Hard on Yourself? Try Curiosity Instead of Criticism

Hard on Yourself? Try Curiosity Instead of Criticism

by

I’m seated on a chair in the middle of the kitchen in my childhood home, a towel draped around my neck like a makeshift cape. My mom and grandmother read instructions from the back of a box. How hard can a home perm be? The curl-inducing chemicals smell like a lab experiment gone wrong. I go back to third grade looking like a poodle. Has anyone else had this experience?

I thought of my home perm when we took our granddaughter to get her first haircut. (God brought her mama into our lives when she was twenty so, yes, we’re young grandparents.) Eula was two years old and brought her favorite stuffed animal, Fifi, with her to this momentous occasion.

The stylist hands Eula a small mirror and tells her to look into it. It’s an attempt to help her sit still, and it works. Eula leans toward the mirror until she’s so close her breath makes fog on it. She’s intrigued by her own face. Watching her, I’m struck by how differently she and I look into mirrors.

Sometimes we pause and take a closer look at our lives. We reflect on the past and look forward to the future. We often do so with a harsh eye; it’s so easy to be hard on ourselves. We remember our mistakes. The goals we didn’t meet. We tell ourselves, “This will be the time I get it right,” as if everything that’s come before has been wrong.

But what if we try Eula’s approach instead? What if, instead of looking with criticism, we look with curiosity? Criticism condemns; curiosity invites us to learn. Criticism shuts us down; curiosity opens us up. Criticism holds us back; curiosity inspires us to grow. Romans 8:34 says, “Who then will condemn us? No one—for Christ Jesus died for us and was raised to life for us.” When we choose curiosity rather than criticism, we’re more aligned with the heart of God toward us.

Curious questions sound like . . .

– What am I learning?
– How am I growing?
– In what ways am I getting stronger?

Then we can ask how we can continue learning, growing, and becoming stronger.

The Mayo clinic says the benefits of making our thinking more positive include:

– Lower rates of depression
– Lower levels of distress
– Greater resistance to illness and a longer life span
– Better psychological and physical well-being
– Better cardiovascular health and reduced risk of death from cardiovascular disease
– Better coping skills during hardships and times of stress

Disclaimer: Positive thinking does not mean being happy all the time, sugar-coating difficulties, or walking around with a fake smile plastered on your face. That’s not helpful either. I struggle with anxiety and depression. Pollyana positivity isn’t beneficial, or even possible, for me. Realistic positive thinking means approaching our lives, and ourselves, with curiosity rather than condemnation.

I love these wise words from Lisa-Jo Baker: “What if you were kind to yourself — because you are a child of God? Beautiful. Called. Named. Beloved. Worth more than the scale and the lists and the demands and the expectations?”

Yes, let’s hold a mirror up to our hearts and lives sometimes. Let’s find ways to keep learning, growing, and becoming stronger. As we do, let’s also remember that curiosity is more helpful than self-criticism. Let’s resolve not to use condemnation as motivation when the God we serve only uses grace.

And no home perms. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

God, thank You that because of Your grace we can look at our hearts and lives with curiosity, not condemnation. Show us what You want us to see. When we’re tempted to be harsh with ourselves, help us remember Your extravagant kindness toward us.

If you’d like more encouragement from Holley, you’ll find it in her new devotional book, What Your Soul Needs for Stressful Times: 60 Powerful Truths to Protect Your Peace.

What We Can Hold On to When Everything Else Is Complicated

by

I saunter through the aisles at Target, browsing for nothing in particular. Candles. Bed sheets. The cutest section of children’s decor. I pass the light bulbs and home improvement tools and eventually end up in the container aisle with its glorious selection of cloth, plastic, and wooden boxes neatly stacked. They promise organization where there is clutter, peace where there is chaos; everything in its rightful place. 

I have no use for them, but still, I mentally walk through my house, seeking a reason to buy one. I could definitely use one for the living room to hold all the extra blankets we have laying around. Or maybe we need one for the kids’ room or even the car. A catch-all for the random things we have everywhere would be helpful. I reason and argue back and forth with myself, but at the end of it all, I know I’m just trying to fix what can’t be fixed with Target containers.

My mind has felt chaotic for too many months without end, and though my life has settled down to a regular rhythm and grief doesn’t show up as often as it did before, my mind and heart can’t seem to find a place to land. I’m both running and somehow frozen in place. My days aren’t busy, and yet I’m tired all the time. I don’t feel far from God, but I’m jaded and cynical about people, about the church, about what changes can happen to make the world a better place.

Even the gospel feels messy and unlike good news at times because of the harm and hurt that’s been caused and experienced because of the way people have wielded it. 

And this tension is where I find myself in every situation I’m in, every relationship I must tend to. They all require nuance instead of black-and-white or right-and-wrong, grace and tenderness again and again instead of judgment, bitterness, and cynicism. I want the ease of being on one extreme or the other, of taking one side as the right one. I want to choose the more convenient and comfortable path of not living in the tension because it’s work and I don’t want to do it sometimes. I want all the gray to be split back up into black and white so I can categorize them into neat containers and not have to deal with how to navigate love well when rules and standards and regulations are more clearly defined. 

Righteousness in my own eyes is less complicated than loving and living in this world as Jesus did. 

And every time I remember Jesus, I’m undone. The tantrum boiling up inside me, yelling that it’s too hard to try, too hard to hold complicated situations, too hard to hope, finds open arms in Jesus. I don’t have to figure out all the nuances or how to be or do something to move forward. Instead, I get to crumble and be held. My tears and anger, my frustration, find a place to land because it really is too hard even if it doesn’t look like it on the surface. 

Even this is becoming. It doesn’t mean beauty will come from the ashes or that the story will end well or that all will be figured out for the greater good. It simply means that God is, God is with, and God is here. 

And that’s enough for me to keep going, to keep trying, to hold out for hope, and to work toward a better reality. I don’t need promises of certainty (even though I want them) nor do I need the clarity that can come with a box so everything has its place. All I need to know is that God is — and that’s the surest certainty there is. 

