Episode 15: Courageous Kindness, Right Where You Are

Episode 15: Courageous Kindness, Right Where You Are

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

This season, (in)courage and DaySpring team members Anna and Joy talk their way through the Courageous Kindness Bible study. Each week, you’ll hear their stories and conversations, along with an excerpt of the Bible study read by author Becky Keife. Also, every episode features a selection from the companion Bible Study videos! These video discussions feature (in)courage writers Lucretia Berry and Grace P. Cho alongside Becky, and they offer us a seat beside them in the living room as they go through Courageous Kindness together.

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

Listen to today’s episode below or wherever you stream podcasts! Get your copy of the Courageous Kindness Bible study from DaySpring.com, and be sure and subscribe to the (in)courage podcast so you don’t miss a single episode!

How Retelling Our Stories Can Bring Healing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

How to Find Rest When Wounds Surface Uninvited

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This forced physical rest created soul unrest.

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

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

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

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

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

Could this forced physical rest be transformed into soul rest?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What We Can Learn About Change and Hope from a Pearl

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Courageous Kindness Right Where You Are

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

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

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

Reading Assignment

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

Discussion Video

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

Quote of the Week

Keep this quote in mind as you read Week 1:

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

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

Reflection Questions

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

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

Let’s Pray Together

Father, thank You for loving me right where I am no matter what I’ve done. Thank You for filling in the gaps of my poor choices, defensiveness, and sarcasm with Your grace. Help me to understand the depth of Your love for me. Empower me to show that same love and kindness to the neighbors inside and outside my own walls today. Amen.

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

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

When Your Soul Is a Hot Mess

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer for Those Going Through Difficult Change

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I remember with stark clarity a time several years ago when our family sat staring at changes on every front. The kids were neck deep in school and activities. David was going through a job transition that took its own sweet time unfolding. As I wrote my first book, I dealt with tricky relationships. Much of what went on behind the scenes managed to culminate before we took our annual summer trip to visit family in Oklahoma. I remember being so haggard on that trip, completing the simplest task or request felt impossible. When we arrived to my in-laws’ lake house on Grand Lake, I sputtered through the front door with my suitcase in one hand and my daughter’s in the other. Sliding them into a corner of the entryway, I then plopped myself down on one of the bar stools.

At that point, my mother-in-law, who stood in the kitchen kindly making sandwiches for us all, asked me if I wanted a ham or turkey sandwich. I blinked and stared at her like she asked me to explain differential equations. I opened my mouth and stuttered, “Uh . . . umm . . . well . . . I’ll have . . . umm . . . ham.” Then I exhaled as if I’d just taken an exam on differential equations.

It’s worth mentioning that even when I’m hanging in there just fine, I have no idea how to solve a differential equation.

Sometimes a season of change will come on you, and you’re too thrown or floored or overwhelmed by your circumstances to form sentences, let alone sentences within prayers. You sputter and stutter like you’ve forgotten how to talk, like the simplest endeavors are suddenly difficult equations.

If that’s you today, first of all, I’m so sorry. What you’re going through is no small thing, and I hope you have a loved one with whom you can share your inside thoughts on the outside. And second of all, I offer up this prayer to you as some words to say when you’re at a loss for words yourself.

Dear Heavenly Father,

As I sit in this difficult change, remind me that nothing gets through the door of my life and the door of my heart without Your say so.

Bring me comfort right now through Your presence, gleaned from the Word and through the words of others, and speak to me through them, Lord. 

When I feel disoriented, give me an anchored verse to repeat, such as “I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” 

When I feel lonely, show up for me in ways that can’t be explained except by You moving in my life.

When I feel anxious, help me to know that through even this, You are faithful. Help me recall all the ways You’ve been for me in the past and how You are for me still today.

Lord, you’ve seen me through 100% of all my former change, and I know You’ll see me through this one too.

When this change affects me directly, show me the next thing I can do. I will get through this change by doing only the next thing within my assignment: stirring the soup, picking up the kids, paying the bills, or taking a nap.

