The Hope of God’s Steadfast Goodness

The Hope of God’s Steadfast Goodness

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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.

Praying for the Harvest Season

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If you listen obediently to the commandments that I am commanding you today, love God, your God, and serve him with everything you have within you, he’ll take charge of sending the rain at the right time, both autumn and spring rains, so that you’ll be able to harvest your grain, your grapes, your olives. He’ll make sure there’s plenty of grass for your animals. You’ll have plenty to eat.
Deuteronomy 11:13-15 (MSG)

Throughout the brief period that my husband and I lived on the plains of North Dakota, we visited many churches as ambassadors of the Bible camp we worked for. We met so many wonderful people, drank a lot of great coffee in church fellowship halls, and saw God’s glory across the wide expanse of North Dakota sky.

During one particular church visit that autumn, we were sitting in a wooden pew toward the front of the sanctuary. It had been a lovely service that included several favorite hymns, a robust “greeting of your neighbor,” and was now concluding with the prayers. As the pastor led us, he prayed a few sentences about one topic (our church liturgy calls this a prayer petition) and the congregation responded to each with, “Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.” None of this liturgy was new to me. However, my ears perked up when he began a petition focused on the harvest.

He prayed for the right amount of rain — that neither flooding nor drought would damage the local fields. He prayed for daylight to last longer so the farmers could accomplish as much work as possible during the swift daytime hours. He prayed for a healthy harvest, a fruitful return on years of hard work and backbreaking labor.

Praying for the harvest was new to me, as I’d been born and raised in the suburbs. As I peeked around at those praying around me, it gripped my heart to see their faces upturned and clenched, their hands tightly folded, and their heads nodding in agreement with the petition.

The whole prayer experience only lasted about three minutes and occurred more than ten years ago now, yet I’ve never forgotten it. Each year when harvest season arrives, I pray for farmers — for the sun to shine, the rain to fall appropriately, the labor of their hands to be prosperous, and for a rich reward for all their work.

We may not all be farmers, but we can certainly pray for an abundant, beautiful harvest in our own lives. Isn’t that what we hope for — in our mothering, family, marriages and friendships? Proof of the hard work we’ve done, the care and attention we’ve lavished, and the focus and determination it took along the way?

Every farmer knows the result isn’t entirely up to them. They can love and care for their fields, and still, the crops can be wiped out by a flood, drought, insect infestation, or other act of nature. Every mother knows this too — that she can pour her whole heart into raising her kids and they still may not turn out the way she had hoped. Nature takes its course and we can simply nurture the results.

Whatever the harvest may yield, God promises to care for us and for those we love. To provide all that we truly need. And to send the rain at the right time.

Lord, help me trust the harvest. You hold it in Your hands, and they are more than capable of producing a fruitful crop. Bless the farmers in this season of stress and labor. Amen.

Ponder:

  1. Do you trust God to provide all that you truly need? Why or why not?
  2. What are you harvesting in your life, in your marriage, in your work, and/or in your children?

Extra Shot:

Carve out the stem section of a mini-pumpkin (you can use a large drill bit or a carving knife.). Insert an electric taper candle in the hole, and voilà! You have a beautiful and non-flammable harvest time decoration. I like to use several different pumpkins and gourds, placing them in the center of my dining room table and using both taper and tealight-sized electric candles.

This is one of twenty-five autumn devotions found in Anna E. Rendell’s book, Pumpkin Spice for Your Soul: 25 Devotions for Autumn. As one who finds glory and beauty especially during autumn days, Anna’s book includes twenty-five days worth of inspiration sure to help you embrace and soak up the season too. Each day brings you Scripture, devotions, prayer, reflection questions to ponder throughout your day, and an “extra shot” — inspiring quotes, recipes, and fun autumn ideas — like espresso for your soul! You’ll also find lined pages for your own autumn reflections, nine of Anna’s favorite autumn recipes, and and a bonus devotion for the start of Advent.

Also, brand new this year — listen to Seven Days of Pumpkin Spice for Your Soul, as read by Anna! Stream each episode and give yourself a moment as Anna reads seven full excerpts from the book.

It’s Anna’s prayer that the pause found on the pages of this book would provide you a moment of peace. A break in the hustle. A chance to savor this fleeting and favored season. . . and we’re giving away FIVE copies! To enter, just leave a comment telling us what you love about autumn or how you’ve experienced a harvest season.