What Do We Do in a World of False Dichotomy?

by

I don’t know about you, but I sense an edge to the way things have been lately. A reactivity around nearly every topic and situation. It’s not that we have thoughts about current events, but we often feel the need to lash out at others in our quest to be right. We get more and more passionate until any notion of disagreement leads us to start reciting the same script, desperate to get the other side to see ours as the only one. It’s not enough to be wise or winsome, we have to win.

So what do we do in a world of false dichotomy? How do we navigate the way when it seems both lanes are going in totally opposite directions but neither seems to get us home?

I’ve been thinking about Nehemiah lately — about a displaced people trying to make their way under a new regime. They were strangers in their own land, watching the destruction of the walls that once kept them safe. They had every right to be outraged and to push back against their tyrants with weapons, but this would not have been productive. Instead, Nehemiah goes to the king and asks for permission to rebuild what’s been broken. He recognizes that this needs to be a conversation, and the Lord blesses it.

Of course, it’s only a matter of time before they’re verbally harassed by their enemies. The back of their necks get hot, and they find themselves losing patience. And then, right when they could take action against their oppressors, Nehemiah’s men just. keep. building.

So we built the wall. And all the wall was joined together to half its height, for the people had a mind to work. Nehemiah 4:6 (ESV)

I often want to build my case before I build my faith. I have a good reason for my reasons. I have important thoughts and want to be known for my competence! I don’t want to stay faithful to the day-to-day of ordinary life. It’s hard to wake up early and open my Bible and process the day before the Lord. It’s hard to show up to church on a Sunday when my bed is cozy and I haven’t dug my car out of the snow yet (I know — it’s October. It’s too early. And yet? It’s showing up sooner than we’d like!)

Perhaps Jesus knew what He was doing when He placed us right where we are right at this moment. Perhaps He knew our times would be divided and Facebook would go from being a place to see babies and puppies and friends from high school to a place where you see some true colors that make you want to back further away. For living in an age of hype and victory, it often feels like defeat. Rather than coming together, we’re pulling apart at the seams.

So I look back to Nehemiah who was being bullied but was determined to do his job. Sure, he had a weapon at the ready, but I think it’s key to watch how he doesn’t use it first. He doesn’t follow his gut that wants to fight back but trusts that the Lord has him in the work he does for a reason. So he stays faithful to the work.

I don’t know what you have in front of you, what kind of challenge or task is at hand, but I do know that this world is dark and wants to pull you into the cover of night. So, friend, I say this: Keep building. Keep an eye on the horizon and keep building.

When Healing Takes Longer Than You Want It To

by

I’ve sat in coffee shops, on Zoom, in Instagram direct messages, and on my grey thrifted couch in my apartment, hearing a variation of the same story over and over. When women say the words out loud to me, taking a shaky breath before they plunge in, I feel a hundred different things: tenderness towards this section of their story, grief over the pain they’ve been caused, and pride for the step of courage they’ve taken in speaking their story out loud. 

After I shared my article last year on (in)courage about beginning the journey of healing after experiencing sexual assault, I’ve talked to a lot of women (and some men) who share this sliver of my story. 

Over and over, after these women have been courageous enough to speak their story out loud, they’ve often asked me, “But when does the pain stop? When will the healing kick in?” 

I’m not a counsellor, and more than anything, I’d encourage you to find someone trusted to speak with. But for years, I felt this same way — frustrated with myself for getting sucked back into the pain, angry for “not being able to get over it.” I told this to a therapist once. I told her I felt broken because I kept feeling so much pain. Why wasn’t I healing the way I thought I should be? 

I asked her if it would always be this way, and she told me healing can look like a spiral.

“Often we think of healing as one straight line. The problem with that is, we easily become discouraged because it seems as though we take steps backward,” she told me. Her hair was long and dark, her dress the same. “If we look at healing like a spiral then we can see we’re actually always moving forward. But just because we are in the spiral doesn’t mean we don’t feel the pain.”

I stared at the picture she had drawn — the shape of a spiral on the otherwise blank page.

“The spiral seems like a longer journey than the line,” I told her.

She laughed. “It is.”

Maybe for some of us, healing is more of a journey than a moment. I remember sitting in a hospital chemotherapy suite with my mom, seven years ago. I couldn’t comprehend how something that made her so sick could also be healing her. I wanted her healing to be the same as the woman in Mark 5 — for my mom to touch the hem of Jesus and be immediately healed. It ended up looking like chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery. My mother’s healing hurt. 

I think healing often hurts. If your healing is anything like mine, then the spiral metaphor my counsellor gave might ring true for you. Often my healing feels like a spiral, looping round and round, some days feeling right side up, and other days feeling completely upside down. 

But no matter what, I’m healing.

I praise God for the moments of immediate healing, but I’m learning to praise God when healing is slower too. Healing — whether immediate or long — is always a miracle.

It’s a miracle, not just because we are healing, but because Jesus is with us for every second of it. Healing doesn’t mean we revert back to who we were before. We carry those scars and those wounds along with us, even as we heal. Even Jesus, after He entered death and rose again, carried the scars of His past. 

Healing is a miracle because Jesus never makes us do it alone. By His wounds we are healed, His scarred body covering ours, and I am reminded that in every moment of my pain, He was and is with me. 

If your healing journey feels akin to a spiral, know this: Jesus is walking that spiral with you. You are still moving forward. You are healing. 

I love Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of Matthew 11:28-30, of Jesus asking, “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me — watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

We can rest in Jesus, even as we walk through our spiral of healing. We can keep company with Him as we heal, linking arms with Jesus, knowing He’s already gone ahead of us. We are healing because Jesus is with us. 

And no matter what, He’s never letting you go.