When this change affects a loved one of mine, show me how I can sit with them and support them.

Lord, I am powerless, yet I know there is power in this very prayer. You tell us that we can go to Your throne to find mercy and receive grace in our time of need. Well, this is my time of need, and I am reflecting obedience to You by coming to You now.

Help me to know when it’s time for me to act and when it’s time for me to sit and wait upon You.

Lord, I pray that the storm from this change be removed. But if it’s Your will for me to walk through it, I thank You that You go with me.

Thank you also that You raise up good things from impossible circumstances.

Come what may, I trust You to see me all the way through.

In Jesus’ name, whose resurrection assures me You always raise up hope,

Amen

Want more encouragement as you walk through difficult change? Get your copy of When Change Finds You: 31 Assurances to Settle Your Heart When Life Stirs You Up.

How Coloring Outside the Lines Leads Me to Jesus

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My right hand clutched the blue crayon so tightly, my fingertips turned from pink to white. I don’t remember what the picture was, but I remember how I wanted to do a good job coloring it. I started slowly, coloring along the black line of whatever empty shape or picture was on the page. I noticed the boy sitting next to me was almost done, and instinctively, I sped up. When I did, the blue color started leaking past the lines with loud squeaking noises. The boy next to me looked at my page and announced, “That looks horrible! You’re not supposed to color outside the lines like that, Tasha!”

Another classmate responded to the boy sitting next to me by saying, “It doesn’t matter, and it’s no big deal. It looks great.” Maybe he saw how hard I’d been trying.

I looked from one boy to the other, wondering who I should believe. One was a voice of judgment and shame, the other, a voice of grace that believed my coloring could grow and change with time.

I’ve never been great at coloring in the lines. For much of my life, I believed there were hard lines I needed to keep myself contained in so I could force myself to be the phantom student, daughter, wife, mother, friend, writer, fill-in-the-blank I was “supposed” to be.

When I starting working in full-time ministry overseas right out of college, I wanted to make sure I fit into the lines of excellent missionary, cross-cultural superstar, language learner, teammate, and friend.

When my husband and I first got married, I was intent on becoming the best wife I could be. I planned to read all the books, imitate godly women, and make sure I was “coloring in the lines” at all times. A friend told me about a book she read the year before on how to be an “excellent wife.” Inspired by Proverbs 31, the book walked through characteristics that an excellent wife would have.

I didn’t get very far in that book. Barely through chapter two, I closed it and threw it across the room. At that point, I hadn’t heard or studied the context of the poem that Proverbs 31 is. I didn’t know it was an acrostic poem originally memorized by men, that personified wisdom, not a phantom woman.

In each of these scenarios, I was that little girl in a classroom again, holding that crayon as tightly as possible, ready to will myself to be what I thought I was supposed to be, ever-aware of how far I had to go by other’s (often wrong) standards, and constantly failing my own expectations no matter how hard I tried not to.

At every transition and every daybreak, there are voices and narratives to listen to. I’ve clung to the harsher voices because they carry an illusion of safety. I’ve feared that too much grace would let me run astray — so far outside of the lines that I would be lost forever. But God says grace is abundant, not scarce. It is given unreservedly, never earned. Pride is its enemy, not the failure to measure up. It isn’t license to personal preferences and liberty; it is the gateway to living motivated by love and loving others freely because of it.

There’s no hope for transformation without the unlimited space of Jesus’ grace.

The world still feels tense most days. I’m struggling to navigate changed relationships and places that aren’t what they were before. Photo memories pop up on my phone at just the right time, cruelly reminding me how much has changed. I sense tightened, readied fists in people’s words (my own included) — on social media, while driving on the highway, and in the narrow aisles of the grocery store down the street where my cart and kids are taking up what feels like too much space. I feel the constant temptation to point my finger at the people who I think are “the problem” driving in the round-a-bouts or just a few rows over at church.