Then, join Anna and Becky Keife tomorrow, September 22, at 11:00am central for a conversation about autumn, God’s goodness, and Pumpkin Spice for Your Soul.

Giveaway open to US addresses only and will close on September 24, 2021 at 11:59pm central.

When Difficult Change Makes You Scared to Be Happy Again

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Sometime ago, a couple of big changes clobbered into me, knocking me clean over. When the first change was thrown at me, I thought resolution would never come. But it did, and at that time, I celebrated like it was my job with champagne, hugs, and high-fives.

That celebration brought gloriously good feelings that lasted one whole month, and then the second thing knocked into me in such a way it made the first hit feel like a simple poke in the ribs. Believe me when I say the second change was an ordeal with a capital O.

That second change dragged on and on and on. And while I went about taking care of my family and home by stirring the pasta sauce and buying the birthday gifts and doing the next thing that needed to be done on a particular day, I didn’t have the same joy I had before. I felt guarded and suspicious and so, so tired. No, I felt haggard. Even after positive resolution finally came (thank you, God!), my heart couldn’t shake that worn-out feeling. Grateful? Oh yes, infinitely so. But joyful? Not so much.

So I carried this heavy feeling that wasn’t depression yet wasn’t my normal self, and eventually I mentioned it to my life (and business) coach. I told her how confusing this period was because much of my circumstances had returned to normal-ish. “Why can’t I snap out of it,” I asked? And while I had family and friends who gave me safe, helpful places to process all the events, it was she who helped me name the message I’d somehow internalized inside:

If I become happy, something bad will happen again.

If I become happy, a difficult change that’s worse than the others will do me in.

Now, in my head I know I don’t have the power to control what happens beyond my own actions. Yet this lie-imposing-as-truth message pushed into the soil of my heart, and it grew and grew, watered by fear and a false sense of control.

At that moment, I realized I stood at a fork in the road: Was I going to believe that any change threatened to knock me outside of God’s protection and care, that He gets a kick out of pulling the rug out from under me? Or would I be able to rest in what I’d said to be true — that God is always for me and all that He allows into my life is for my benefit because He loves me?

I prayed and prayed, and one day the Lord gave me this message in my heart:

I move from abundance, not scarcity. Look at all the ways I’ve been faithful in the past, and know I’ll be faithful in the present and future.

I knew He wanted me to know that whatever changes come, He would not dole out crumbs to me. He doesn’t dole out crumbs to any of us. His Son Jesus is proof that He moves behind the scenes to set us up for the abundant life — even when what stands in plain sight seems anything but.

When I wrote my first book on the subject of change in 2014, I knew I’d already lived through a lot of transition. As a longtime military wife, change was the name of the game. And when my husband, David, retired from active duty, he and I continued to meet change in entirely new ways. We both lost our dads within six weeks of each other. Our relationship with our kids evolved as they grew up and out of the house. We’ve met health struggles and marital strains. We’ve watched loved ones fight uphill battles that might as well have mowed down our own hearts with our John Deere tractor.

And this says nothing of 2020, the year I tapped out most of When Change Finds You, when the pandemic became the undercurrent jostling so much change, tiny and tremendous.

A while ago, I drove to Denver to record the audiobook for When Change Finds You. And after reading that thing from top to bottom, I cried for two reasons. First, I cried because I believed in my bones that this book delivers what it promises — that God delivers good things through change. And second, I cried because I sensed real joy in my heart.

Difficult change that I didn’t want or ask for still affects me today. But I can see how the change of the past has grown good things, and I can know that present and future change will grow good things, too.

When we come to a fork in the road that asks us whether or not we will trust God to use our difficult change for good, may we know God is believable and His promises in the present are proven by His faithfulness in the past.

God moves from abundance, not scarcity. He will use this change for good because His presence — and His love — are here to stay.

May you and I persevere as we see how our hard change is written into a good life story along the way.

If you are looking for a companion as you travel your road of change, preorder my next book, When Change Finds You: 31 Assurances to Settle Your Heart When Life Stirs You Up.

What a Water Lily Plant Taught Me About Hope

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When we moved into our home, we were super excited to see the garden had a small garden pond. We soon learned it had seen better days because it was leaking. But since we enjoyed it so much, we decided to replace the old one with a new, bigger one so we could have fish. For years, we loved watching our two small fish grow. We named them, fed them, and made places for them to swim through and hide in from the hawks when needed.