Pouring into One Another’s Lives Is a Powerful and Beautiful Thing

by

Waking up the day before my son’s wedding day with a collection of feelings completely at odds with one another took me by surprise. Abounding joy, I had expected; the slight but baffling sense of loss, I had not.

I adored my bonus daughter-to-be. How could I feel anything but happiness for my son to have found a precious wife who loves and complements him in the best of ways? How could I feel even one iota of loss when our family was gaining an amazing human?

Of course I was aware that our family would expand when my son got married, but until the eve of the wedding, it hadn’t entered my mind that our family unit as it had been for twenty-four years would be forever changed. And I certainly didn’t know this would mess with my emotions.

It made zero sense, and bewildered, I struggled to understand my feelings. I was genuinely happy for Thomas and Gina to marry, but to have even a shadow of sadness brought guilt and confusion. Shouldn’t I have anticipated something like this?

I found myself wishing I had been prepared for what I felt, that someone would have warned me that I might wake up a bag of mixed emotions. True, we had thirteen months to get ready for the wedding, but how could I know this was something to know? My dilemma was the kind of thing experience teaches you . . . or, in a sweeter scenario, the kind of thing a friend who’s gone before you can share.

I remember feeling the same way, but for a very different reason, when I received a call from my doctor with news I wasn’t expecting — that I had hit menopause. The new revelation about my health had left me reeling and mournful about something I feel like I should have known but didn’t. I remember thinking, Why didn’t anyone tell me I might feel this way?

Both of these experiences illustrate something important and valuable: We need friends who’ve gone before us to help us navigate the inevitable challenges we’ll face in life, to help prepare us for what comes next, to help us process our complex emotions, and to help us realize what we’re feeling is normal.

I’ve had, and I have, wise and godly friendships with older women. But have I made space truly to learn from them? Have I given them permission to speak freely? Have I invited conversations that allow older friends to share their life experience, even if it’s awkward sometimes?

Equally important, I need to be that older friend for those who are a few steps behind me. By the time you get to the season of life I’m in — a card-carrying empty nester — you’ve done some serious living. I’ve been wedged between rocks and hard places where I couldn’t see my way out. I’ve parented three children who are out on their own and making our world better. I’ve walked through the valley of the shadow of death. I’ve faced success and failure, hardship and adventure, joy and sorrow, plenty and want.

God calls us to be good stewards of what we’ve been given. Earned over time, experience and wisdom often come at great cost, and neither should be wasted. It’s powerful and important to redeem the hardest seasons of our lives by pouring what we’ve learned into one another.

In church, this might fall under a formal women’s ministry, inspired by Titus 2:3-5 —

Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.

But pouring into one another can happen anytime, and it isn’t about perfection or being some sort of “super Christian.” Paul, in instructing Titus about how to train older women to pour into younger women, says it this way in The Passion Translation —

. . . lead them . . . to be teachers of beautiful things (v. 3b)

Isn’t this amazing? As we grow older, we’re called to be teachers of beautiful things. (I love, love, love this!)

Life, with all its challenges and complexities, is still a beautiful thing — maybe even more so because of its challenges and complexities. So ours is a two-fold opportunity:

  • To invite older friends to speak wisdom and truth to us. This means pursuing the kind of godly friendship where trust is developed and conversations happen naturally. There are a few women in my life who might have “warned” me about how I might feel leading up to the wedding or when I faced menopause if I let them know I wanted and needed their wisdom and experience.
  • To pursue friendship with younger women. Regardless of your age, there are women younger in life and faith than you who would benefit from your wisdom and experience. When they’re struggling, take every opportunity to point them to the truth of the gospel and pour out what you’ve learned and experienced. The stories of how God has met you in the midst of difficulty might be exactly what they need to hear.

Had I been pursuing a deeper level of friendship with my older friends or been more intentional about the time we spent together, I could have been more prepared for how I would feel before my son’s wedding. Their insight wouldn’t likely have prevented my mixed emotions, but my feelings wouldn’t have come as a surprise. When it comes to issues women will inevitably face — like my experience with menopause — it is helpful to talk with others who understand and can help you navigate those seasons. And once we walk those roads ourselves, pouring what we’ve learned or experienced into younger friends is a lovely redemption of the struggle.

Season 2, Episode 11: Wear Your Own Shoes, Ignore Imposter Syndrome, and Show Up Fully as Yourself

by

“I’m not enough, and everyone’s going to find out.” Have you ever had a similar thought? Joy and Anna have, and today they talk about how to show fully as your whole, entire self. This is how you’ll have influence. They talk about David and Goliath and how we can work with Jesus to defeat imposter syndrome. Listen below or wherever you stream podcasts!

Bringing another story to us today is (in)courage contributor Tasha Jun, who reads from Week Three of the Courageous Influence Bible Study.

Also, in each episode of this season (today included), you will hear from very special guests Kathi Lipp, Becky Keife, and Grace P. Cho (author of Courageous Influence)!These three friends spent a few days together as they went through the study, and, lucky us, they recorded their conversations so we can all listen in! Find all the Bible Study Mondays posts here and discover for yourself what God says about influence (spoiler alert: you have it! Yes, you!)

Listen to today’s episode below! And be sure to get your copy of the Courageous Influence Bible Study from DaySpring.com!

When You Don’t Think You Can Keep Going, Take the Next Step

by

I laced up my trail shoes and took a deep breath. The delicious aroma of the forest filled me. My eyes lifted, tracing the trunks of pine trees pointing toward heaven. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I anticipated running in a trail race again.

In 2020 and early 2021, most trail and road races were canceled. Because of the global pandemic and a long fire season in California, it had been more than fifteen months since I’d run in an official race.

That’s a long time for me.

You see, running has always been my saving grace. It’s the way I clear my mind and re-center my heart back on God and the truth. It’s the place I preach the gospel back to myself when I’m feeling weary or out of sorts. I generally choose several races a year to train for because the joy is in the training – starting out slow and building up to longer miles. I love working toward a goal and seeing how God meets me with His glory on the journey.