In elementary school and now on the edge of midlife, if I listen to the spirit of little boy who shamed me, I become someone who carries shame and delivers what I carry. If I listen to the voice of Jesus with a crayon in His hand, I become another presence of grace, motivated to keep going, to keep learning from my experiences and my mistakes.

Becoming an excellent [fill in the blank] may be a goal for some, but it’s fast dead-end for me. Gazing at Jesus, the ultimate One with enough excellent love to go around, is a better way. Jesus takes what is weak and uses it as a vessel for His unmatchable strength. Jesus pursues the un-excellent and makes beauty from what I’d choose to throw away. Jesus takes our coloring-outside-the-lines to show us our need for Him. Jesus guides our tired hands toward good and tells us we are His beloved, who can do nothing less and nothing more to be offered His living water of ever-flowing grace.

On Hitting Walls, Being Vulnerable, and the Power of Praise

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I won’t sugarcoat the last few months. They’ve been hard. In some ways, I can pinpoint what’s made them so hard — funerals, family drama, extreme fatigue and pain in my body. On the other hand, there have been many days when I’ve woken up with a sense of dread for no reason. I’ve battled severe anxiety and depression. Fear has gripped me unlike any other time in my life. I’ve felt hopeless and on edge.

Do you know who I told about all the things? Absolutely no one.

Now, I love people. Community is my jam. And I know we’re better together. But I have a confession: More often than I care to admit it, I find myself living as an island. I suffer in silence. I have this need for people to think I can handle anything, that I can take care of myself by myself. I don’t want them to think I’m needy. I don’t do this intentionally. I’ve just always lived this way and have been slow in growing to express my need for God or others.

Though the Lord is working on me with this, I recently fell into isolation, avoidance, and withdrawal again. I completely shut down. I was overwhelmed in every way, and I couldn’t help myself. Before I knew it, it had been months since I’d talked to dear friends. In my everyday and at church, I was simply going through the motions.

I eventually hit a wall and broke down. I knew I needed to be honest with God and with the people in my life. I knew I needed to be vulnerable, even though I have the nagging fear that if I’m 100 percent forthcoming, I won’t be accepted or loved. I’m sure many of you face the same fears — of being left alone and rejected — and shame keeps us in an unending loop of insecurity.

At church, my pastor has been preaching on the power of praise and how the body of Christ needs each other. For months, I had been listening and taking notes, but I felt disconnected to the truths of God’s Word because I was focusing on my circumstances. But slowly, God has been lifting the veil to help me see His goodness, kindness, and faithfulness again, and as He did, I saw I had been missing the very things that I had been learning through my pastor’s sermons.

First, I learned that praise ushers in breakthrough.

Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One;
    you are the one Israel praises.
Psalm 22:3 (NIV)

In Psalm 22, David reminds us that the God of the universe, the God of you and me, inhabits our very praises. He doesn’t just sit up high upon His throne in judgment of us. No, He comes down low to meet us. He meets us in our mess, in our shame, and in whatever pit we find ourselves. He sees us and rushes in with His mighty right arm to save us.

Praise becomes the difference in staying stuck and breaking through. It changes our perspective from what we can do in our own strength to what God can do in His. And praising in the context of community can change the atmosphere of our hearts and even the world around us.

Second, I learned that praise is a choice.

To you they cried out and were saved;
    in you they trusted and were not put to shame.
Psalm 22:5 (NIV)

David was in a low and discouraging time in His life. He felt neglected by God. He felt defeated by his enemies. All he could see was what was in front of him. I so often choose to focus on my circumstances or my emotions and not the faithfulness of God in my life. David learned from those who came before him that praise is always a choice.

We have the choice to open our mouths to complain to those around us or to proclaim His greatness with those around us. It’s our choice to believe not only that God can but that He will. When we choose to praise Him, we can experience the blessing of intimacy with Him during our broken seasons.

Last, I learned that praise unlocks the fullness of freedom.

