the balance between being together and being productive. I need Your wisdom and creative ways to connect with my kids. Amen.

Want to find simple ways to give your children what they need most and be encouraged with the truth and grace your heart needs to know too? You’ll find both and so much more in Renee’s new book, A Confident Mom. Pre-order your copy today!

He Prunes Us So That We May Bear More Fruit

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With few exceptions, our house has always been a place plants go to die. I’ve tried to buy varieties that thrive on neglect to improve the odds, but I usually forget about them until I spy one that looks especially droopy. And then I water them all at once. As it turns out, that’s not a good plan. You can’t care for plants in a one-size-fits-all fashion.

When we moved in December 2020, I wanted to enliven our new home with more greenery, especially since we had a sunroom for the first time. I visited nurseries and soon became obsessed with adding plants to every room. Of course, my lovely new plants needed cute planters too.

Soon, I realized that if I wanted them to retain their fresh-from-the-nursery look (and not waste the investment I’d made), I needed to learn how to care for each plant individually. A succulent that is native to the desert and an African violet that is native to the rain forest have different needs.

My oldest daughter recommended an app which I now use to catalog our plants and their locations within our home. After entering each room and its lighting conditions, it tells me which plants are suitable to grow where and how often to water them. The long, draping ivy in my sunroom needs to be watered multiple times a week, but the fiddle leaf fig in my kitchen needs it much less often. I never realized indoor plants have different watering requirements at different times of year. Although I wrote two books about essential oils, which are produced from plants, it seems I could write another book on all the things I didn’t know about growing them.

Month after month, however, as my plants have continued to thrive, my confidence has grown along with them. I don’t own one of those cute Plant Mom tees, but if I did, I would wear it proudly instead of ironically. I really do try to mother my plants well.

That’s why I was alarmed the day one of my favorites, a majestic split leaf philodendron, appeared to go on the decline.

This plant, also known as a hope plant, has frilly, ruffle-shaped leaves that spread high and wide open toward the sky — or in this case, the ceiling. But one day I noticed one long stalk had abandoned its perky posture and began to droop toward the floor, while its large, green leaf curled up and turned yellow.

What had I done wrong? The rest of the plant looked so healthy!

After a talk with my daughter and a Google search, I learned another fascinating fact about plants: Sometimes they shed older leaves in order to direct their energy toward new growth. Sure enough, when I looked closer, I noticed fresh stalks sprouting up right in front of me. I thought my plant was dying, but it was actually redirecting its energy, prioritizing the new over the old.

Just like my plant, my life looks different now than it did not so long ago. We moved to a new area and a new neighborhood. I’ve made new friends but seldom see many who’ve been a part of my life for years. I retired after over a decade of tutoring in a one-day-per-week program.

I didn’t realize how weary I’d grown from an extended period of labor — years of working on book deadlines and lesson plans, months of preparing our old house to sell, the physical and emotional toll of moving — until I slowed down and slid into an unplanned season of rest. The changes of the past year reset my rhythms more than a list of new year’s resolutions.

By nature, I’m work driven, and I’ve struggled with taking downtime. This slower season of life has felt so different I’ve wondered if I’ve been doing it all wrong. I’ve felt guilty about the things I’m not doing (like work) and also the things I am doing (like staying up late with a book I can’t put down or bingeing Spider-Man movies).

Pruning a tree, plant, or vine can increase its fruitfulness and the Bible uses the same analogy for periods of spiritual growth:

Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit.
John 15:2 (NASB)

The verse begins with barrenness, followed by productivity, and finally abundance. Periods of seeming barrenness — metaphorically pulling the weeds and tilling the soil — can help to prepare us for the harvest to come. Just as my plant redirected its energy from old to new growth, the Lord often prunes us before periods of fruitfulness.

As things in my life become pruned and as I learn to rest in the barrenness, I trust that this is a season that’s good and necessary, from which I will one day reap a harvest of fruitfulness in the seasons to come.

How has the Lord pruned an area of your life and led you into a season of greater abundance?

You Are Beautiful in Your Bareness

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I was in that place where women go on the weekend to get their hair cut and colored, to cover the roots and dye the grays, to primp the curls and straighten the strands — the salon. 