Training outdoors in God’s creation is my favorite soul care, but this year training was rough through the many weeks of horrible air quality due to forest fires. I tried to exercise indoors, but it wasn’t quite the same without the beautiful mountain backdrops. The air was thick and heavy, and the sky was often an apocalyptic pink.

On the morning of the Shadow of the Giants 25k, my heart pulsed with anticipation. It was my fifth time running this race. Returning to this course has always been a marker to reflect on how far God has brought me in this race of life, and He’s always met me in a unique way as my shoes hug the familiar trails.

However, as I followed the camber of the trail at 6,000-feet elevation, I saw trees with blackened trunks. The landscape felt stark and unfamiliar. Whole sections of the forest were open and bare like too much scalp showing after a bad haircut. There was an eerie hush over the land.

Dirt and gravel gave way to sand and tree roots as the trail took a sharp turn upwards. The sun beat down on my shoulders. There were moments when it felt too arduous to even lift my legs, let alone run.

One more step, one more stretch, I kept telling myself. Persevere.

I couldn’t help thinking about how the Shadow of the Giants course mirrored many of our experiences this past year through the pandemic. Just as we rounded one bend and anticipated a little downhill, there was another surprising, sharp uphill to climb.

Perseverance means to persist in spite of difficulty, obstacles, or discouragement we might encounter.

The Bible talks a lot about perseverance and how it is a key ingredient to growing our faith. Hebrews 12:1 says, “And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”

It’s easy to focus on our shortcomings and disappointments, but Hebrews 12 reminds us where we need to fix our eyes — on Jesus. He’s the pioneer, the trail blazer, our pacer for life.

I have learned on my journey that the best way to navigate grief, to tackle impossible assignments, and to face tough conversations is to take the next step, and then the next.

When you’re tired of getting up in the morning for that same job, persevere.

When you’re discouraged about your child struggling in school, persevere.

When you have pandemic fatigue and you’re tired of all the protocols and decisions, persevere.

When you’re navigating another health challenge, persevere.

Friend, I know some of you are tempted to give up right about now. You are bone-weary and frustrated. You are staring up another uphill climb and wondering if it will ever get easier. Let me encourage you to persevere.

Notice Hebrews 12:1 does not say to bootstrap your way to the finish line. It doesn’t say push yourself so hard that you neglect much needed rest. It doesn’t say to try to find the shortest or easiest possible route. It says to run with perseverance after Jesus.

Romans 5:3-5 reminds us what perseverance produces:

We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

Did you catch that?

Perseverance produces character and leads us down the path to hope.

Jesus persevered up a huge hill to die on a cross in our place. Three days later, He rose from the grave. He is our example of perseverance that regenerates hope.

I’m not going to lie. Those last few miles in the Shadow of the Giants race were hard. They changed the course because of some construction on the road, and it threw me off. At one point, I imagined myself dropping to the ground and crawling to the finish line. The struggle was real.

And then suddenly, my feet found a familiar road flanked by glorious trees that led to the finish line. I came full circle on the path that reminded me His glory still persists. And though the trail was much harder than I anticipated, I found the work of perseverance had paid off and hope filled me to keep going.

Dorina’s devotional book and training journal, Walk Run Soar, turns 1-year-old today! Sign up for her Glorygram newsletter and get all the insider details about her book and new podcast, “Eat Pray Run”.

When You Could Use a Navigation App for Your Life

by

Please proceed to the route . . . 
Please proceed! To the route!
Please! Proceed! To! The route!
Rerouting . . .

And then, radio silence.

This was what I heard several times during my family vacation this past summer. My husband, two daughters, and I drove from Missouri to the Grand Canyon. And much to the chagrin of the robot inside my phone (as we referred to the navigation app), we did not always stay on the prescribed course during our travels.

Between pulling out of our driveway and finally returning home several days later, we drove about 3,000 miles through seven states. For the most part, it was smooth sailing. My husband is a truck driver who had studied the map before we left, so he knew which highways we needed to take and all the exits we couldn’t miss. The trouble came when we arrived at our destination and wanted to explore. More than once, we missed a turn or decided we knew better or didn’t hear the instructions being read from the phone — and that’s when we heard it.

Please proceed to the route . . . 
Please proceed! To the route!
Please! Proceed! To! The route!
Rerouting . . .

Sometimes I would have sworn the app was angry with us. Though I’m well aware “her” voice is simply the product of a computer program and not actually a sentient robot talking to us, the pleas to proceed to the route seemed, at times, exasperated. It was as if our robotic navigator was really saying, “Get back on track, please. I said to get back on course! Hello! PEOPLE. Are you listening? Turn that minivan around before you get lost!”

If we veered too far off course, we eventually got the silent treatment from the phone. We’d hear a click (a robot’s version of a sigh, surely) and then . . . nothing. We’d finally done it. We’d gone too far down our own path and even the maps app was giving up on us.

My family was so tickled by this and laughed a lot as we figured out how to get where we wanted to go. But it’s not so amusing when the destination and the journey are less tangible and more personal.

Sometimes the road to reaching our goals, to staying within God’s guidelines for what’s best, for “smooth sailing” seems obvious. It’s right in front of us, paved and pointed to by Scripture or a still, small voice, by mentors or past experience or even common sense. The best course is simple, straightforward, and if we squint our eyes just right, we can see the finish line from here.

But most of the time it’s not that easy. More often than not, we’re just as likely to get off course as my family on a cross-country vacation. Perhaps we miss a turn and don’t realize we needed to make a change until it seems too late. Maybe we hear the directions but decide another way seems more interesting or more efficient or more fun. Or maybe we don’t hear the directions at all and no matter how hard we strain our senses in an effort to find answers, we come up empty and unsure.

Sometimes it would be awfully nice if we could open an app on our phones to tell us which job to apply for, how to handle our child’s diagnosis, what to say to our spouse in the middle of the same argument we keep having. Who hasn’t wished for a robotic voice (or any voice!) to give exact instructions when facing a health crisis or budget problems or a complicated friendship?