But you, Lord, do not be far from me.
    You are my strength; come quickly to help me.
Psalm 22:19 (NIV)

What I love about this verse is that David found so much freedom in knowing God was close to him. He remembered that his strength comes from and is found in God. The Lord doesn’t hesitate to move on our behalf, and we don’t have to convince Him to act.

As my focus turned from my circumstances to praising God again, I realized there’s freedom for me to be vulnerable — before God and before my community. I know this probably won’t be the last time I hit a wall or withdraw from people when things get hard, but now I know just how important it is for me to be willing to open myself up even when I’m not used to doing that.

The power of praise and even the beauty of community aren’t formulas that fix our problems, but through them, God shows up to demonstrate to us that we are not alone in our struggle. We don’t have to carry it all by ourselves. We’ve got Him, and we’ve got each other.

When Being Sensitive Is a Gift for Discernment

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“Well, we all know that you’re a little sensitive,” a family member said to me one day.

She may not have meant it that way, but that word stung.

Sensitive. It implies someone who’s out of control of their reactions, someone who overreacts in a childish, self-centered way. And sure, I can be that way sometimes. But God, in His kindness, has helped me see how being sensitive is a potential superpower.

I remember dragging myself through the chapters in Exodus where God instructs the Israelites to build the tabernacle. His attention to detail — from material choice, to whom could walk where, wearing what, and when, to the ding-dang measurements (by CUBIT, y’all?!) — I couldn’t stifle the yawns! 

But God woke me up: You, Aarti, are also my temple. If I was this exacting about a temporary temple in the wilderness, how much more exacting was I in making you, a walking tabernacle of the Holy Spirit? And if I made rules about who could cross from threshold to threshold, perhaps you ought to use your sensitivity to consider what you’re letting walk willy-nilly across yours.

Oh, that’s a good point, God, I thought. (At which point, I imagined Him smiling and saying something like, Would you expect anything less from Me?! And then I’d smile and give Him a spirit high-five because I love when He’s sarcastic.)

Memories flooded my mind: Red flags I’d ignored in some friendships; New Age books I’d read because everyone else did, even though they made me uneasy; or that time I’d sensed something awry at my church but couldn’t put my finger on it (I’ve since learned what that was about, and yup, I was onto something). 

Why do we need to be so careful about what crosses our threshold?

This line struck me as I read 2 Kings the other day. It’s listed as a reason that Israel fell from God’s grace:

And they followed false idols and became false.
2 Kings 17:15 (ESV)

Or, as one commentator puts it, “And they worshipped emptiness and became empty.”

What started off as an allowance for and then a curiosity about Canaanite worship and celebration (when King Solomon allowed his many foreign wives to bring their idols into the kingdom) turned into the Israelites building temples to those very idols and forgetting Yahweh altogether.

Similarly, I’ve invited the seemingly benign across my threshold without giving them a once-over, only to find them eventually running roughshod over me. The Real Housewives pantheon comes to mind. It started with Atlanta, then New Jersey, and soon I was watching hours every night. My obsession grew like a weed, guiding my reactions, even the way I treated my loved ones. One day, whilst fasting, I turned on an episode, and call me crazy, but I saw a cloud of malevolence hurtling toward me from the screen. It looked like a grey murmuration of tiny flies. 

I decided to stop cold turkey.

Listen, we should be cautious not to be legalistic or judge-y about how others feed their minds, but we certainly do need to take an accounting of our own consumption. I still watch the Housewives on occasion but with my spirit-eyes wide open. When I allow shows, an influential friendship, makeup videos, cooking, even something like the Enneagram into my temple, I must do so in an exacting fashion because I’m fallible! I can easily become enslaved to it and put it on a pedestal, which looks an awful lot like worship, right?