I was sitting there, scrolling mindlessly on my phone, when a woman came and sat in the empty chair next to me. She mumbled something under her breath and made motions with her hands. She spoke louder and then louder again. I couldn’t tell if she was talking to me or to someone else or if she was just speaking into the air.

So I ignored her and kept scrolling mindlessly on my phone.

I was tired, and I didn’t want conversation. I didn’t even want eye contact. I just wanted to get in and get out, just wanted to get my hair cut and be on my way. But the woman wouldn’t stop mumbling under her breath and pointing at all the other women and young girls in the salon.

So I listened. I looked away from my phone and paid attention to what she was saying.

“Her hair is so nice,” she said. “And just look at her over there — all you ladies are so beautiful, just beautiful.”

She pointed to a woman down the row and to a young girl sitting next to me.

“Just beautiful hair,” she said. “Everyone here has beautiful hair.” Then she finally slid into her chair and sat down to wait for her hair to be washed.

I caught a glance of her, noticing her long, gray hair and bronze skin, matured with wrinkles — map lines that told the story of her journey.

She was beautiful. She had nice hair.

And not only did she beam with beauty on the outside, but her eyes twinkled with a truth that came from deep, deep within.

Saturdays at the salon are sacred, is what she was saying. It’s where women and young girls gather together, all bearing bare faces and bare beauty. It’s a sacred place where they show up with their hair undone, unkempt, unruly, showing off every kink and curl and pin-straight strand. It’s where they sit, vulnerable, at the hands of another, who will wash the dry scalp and dirty hair. It’s where they expose the true texture of their hair — all the thickness and the thinning out, all the bald spots and every ringlet that’s been called bad. 

When it was my turn, my hairdresser tapped me on the shoulder. She motioned for me to come and sit in her chair. Then she unwrapped the towel covering my hair and ran her fingers through my thick mane. She dried my hair, pulling a bristle brush through it, section by bulky section. 

“I am beautiful,” I thought to myself. “Even now, in the middle of maintaining my mane.”

I smiled underneath my mask, looking around at all the other women and young girls. In my mind, I heard the echoes: Everyone here has beautiful hair. Everyone here has beautiful hair . . . 

The truth about Saturdays (or Mondays or Wednesdays or Fridays) at the salon is that we are not only beautiful but we are also beloved and we belong.

God looks at each one of us and sees and loves everything about us — the width of our hips, the height of our body, the texture of our hair, the tone of our skin, the length of our eyelashes, the swell of our curves.

God cannot help but stand and point and shout and tell us that we are beautiful, just like that woman at the salon. He is always muttering and mumbling with His breath in our ears that we are His beloved and that we belong to Him, just as we are.

You may (or may not) be well into your New Year’s resolutions by now. You might have cut and colored your hair, stepped out in style, bought the bag or purchased the purse. You might be drinking more water and eating more vegetables. You might be moving your body more or counting your steps.

But, beloved, don’t forget that you are beautiful in your bareness. Don’t forget that you belong, just as you are. On the days or weeks or months when you feel like you are showing up undone, unkempt, and unruly, know that you do not have to primp and perfect yourself to be accepted and loved by others.

You do not have to primp and perfect yourself to be accepted and loved by God.

You can come and sit, with all your color and culture, all your hair texture and taste in style that makes you who you are. Without looking around to compare, without looking around to compete, you can come and be.

And in this season, if you are already comfortable showing up as you are, then perhaps look up from scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Look up to see and call out the beauty and belovedness of others. Make every space that you are in sacred by speaking words that reflect our Father’s loving embrace: Just look at her over there — all of you are so beautiful.

Just beautiful.

Empowered to Say No

by

Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Simon and his companions went to look for him, and when they found him, they exclaimed: “Everyone is looking for you!”

Jesus replied, “Let us go somewhere else — to the nearby villages — so I can preach there also. That is why I have come.”
Mark 1:35-38 (NIV)

I wash the rice robotically as my mind zigzags between every worry and concern and my increasing to-do list. The braised beef ribs stew in the Dutch oven on the stove, and the aroma of soy sauce, garlic, onions, and ginger fills the kitchen with the smells of home.