We don’t have to pick up our phones (or Google or poll our friends or wish on a star) to navigate through our lives. We simply have to ask God for help.

James 1:5 says, “If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you” (NLT). And Jesus tells us in the book of Matthew to continue asking for what we need until we receive it.

Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.
Matthew 7:7-8 (NLT)

Keep on asking. Even when you take a wrong turn or misunderstand His guidance or can’t figure out which way is up (or north). Even when you intentionally take a left when He’s told you to go right. Even when you feel like you should know the answer or when it seems as if everyone else knows exactly what to do and how to do it. Keep on asking.

And our loving Heavenly Father will not only give us the wisdom and guidance we need when we need it, but He also will do it with patience. He’ll never get exasperated with us for needing help, for messing up, for feeling confused. When He tells us to proceed to the route He’s designed, He won’t grow increasingly frustrated like I imagined my phone did. And He certainly won’t go silent when it takes us a while to respond or learn or make that U-turn.

Are you lost? Confused or unsure? Driving in circles, passing the same landmark over and over again, unable to get back to the main highway (metaphorically speaking, of course)? God will help you. He will guide you and show you the way. All you have to do is ask.

Cry out for insight,
and ask for understanding.
Search for them as you would for silver;
seek them like hidden treasures.
Then you will understand what it means to fear the Lord,
and you will gain knowledge of God.
For the Lord grants wisdom!
From his mouth come knowledge and understanding.
Proverbs 2:3-6 (NLT)

What Do You Do When It Feels Like God Has Abandoned You?

by

My heart pounded as I drove home, too crushed to cry or scream. When I got home, I headed straight to our bedroom, grabbed my Bible off the nightstand, marched to the kitchen, and threw it in the trashcan on top of the morning coffee grounds.

My appointment, a second opinion, wasn’t supposed to end this way. I had prayed and pleaded together with a trusted group of girlfriends. With all my faith, I believed God could, that He would, give me a miracle. Doctors make mistakes. The first diagnosis must be wrong. We heard the baby’s heartbeat last month. Maybe the ultrasound tech had simply missed it this time. But instead of celebrating the miracle we prayed for, our loss was confirmed. All the air was sucked out of the room. How could this be? Where was my miracle?

Immediately, I began to doubt everything I believed. I’d been in church my entire life. Youth groups and church camps had been a childhood staple. As an adult, I’d served on worship teams, volunteered for countless activities, and led Bible studies. God was supposed to love and care for His children. How was allowing agony and heartbreak signs of a loving God? Questions began to swirl:

Where had I gone wrong?
What had I missed?
Were they right? Was my faith too small for God to show up?
How small is a mustard seed again? Surely I had prayed with more faith than that!

How do you come to accept God’s will when it’s the opposite of your own? When it feels like your faith is hanging on by a thin, frayed thread, how do you find the courage to move on? What do you do when it feels like God has abandoned you?

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reconcile how God could ignore my desperate pleas. I was His daughter. Didn’t He love me? Didn’t Psalms say if you delight in the Lord, He’ll give you the desires of your heart? Isn’t there a verse about where two or more are gathered, He is in the midst of them? I had gathered a strong group of prayer warriors. Still our efforts seemed in vain.

It’s easy to love God when things are going well, hands lifted high, remembering His faithfulness. The true test comes when life hits you full force causing your knees to buckle as your world shatters. It’s then that you discover you only have two options: You can either cling to your feelings of despair or His promises of hope. It’s hard to set your emotions aside for the sake of truth. You feel utterly alone, abandoned, yet His word reminds us, “I will never leave you or forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6b).

My body healed quickly from the miscarriage, but my soul took much longer. Tears that initially wouldn’t come now had no end. I found safety in the cocoon of my bed, spending hours, even days there. Calls went unanswered. My Bible, rescued by my husband and stained from my coffee and tantrum, remained unopened across the room. Thankfully, a sweet friend came to my rescue. For months, she tenderly cared for me, listening when I needed to talk, inviting me to coffee, crying with me as I mourned. When words failed me, she prayed. During my darkest days, when the sadness and despair were all-consuming, her love carried me.

When you’re in the eye of the storm, it’s hard to feel God’s nearness. Chaos swirls all around while God seems distant at best. Yet, when we look back, through a less-distorted lens, we’re able to see His love and faithfulness,  His constant presence providing for our needs, holding us close, and comforting us.

I couldn’t see it then, but years later God’s fingerprints throughout that season were obvious. He saw every tear I cried. He lovingly cared for me through my friend’s presence and actions. His grace allowed me to be angry enough to throw His Word and promises away. Still, He loved me. Like a loving father, God doesn’t always give us what we want, and sometimes what He allows feels confusing and cruel.

Over time, my pride and brokenness revealed themselves, and I recognized my need to surrender. I wrongly believed I’d checked enough boxes along the way to earn my miracle. God doesn’t work that way. His “no” was not the result of me missing the mark or not having enough faith. His love is unconditional, rooted in grace. We can’t earn it, and we can’t lose it either.

God’s goodness isn’t dependent on me. It’s not a result of anything I’ve done or didn’t do. He is good because He’s God. Period.

Are you in a similar season? Have you prayed with every fiber of your being only to be met with an answer you find hard to accept? Do you feel unheard, unseen, and unloved by your Heavenly Father?

In the middle of the soul-crushing disappointment, overwhelming heartbreak, and sense of abandonment, God is still right there. Perhaps He’s carrying you or maybe He’s in the background working out the details or He could be preparing the way for you. One thing I know for certain: He has never left me. He never will. He has never left you, and He won’t start now.

Rest in Order to Be Restored and Ready for What’s to Come

by

For the long Labor Day weekend, our family headed to the beach where we had been invited by friends to join them. I was grateful and wanted to be excited about spending a few days away at the beach, but reaching for rest required effort I was too tired to put forth. With project deadlines looming, a to-do list growing, and a demanding daily life, I resolved that while my family played along the ocean, I would sit on the sand and work.