You say, “I am allowed to do anything”— but not everything is good for you. And even though “I am allowed to do anything,” I must not become a slave to anything.
1 Corinthians 6:12 (NLT)

Every single thing on this side of heaven has the potential to either pull us away from Christ or make us run toward Him. Paul called our bodies temples, not libraries or hospitals or laboratories. He chose a holy building, somewhere God Himself descended to dwell. Now, in Christ, we are holy ground!

So yes, I am sensitive. I’m working on seeing that being sensitive can lead to discernment, like a canary in the coal mine. The Holy Spirit helps me examine anything that steps onto my doormat, twirl it around, and look at it from every angle, capturing its potential for sanctification and distraction before that thing rubs the dust off its feet and steps inside.

Over the years, the Lord has strengthened my sensitivity to the tug of the Holy Spirit, not just to turn from emptiness but to run towards abundance and pour it out into what’s empty. Oh what a tremendous gift to fill the darkness with His light! We carry precious cargo, and we’ve been assigned a precious duty, my friends. Let’s not squander our time here by letting emptiness into our temples. Emptiness takes space, and we can be filled with emptiness. Let’s use that God-given discernment to keep our temples full of His truth, so that when the tired, weary, and lost draw near to us, we can invite them in, prepare them a feast, and introduce them to the One who is the source of every good and beautiful thing. 

For we are the temple of the living God; as God said, “I will make my dwelling among them and walk among them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.”
2 Corinthians 6:16 (ESV)

Let’s Study the Bible Together!

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Want to do a Bible study but aren’t sure where to start? Looking for a fantastic group to walk through Scripture with? Need someone else to handle the planning and coordinating that comes with organizing a Bible study?

We’ve got you, friend!

Starting next week, join us for Bible Study Mondays! We’re hosting an online study of Courageous Kindness right here for the next six weeks. It’s an easy-to-join, deeply impactful study, and we can’t wait.

Simply join us each Monday here at incourage.me starting November 1st. We will spend six Mondays going through Courageous Kindness: Live the Simple Difference Right Where You Are, written by Becky Keife and featuring stories from our (in)courage contributors. We’re pretty convinced that Courageous Kindness will empower us to change the world — one simple, intentional act of kindness at a time.

If you’ve ever asked yourself . . .

  • Can I really make a difference? 
  • Where is God in all of this?
  • How can I possibly help?

. . . then you’re going to want in on this Bible study!

Here’s what you need to know about Bible Study Mondays:

1.  You will need a copy of Courageous Kindness to get the most out of the study. We will provide the reading assignments, reflection questions, inspirational quotes, and video conversations along the way each Monday! Pick up a copy wherever books are sold (direct links to retailers here).

2.  Bible Study Monday starts November 1st and will run for six weeks right here on our website. We will post the week’s reading assignment, reflection questions, and discussion videos. And friends, you especially won’t want to miss the videos. Featuring (in)courage writers and friends Becky Keife, Grace P. Cho, and Lucretia Berry, these three share their stories with humor, wisdom, and honesty as they go through Courageous Kindness together.

3. Invite a few friends to join you! If you’re looking for a way to connect with other women, this is a great way to do so. Simply read each week of Bible study, then gather together (in person or online) to watch that week’s video, enjoy your own discussion, and close in prayer. Make sure to check out our FREE Leaders Guide for Courageous Kindness for some extra fun and tips.

That’s it! Super fun and low stress, right? Join us here for Bible Study Monday each week, and know this study content will always be here for you, whatever day of the week you choose to visit. We can’t wait to get started!

Don’t have your book yet or want to give a copy to a friend? 

Tell us in comments tell us if you’ve bought your book yet or not, and we’ll pick FIVE of you to WIN a free copy!*

Mark your calendars for November 1st when we kick off Bible Study Mondays with Courageous Kindness, and tune in TOMORROW, October 27th, at 11am CST on Facebook for a conversation with author and (in)courage community manager Becky Keife and Anna E. Rendell as they discuss Courageous Kindness.

*Giveaway open to US addresses and closes on October 29, 2021, at 11:59pm Central.