I taste the sauce for the beef ribs, and though I’ve made this dish a dozen times before, I still get nervous when I’m making it for a new mama. I want it to be perfect — for her to experience a mother’s love when her own is far away. I was a new mom once with no family close by, so now I want to show up whenever I’m able and provide what I never had. And though my life was overflowing with obligations, I signed up for the meal train anyway.

I pour the rice into the rice cooker, use my index finger to measure the correct amount of water, and I’m amused that somehow it’s accurate every single time. I press the cook button to get it going, and as I turn my attention to the next dish I’ve promised to make, my phone buzzes. I miss the call just as I reach for it and see that a friend has called me twice already.

It must be an emergency. Why else would she be calling me so many times?

I dial her number, and every possible scenario flashes through my head while I wait for her to answer.

“Hi!”

Her chipper greeting dispels all worries, but before I can tell her that I’m busy, she chatters on about her day, how it’s been at work lately, her complaints about this and that person, and how exhausted she’s been. I watch the minutes pass as I try to stir and juggle the phone and make sure I’m on schedule to get the meal delivered to the new mama on time. I don’t know how to get off the phone without seeming rude, so I say nothing but the occasional “yeah” to let her know I’m still listening.

By the time dinner is dropped off and I’m driving home in the quiet of my car, I realize how spent I am. I can feel the whining coming up through my heart to my mind, annoyed at no one specific but taking it out on the slow driver in front of me and . . . myself.

I’ve passed my limit of pouring out, and I knew it was coming. I probably even knew it when I first signed up to provide a meal, but I have such a hard time saying no. I don’t want to be thought of as unfriendly or as someone who doesn’t show up. I want people to know that I’m trustworthy and dependable, that I see them and can carry their burdens with them. The problem is that I want to do that for everyone. It seems like the thing Jesus would’ve done — isn’t He the one who sacrificed it all for us?

But when I look closely at His life, I see that He didn’t do everything for everyone. He wasn’t always available. He made choices, saying yes to some and no to many. In Mark 1:35-38, Jesus’s disciples find Him and exclaim, “Everyone is looking for you!” People are clamoring for Him to heal them and to cast demons out of their loved ones. Everyone needs and wants something from Jesus.

But Jesus responds by saying, “Let’s go somewhere else.” He knows not only His purpose but also His capacity.

He demonstrates this so many times in His life, establishing boundaries with unhealthy people, setting new standards for unsustainable patterns, and upending unjust practices. He retreats to solitary places to pray (Mark 1:35-38). He takes His time and rests when needed, even in the midst of a storm (Mark 4:35-41). He overturns tables in the temple — a hard no to those exploiting the poor (John 2:13-16).

Saying no actually is being like Jesus. He knew the wisdom of setting boundaries, and He empowers us to do the same. When we are being pulled in every direction, we can say yes to His purpose within our capacity.

Lord, You don’t require us to do all the things all the time. Help me not to get the needs of others confused with what You’re asking me to do. Give me the courage and ability to say no, to establish boundaries with those who often cross them, and to see my limitedness as a good thing and not a selfish thing. Amen.

Reflect:

  • In what areas of your life do you need to build healthy boundaries?
  • What’s one no you’re going to say today?
Empowered to Say No was written by Grace P. Cho, as published in Empowered: More of Him for All of You, coming in February from (in)courage.

Empowered: More of Him for All of You, by Mary Carver, Grace P. Cho, and Anna E. Rendell is designed to incorporate the five major components of our being — physical, mental, emotional, relational, and spiritual. The sixty Scripture passages and devotions invite you to see from different angles how God empowers us, and each day ends with prayer and reflection questions to deepen the learning.

Empowered: More of Him for All of You is unlike any other book we’ve ever written at (in)courage, and we are SO excited for it to be in your hands. It’s honest, hopeful, and beautiful in both design and content.

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It’s our prayer that as you read this book, you’ll be empowered in every part of your being to live fully as God created you to be.

 

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