But my body rejected my resolution. When we arrived at the beach house, I physically felt as though I was bearing the weight of a massive boulder on my head, neck, shoulders, and chest. The thought of finishing a book chapter or editing a blog post or even reading an email seemed to deplete what little of me that remained. I was too exhausted to push past the fatigue. My body gave me no choice. I had to press pause, be present in rest, and trust that everything under my charge — including my children — would be cared for. I scraped the depths of my reservoir to muster some gratitude and reminded myself:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down . . . (Psalms 23:2 KJV)

He made me stop. He made me retreat. He made me sit in a beach chair and stare at the ocean.

And I complied. The warm weather welcomed me. The ocean tides danced back and forth as if to say, “Hi, sister! We are so glad you decided to join us!” The sound of the waves crashing and splashing was hypnotic, like a distraction designed to soothe a busy mind. The wind whooshed and swished around my ears with loud whispers of glorious affirmations:

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I don’t have to fear the fear spewed at me through social media. Because God is with me, I am comforted.

My life-giving reservoir is so full that it overflows into the lives of those around me, especially my family.

Because I am flanked by goodness and mercy, I don’t have to be anxious about anything, not even my children’s well-being.

As I sat soaking in the harmony of the ocean, sun, and wind, restoration had her way with me. The weight seemed to dissipate. I was revived by the sun’s rays. As I immersed myself in the salt water, fresh cuts and wounds from piercing arrows washed away. While wading among the waves, I fully extended my hands to surrender mind, body, and spirit to restoration’s plan. I felt resurrected, alive again. I exhaled a smile of relief.

Meanwhile, the teenage daughters of our two families had spent a few hours together away from us parents. When we met them back at the beach house, I was met with wide-eyed faces, anxious to tell me about something that had occurred. My daughter proceeded to tell me that they had been walking along the road when a black pickup truck full of teenage White boys revved the engine at them, chased them, and yelled out the N-word! Frightened, our daughters ran and hid among the tall grass.

I was in shock. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even make a sound or form a facial expression. I was simultaneously frozen with grief as my soul seemed to implode and collapse in on itself. The weight that my body had just released at the beach reaffixed itself to my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I went to a corner, sat in a rocking chair, and literally rocked myself. I was trying to make sense of it all. I had just experienced relief from what felt like crushing weight only to have it flung like a boomerang back to me. I had always hoped that my children would only ever read about this type of overt interpersonal racist bigotry but never experience it.

In the days that followed, I was left wondering if I had not surrendered to restoration, would my daughter’s experience have crushed me? If I had not listened to my body’s request for rest, not allowed restoration to have her way, and had refused nature’s invitation to play, I might have been broken by the incident. And in my brokenness, I might have acted impulsively — I wanted to find that black truck and retaliate, pack up immediately and get my family out of that town, or set something on fire! Instead, I reflected on His promise to always keep and be with my children.

I am grateful that He made me lie down, even when I was being defiant and tried to delay rest. I know that rest is essential to our design. But prior to this incident, I’d only thought of rest as a break from our weekly rhythms or a pause in our efforts to build a better something. But in rest, we not only recover from what was, restoration fortifies us for what is to come. He makes us lie down so that when life knocks us down, we can get back up.

How Will We Use Our Words? To Heal or To Destroy?

by

I still remember where we were standing. My bare feet were sticking slightly to her linoleum floor as we talked in the doorway of her family’s kitchen. There’s only one part of that conversation that I still hear clearly in my memory now. She told me that someone described me as “boring Tasha.”

That day, I shrugged the comment off because I didn’t know how else to respond. It was a little comment. My good friend didn’t have mean intentions in telling me what was said, but those words stuck. The description of “boring” knocked on the door of my heart, and I let it move in and unpack its bags.

The words that we let fall from our mouths have power. James describes the tongue like the rudder of a ship or a wild animal that must be tamed in James 3:3-6:

When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal. Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go. Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

Those simple words shared by my friend directed the way I viewed myself from behind the scenes of my life for years after that seemingly insignificant moment.

That was over twenty years ago.

It’s taken Jesus’ relentless pursuit of my heart — days that turned into years of reading my Bible and living in community with others who spoke truth and grace to me — to believe what’s actually true about who I am. What’s actually true couldn’t be further from the word “boring.” You and I are masterpieces, created by the God who made the galaxies and the beautiful cluster of stormy, sea-blue irises that bloom outside my window every spring.

What if the words you casually said today stuck with someone for the next twenty years or more, wrapping around them like a set of caged bars and hindering how they move forward in the world from this day on? Or what if the words you intentionally spoke today stuck with someone and set them free to move into the places God purposed for them to be with courage, confidence, and conviction?

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.
Ephesians 4:15-16 (ESV)

Some of us need to put into practice taking words and thoughts captive before we speak them or keep them.

Some of us need to learn to speak up and say the words God meant for us to speak: words of truth that affirm the Imago Dei in every one of us. Not speaking up when we should is just as dangerous as speaking when we shouldn’t. Proverbs 16:24 says, “Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”

Our world continues to bear the weight and impact of a global pandemic along with all the pain and injustice of systemic racism. We are all facing loss, uncertainty, and exhaustion. In light of that, let’s be people who remember that our words wield great power. God meant for each of us to speak words of truth, sandwiched between grace and love. In a time of great need, our words have the power to soothe thirsty souls and heal the fractured bones of our land.

How Cooking Is Holy Ground to Experience God

by

A rollicking Bollywood number bounced jauntily between the aisles. I navigated around the giant jute bags filled with basmati and idli rice, breathing in that quintessential Indian market aroma: spice, sweetness, and earth, wound in a ribbon of incense.