Special Episode with Aliza Latta: When Kindness Is Uncomfortable and Doesn’t Go the Way You Planned

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Welcome to a special bonus episode of the (in)courage podcast! In these bonus episodes, (in)courage community manager and author Becky Keife discusses with friends how every small kindness makes a big impact.

Today, Becky’s joined by friend and (in)courage contributor, Aliza Latta. This episode is all about when kindness is uncomfortable and doesn’t go the way you planned. Aliza and Becky both share vulnerable stories about what happened when the Holy Spirit urged them to show compassion to a stranger, how the incident didn’t turn out the way they expected, and the bigger lesson God taught each of them.

If you’ve ever been afraid to trust God with your resources or just get a little awkward for the sake of loving another, this conversation is for you. Because at the end of the day, we all need to remember that kindness isn’t about us — it’s about Jesus.

You’re going to be so encouraged. Listen below or wherever you stream podcasts!

Connect:

We Could All Use Some Time Driving Behind a Combine

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Fall in rural Nebraska means harvest time. And harvest time means huge, slow, yet very important farming equipment on the move. I’m used to it, following family members in tractors, combines, or with grain wagons to pick them up or help them move equipment. I never minded the slow journey; I actually quite enjoyed it. But that’s not the case for everyone. People are always in such a hurry! We’ve seen the impatient drivers. We’ve witnessed the dangerous passings. We’ve held our breath. We’ve heard the stories.

The other day, my husband and I were driving behind a combine on a long stretch of highway. This is where most people, in a hurry, become impatient and do dangerous things. All they see is a big inconvenience, something keeping them from staying on their timeline, an object in their hurried way.

But we see much more. We see the farmer in his tractor, just doing his job. He’s worried about traffic, ditches, mailboxes, and power lines; worried that we have been behind him for miles and haven’t been able to pass; probably worried we’re getting impatient because so many people do. We see it’s getting late, and he’s probably nowhere near being finished for the day. We see that huge piece of equipment moving slow and there isn’t anything he can do about it.

Despite many thinking of Nebraska as flat, this two-lane highway is full of long, drawn-out hills, and there was just no safe opportunity to pass. Although we were fine to settle back and be patient, others weren’t of the same mind. More than once, cars flew around us and the farming equipment in no-passing zones, just barely missing oncoming traffic they couldn’t see coming because of the hills. We held our breath more than once, terrified of what could happen, knowing how easily it could. And just because someone was in a hurry? Because someone couldn’t wait just a few more minutes? Because they couldn’t put life and safety before their rushed timeline?

Why are we all in such a hurry? Where is our patience? I am guilty of this as well, although not so much when behind a fifteen-ton piece of farming equipment. But I am learning more and more about hurry. I don’t like the anxiousness it brings. I don’t like the feeling that a fast forward button was pushed on my life or that I am missing out on what’s most important.

Careful planning puts you ahead in the long run; hurry and scurry puts you further behind.
Proverbs 21:5 (MSG)

Life goes by so quickly the way it is. Spending it rushed and running from one thing to the next isn’t good. Hurry doesn’t bring out my best. Instead, hurry actually steals what matters most in life and steals my best from me.

When I hurry, I do a little of so many different things yet don’t really accomplish anything. When I hurry in my relationships, they suffer because it’s impossible to love well and have deep, meaningful relationships in a hurry. When I hurry in my work, I can’t do it to the fullest of my potential. When I hurry, I can’t help others because I’m not fully present and can’t understand their needs. When I hurry, I miss out on what’s important because I’m not present enough.

Desire without knowledge is not good — how much more will hasty feet miss the way!
Proverbs 19:2 (NIV)

Although I think I’ll accomplish more, do a better job, help more people, basically be a super woman when I hurry, I can’t do any of those things.

Hurry robs me of what God has given to me in this beautiful life, the one He intends for me to use well. Hurry has no place here, when living my best life.