The owner, Vibha, a petite, long-haired lady, with high cheekbones and deep dimples, scanned her khol-rimmed eyes over the shelves, looking for anything out of place. She’d transformed the store from a quiet mart with flickering fluorescent lights into a radiant, bustling market, complete with a kitchen from which emerged the crispiest samosas and a jackfruit curry I still can’t forget. Vibha has been my staunch supporter, talking me through Indian cooking techniques when I was stumped and even providing spices when I cooked for my cookbook release party. I walked over and gave her a hug.

I peeked over her shoulder, taking in the hubbub of the kitchen.

“Wait a minute, Aunty,” I said (In Indian culture, every elder is referred to as “aunty” or “uncle” whether or not you share a bloodline). “None of the people cooking your food are Indian!”

“Yes!” Vibha beamed proudly. “I’ve taught them everything — how to make chutney, dosas, everything! I even taught them to pray before they cook!”

The last part stopped me in my tracks. “You do what before you cook?”

Vibha looked at me as if I’d lost my head. “Ya, of course! I always pray before I cook. Don’t you?”

Thanks to Vibha, I’ve never looked at cooking the same way again.

I began to pray before I cooked. What once felt like a chore was now an exquisite unwinding. That first slice of an onion began to feel like slipping into a warm bath, every muscle relaxing, every breath deepening. My senses were on fire: the specific sizzle of a steak when it’s ready to be flipped, the aroma of spices blooming in hot oil, the almost blinding neon of freshly chopped herbs. Prayer painted my cooking in technicolor.

I was ravenous now, looking for more of the sacred in the kitchen. Flipping through a book on Ayurveda, the ancient Indian system of medicine, I learned that not only is food our medicine but also its preparation. Chopping vegetables is a moving meditation, soothing our minds and bodies. God tucked medicine even into the mundane. No shade on pre-chopped vegetables, but consider what we’re missing when we don’t do it ourselves. We save ourselves time, but are we cheating ourselves out of healing?

A terrible condition has now become the norm in our kitchens: Dinner must be made in thirty minutes and consumed in even less time. At the same time, we feel stressed, anxious, and disconnected from our loved ones and from God. I remember watching my grandmother cook at our farm in Mangalore, India. It took hours — soaking the lentils, building the fire, toasting the spices, grinding the masala (spice paste) on the ragado (giant grinding stone). It was so ding dang slow. And yet, so much opportunity to “be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

I may not have my grandmother’s cooking schedule, but I do have time to pray. Prayer necessitates stopping, breathing, stepping out of the hurry of the day. Consecrating my cooking time puts me in a state of gratitude, counting my blessings instead of my woes. It refocuses my heart and melts my anxieties.

Perhaps my greatest motivation to seek the sacred in the kitchen is this: Jesus cooked! Our Lord, in His resurrected body, made His disciples breakfast. Heaven came down, stoked the coals, scaled the fish, and used all His senses, His humanity, to nourish His friends’ stomachs and hearts.

We see in this small act, the core of the Sacred Heart — creation and generosity. Jesus created a meal and shared with His friends. God created the world, and He shared it with us.

Thus, cooking is an invitation to join God in the joy of creation. We’re made in His image, after all. So the thrill of peeling away the hairy skin of a celeriac to reveal its ivory flesh, the happy scent of a freshly cut lemon — He programmed those moments of delight into every creation. This is His delight too, and perhaps it sheds light on God’s delight in creating us.

What a privilege it is to cook, dear hearts! What a magical portal to touch the untouchable, the sacred!

It’s such a kindness, and it’s just like God to say, Nothing you do is beyond My touch. Invite Me into the process, and just as Moses removed his sandals before the burning bush, you’ll realize that you’ve been standing on holy ground the whole time. Perhaps that’s what Paul meant when he wrote the verse that I keep in my kitchen:

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all for the glory of God.”
1 Corinthians 10:31 (ESV)

The simple act of praying showed me that I’d been missing out on the blessings God tucked into the act of preparing food. And if there is holiness in the kitchen, I’d wager there’s probably holiness in the laundry room or in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Inviting Jesus into my kitchen has convinced me of this truth: A taste of heaven is in every earthly bite. 

Behind The Simple Difference

by

Friends, we’ve got something super special for you today. Our friend, team member, and author Becky Keife sat down with Anna E. Rendell for a conversation all about her new book, The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact, and we recorded it for you! Take a watch and learn more about this oh-so-timely new book from Becky. We know you’ll be blessed by it.

Becky’s new book, The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact, will help you see more of the people in front of you, more of God’s lavish love for you, and more of His power within you. Becky reminds us that even small acts can make a difference. Together our simple, consistent, intentional acts of kindness can create waves of change.

The Simple Difference is available wherever books are sold. We’re so excited for this book to be in your hands!

Want to start reading now? Get a FREE sample chapter!

The Shift That Occurs When We Choose Not to Be Offended

by

He sat in the treatment room with a blank stare like he didn’t want to be there. I asked him question after question, but he barely gave me a response and refused to make eye contact. It was time for balance testing, but he didn’t want to try — “I am not doing that!” I wonder if he was able to sense my frustration, because after a while he said, “Don’t be offended — it’s not you!”

As he sat slouched staring at the wall, I responded gently but firmly, “I am not offended. I have been a physical therapist for over eleven years. You are not the first person that wasn’t happy to see me, and I don’t take that personally. I can’t imagine what it is like for you to live with your diagnosis, but I want to help you. And these tests show me where you need help.”

In that moment, something shifted within him. His whole demeanor changed. For the remainder of our session, he participated and even made jokes. He attended his therapy appointments every week, and we had great conversations.

All it took was that moment when I made the choice not to be offended. His attitude toward me that first day was offensive, and I was truly getting frustrated. I could have easily given him poor care, labeling him as a non-compliant or unmotivated patient, but in that moment I chose to see the person in front of me rather than what I felt or assumed about him. Here was a man that was just ten years older than me whose life had drastically changed because of a diagnosis. My forty-five minute interaction with him was just part of his story, not his whole story, so I chose to listen and understand rather than be offended.

In today’s world, many of us can be so easily offended and quick to label other people, causing us to distance ourselves from them. It is an epidemic that is killing authentic community among us today. Often the enemy will keep us offended, even with small things, so that we miss out on having genuine love for each other.

In Mark 6, we see Jesus in His hometown teaching at the local synagogue. Many were amazed at His wisdom. But there were some that saw Him as “Mary’s son, a carpenter,” and these folks were offended by Jesus. His own people labeled Him and missed out on seeing that the Messiah was in front of them. Mark goes on to tell us that Jesus could not do any miracles there except to heal a few sick people. Jesus was not limited nor did He lack power. Rather He chose not to work miracles because they chose to be offended. They missed out.

Offense is birthed out of pride and breeds hatred. When we choose to be offended, we close the door to relationships and block the healing we could receive.

There will be plenty of opportunities for offense where our pain will cause us to burn a bridge and put up a wall. Relationships carry the risk of offending us because conflict is inevitable. But when we choose not to be offended, we get the opportunity to be Jesus for those around us. As Christians, we are called to be agents of reconciliation which means we are people marked by grace and love. This is hard to do because people are hard to love. This is why the Bible has to instruct us on how we ought to engage with each other because our natural inclination will be to choose self-preservation. We must be people who choose not to be offended. And the only way we can do that is by remembering the grace and love Jesus demonstrated on the cross.

He did not retaliate when he was insulted,
nor threaten revenge when he suffered.
He left his case in the hands of God,
who always judges fairly.
He personally carried our sins
in his body on the cross
so that we can be dead to sin
and live for what is right.
By his wounds
you are healed.
1 Peter 2:23-24 (NLT)

People will hurt us, offense will come, but we are called to “live for what is right.” Jesus modeled how to do that for us, and His Holy Spirit empowers us to practice rebellious empathy and mercy just like Him.

Season 2, Episode 10: What Do You Mean IF I Can?

by

“I believe. Help me in my unbelief.” Have you ever heard this phrase from Scripture? Anna and Joy felt this one hard this week, along with the time Jesus said, “What do you mean if I can?”. They talk about Mary (Jesus’ mother) getting the news of a lifetime, what we can learn about obedience from her, and what it means to give God our willing yes. Anna shares a story from a difficult part of her life and what God did with her willing yes to share that story with others. Listen below or wherever you stream podcasts!

Bringing another story to us today is (in)courage contributor Robin Dance, who reads from Week Two of the Courageous Influence Bible Study.

Also, in each episode of this season (today included), you will hear from very special guests Kathi Lipp, Becky Keife, and Grace P. Cho (author of Courageous Influence)!These three friends spent a few days together as they went through the study, and, lucky us, they recorded their conversations so we can all listen in. Find all the Bible Study Mondays posts here and discover for yourself what God says about influence. (Spoiler alert: you have it! Yes, you!)

Listen to today’s episode below! And be sure to get your copy of the Courageous Influence Bible Study from DaySpring.com.

The Hope of God’s Steadfast Goodness

by

This is why I wait upon you, expecting your breakthrough,
for your word brings me hope.
Psalm 130:5 (TPT)

With the state of the world, it’s hard to wrap our minds around the goodness of God and suffering around the globe. The next level is trying to understand God’s goodness in relation to our own hardships or those of our loved ones.

Context is key, and perspective is everything.

My life has been no walk in the park. I was born into hard circumstances. I was born into all manner of dysfunction and sinful living. I was neglected and abused. Trauma was my existence.

But God.

He came in as the rescuer that He is and rescued me. He didn’t rescue me from my circumstances as much as He rescued me within them. He saved my heart and soul and mind from the enemy. He saved me from myself. Where I am today is only because of His grace and mercy.

A friend recently told me that I had every reason to run from God, but I chose to run toward Him and let Him use my life for His glory. I cried tears of awe and gratitude. It was His goodness that drew me in when I was in college. It was His goodness that held me in hard times over the last two decades. It is His goodness that reminds me that He will continue to be faithful in the days ahead.

If I’m not vigilant, the noise and brokenness of this world can distract me from God’s character. My focus can easily become fixed on everything that’s wrong instead of the God that is right.

But there are a million and one ways that God displays His goodness. Psalm 130 highlights a few of them:

Lord, if you measured us and marked us with our sins,
who would ever have their prayers answered?
But your forgiving love is what makes you so
wonderful.
No wonder you are loved and worshiped!
Psalm 130:3-4 (TPT)

The very nature of God is holy and righteous, and He literally cannot be in the presence of sin. Then there’s us — fallen humanity. When Adam and Eve sinned, it separated us from God’s presence, but it never separated us from His love. The amazing thing about God is that He had a contingency plan. He had Jesus. Before He laid the foundations of the world, He knew we would go astray. And He made a way for us to be restored back to relationship with Him.

He bows down low to hear our prayers. And He always answers, although it may not be in our timing or the answer we wanted. He extends mercy to sinners and those that are working out their salvation. He forgives and He forgets.

This is why I wait upon you, expecting your breakthrough,
for your word brings me hope.
Psalm 130:5 (TPT)

His faithfulness is just that — faithful. He is the God who doesn’t change. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). His Word is flawless and speaks life to weary souls. It brings hope and breakthrough about the future. His kindness leads us to repentance, and His gentleness invites us to come boldly before His throne of grace. He would and did pay the highest price for our redemption.

When times get tough for me or for my community, I want to plant my feet firmly on the truth of God’s Word and what I have experienced of Him.

I have experienced nothing short of God’s unconditional love, extravagant grace, and unrelenting goodness. His goodness is real and steadfast. It’s for me. It’s for you. It’s for the world.

Lord, thank You for Your faithfulness in my life. You are the same yesterday, today, and forever. I can trust You because You never change. Thank You for that gift! Help me run to You instead of away from You when things get tough. Amen.