It will take intention and mindfulness. (If you have the opportunity, spending some time driving behind a combine is helpful.) I will need to decide to slow down — my movements, my talking — and I’ll need to be intentional about listening better, removing things from the schedule, editing the to-do list, considering my priorities, and practicing patience.

With God’s grace, I can slow down and connect with Him and others in my life better. And so can you. Live your best life, leaving hurry behind.

Creating the Greenhouse Effect Before Your Next Crisis

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Last year when we were all at home on endless Zoom meetings, my husband craved an outdoor project. I gently suggested a greenhouse — a project big enough to get him outside daily for about a month and something that happened to be a lifelong dream of mine.

By the end of summer 2020, I had the greenhouse of my dreams. We only had a couple more months of growing season, but we were able to reap a modest harvest of tomatoes, peppers, and onions from starter plants.

This year, I wanted a full and lush greenhouse to at least produce our summer supply of tomatoes and peppers, if nothing else. (We’re still new at this gardening thing, so I try to keep my goals modest.)

I shopped for seeds in January, planted them in their little trays while there was still snow on the ground, and grew them under a lamp in our sunroom. When they started to spring out of their little cups and the fear of a big frost had passed, I transplanted the seedlings into the greenhouse and watered and waited.

All summer the plants made great progress. In July, we finally got to snag a few tomatoes and onions for our morning egg scramble but were waiting for our big salsa harvest (onions, tomatoes, and peppers, along with some garlic and cilantro from our window garden) until August.

But then the Caldor Fire started less than 2 miles from our home. We had to evacuate with our dog, cat, and five chickens for three weeks.

God and the firefighters protected our house from flames on our property, and we were and are nothing but grateful. But we also knew we would be coming home to an absolute mess. Because our power had been turned off for over two weeks, we knew we’d be dealing with a full, rotting fridge and freezer, along with a gross deep freeze. And because our well runs on electric power, we envisioned coming home to dozens of dead plants, as well as a completely brown greenhouse.

As we rounded the corner of our driveway, my husband Roger and I were in shock. The plants lining our deck and the garden outside were all dry and crispy. But the contents of our greenhouse looked . . . well, green.

How was that possible?

Our greenhouse, in the middle of a forest fire, kept chugging along, growing dozens of tomatoes, peppers, and onions as if there was nothing going on around its walls.

After getting over the shock of finding our garden bounty, I realized this was exactly how my husband and I got through the uncertainty of knowing whether our house would be lost to the fire: We kept chugging along, doing what God designed us to do, not becoming consumed by the craziness around us.

At first, we were paralyzed by worry and fear. We spent the first week of our evacuation refreshing the NASA fire maps and checking our neighborhood social media for reports from our local fire fighters.

But after a week, we returned to our day-to-day routine: reaching out to friends to pray for them, loving on our adult children, serving at church, and serving our community. It wasn’t easy, but it was better than fretting about our house and our neighborhood day after day.

Galatians 6:9 reminds us, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

Even with stress everywhere we turn, we need to keep doing good. But when life is at its hardest, how do we?

It’s not if the next crisis is coming — it’s when. Cultivating our reserves helps us prepare for the next crisis.

During the evacuation, Scriptures I’d memorized came to mind repeatedly. Some I’d known since I was seventeen, when I took the challenge to memorize forty key Scriptures. Others I’d memorized at the beginning of the pandemic. All of them encouraged and calmed me.

Rest also helped us continue to do good during overwhelming circumstances. Starting week two of our evacuation, we started taking deep, restorative naps almost every day. It gave our minds a break from the chaos and restored our bodies. My husband and I no longer look at naps as a sign of laziness or weakness; they reset us to a healthy place.

During the crisis, we tried to focus on what God had already done for us during other trying times. We didn’t know if the house would survive, but we felt God’s peace and protection.

I’m thrilled to report our house did survive the fire. It would have been easy to put the chickens back in the coop, clean out the gross fridge, and move on. But because we want to keep remembering God’s protection, we’ve done a few things to make sure we and others never forget. We framed the evacuation notice from the fire department and hung it on our wall. We are working on a fundraiser for our community to help us stay fire safe in the future. Finally, we canned a few jars of salsa with our greenhouse miracle plants. We look forward to the next time we have friends sitting around the table who can help us celebrate, eat salsa, and remember what God has done.

What is the good that God has set before you?

You can pre-order your copy of Kathi’s latest devotional, An Abundant Place, and you will receive her downloadable journal. The journal includes some tools to help you get the most out of your Bible study time and offers some tips on how to create mini-retreats in your own home.

What to Do When Rest Feels Like Work

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I sat on the edge of the dock with my legs dangling off. My feet were flat upon the water as though I could step out on the lake at any moment. The space was calm. A slight breeze swayed the tree branches. The children found playmates with pebbles, mud castles, and fish freshly caught. I sat there cupped in God’s nature with my heart racing. I was unable to be as calm as the water. After three days of being at the lake, I still didn’t know how to rest. For some, rest comes easy; for me, it feels like work. 

I am good at being productive. I am good at being busy. I like the pressure and clock ticking and deadlines. Those powers energize me. I like using my imagination and managing people. But being here, at the family lake house makes me antsy. There is no place to be, and I have nothing to do. I almost feel naked. I don’t know what to do when I have nothing to do. My body, mind, and soul need rest — I know this. But I fight rest with everything in me. Rest means wrestling with the deeper things I have been avoiding. When everything on the outside of me gets quiet, then everything on the inside of me gets loud. It’s unsettling, and I want to run out on the water where my feet might find ease; I want to run away from me.

I’ve taken the role of “fishing supervisor” this vacation, and the children repeatedly bring me their tangled fishing wire. This task requires focus, patience, and gentleness. While fishing with children there are three things you won’t find: focus, patience, and gentleness. I send them off while I give all my attention to the massive knot they have managed to whip together. I’m tempted to yank and pull and throw the whole bundle of chaos away. But I wait. I slowly tug and massage the tangles apart. An unraveling begins. It doesn’t happen all at once. It is a process. If I get frustrated, the knot gets worse. If I take my time and use careful intention, the knot loosens.

As I slowly pull at the corner of the wire, I wonder if this is what God is doing within me. He is using focus, patience, and gentleness to undo the knots that have built up in me. Maybe that’s what rest is about. I’m coming back to God with my mess, and He uses love to untangle me. This renewing of my soul requires that I also practice focus, patience, and gentleness. If I fight back, more damage is done. But if I stay and allow God to care for my soul, my insides will loosen. God, in a literal sense, is a fisher of (wo)men. He doesn’t just catch lost souls, but He has compassion upon them and wants them to be free — untangled. For my soul to become untangled, I have to stop. I have to exhale. I have to rest. 

Resting doesn’t come easy for me. I have to work at rest. I have to be okay feeling antsy and anxious just sitting at the edge of the dock. I have to feel the mess I have been avoiding. I have to look at the chaos and tangles and knots choking my chest tight. I have to let the outside beauty penetrate my inner storm. And God does this. He does this by gently untangling me one tug at a time. This time, instead of running, being busy, or avoiding, I stay. I let God do His work on my soul. 

I want a lot of things in life, but one thing I desperately want is to be free inside. I don’t want hooks and wires mangled up inside of me, making it hard to breathe. I want to be fully present with the world, others, and God. The only way to be productive at anything is to learn how to rest — truly rest. At first, it might be painful. I’ll want to squirm and find something else to do. But when I give God space to tend to my soul, a beautiful freedom awaits me.

I need God’s help to rest. I need His grace to hold me as effortlessly as that dock. I am rocked and carried. God’s presence hovers over me like the trees bringing me shade. I need grace to not accomplish something. I need grace to let the tugging make me uncomfortable. I need grace to sustain me when rest feels like work. The truth is, rest is work because God is doing healing work inside of me. He is untangling and setting me free.