Then came an unfortunate day.

We had a lightning storm, and the next day, we saw the fountain wasn’t running. My husband went out to find that we had lost more than the power the night before; we also lost our fish.

You don’t realize how much you could miss a couple of fish, but they had become part of our garden and a big part of our daily routine. After they were gone, we sort of neglected that part of the garden. We didn’t go out to that area daily, and the fountain and power stayed broken. We intended to clean it out and leave it empty until we found new fish, but this, that, and the other thing happened and we never got to it. One season turned into two, and while we worked on other areas of the garden, we didn’t work on the pond area. Also, the closest store that sold fish no longer carried them, so the pond stayed untended to, filled from rainfall, the water dark from algae and seasons of leaves falling in.

Then, one day, we saw something out on the water — something bright green. Below that dark water, through all this time, remained a water lily plant, and what we were witnessing was its lily pads! Remarkably, with no care and through algae, winters, and frozen pond seasons, this water lily survived. Soon after, up came a bloom! Stunningly beautiful pink and blush petals with a bright yellow center, the flower stood so tall and proud in the midst of that murky, neglected water.

This bloom was a true reminder to me of how powerful beauty is. It stopped me in my tracks and pulled me right in. All the busy thoughts and worries of the day just disappeared. Its striking beauty cut through all of it. It was  me and this thing of beauty — an intimate message from God, a light in the darkness that reminded me that God is near.

In beauty, I see God. In beauty, I see hope.

Through it, God tells me it’s all okay. He is right here showing me how He can turn anything into something beautiful, how He can come through any dark, murky hurt. He won’t leave me alone in the dark, and there is always hope. I’m reminded that there is so much more than my burdens and hurts, than the unknowns and struggles. Those things won’t last — because of Christ. And because of Him, there is beauty.

When we are in midst of the messes of life, when we just wish the pain would go away, it feels impossible to see even a glimmer of purpose or hope. But it’s there. Look for it. Focus on the hope that beauty can grow from the murkiest of places, like the water lily. God is purposeful. If your season feels useless, know it is anything but useless to Him. He can use the murkiest of times in our lives to create immense light and great beauty.

And to be sure His first message wasn’t missed, another bright, beautiful bloom of hope blossomed from our neglected, murky pond! So, take heart. There is purpose. Beauty is here. God is near. He gives “bouquets of roses instead of ashes, messages of joy instead of news of doom, a praising heart instead of a languid spirit” (Isaiah 61:3 MSG).

Is Jesus’ Sweetness on My Menu?

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I’m in my kitchen looking through old cookbooks for a recipe for Church Social Frappé. If you remember, the frothy concoction was made with fruit sherbet and lemon-lime soda pop.

Hardly anybody back then was counting calories or sugar content. It just tasted good. Served up at church socials from a fancy bowl with a pretty ladle, it was splashed into Styrofoam cups, at the least, or fancy glasses, at the most, and most everybody enjoyed it. I hadn’t thought of the treat, however, in years.

But when I was asked to come up with a recipe for an online book club kit for my new historical mystery novel, I scoured my late mother’s cookbooks and came across all manner of “historical” delights — tuna macaroni casseroles, broccoli cheddar cheese quiches, stuffed party molds made jiggly and jumpy with neon orange Jello.

I’m not making fun. I happily ate those dishes. But for my online book club? I wanted something sophisticated, effortless, breezy, cool.

Simple enough, but it seemed like a hurdle too high to clear. And I knew why. What if people judged it? Judged me? Took one look at my mama’s Jello mold recipe and laughed?

Enter Jesus.

I let out a grateful breath.

He provides answers, miracles, and in fact, He even cooks them. Remember that scene in John 21 where His poor disciples fished all night but caught nothing? Obeying Him, they threw their nets on the other side of their boat, catching a haul so big they could hardly bring it it in. Realizing it’s Jesus who created the miracle, they come ashore to the wonder of this:

They saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread . . . [Then] Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.”
John 21:9,15 (NIV)

The kindest of invitations, it was made to a denying Peter — and the other disciples who had abandoned Jesus — but it’s also made to us: Come and eat. 

I pay close attention. This is a reset, a lesson I need to learn.

First, Jesus Himself made a simple meal of fish and bread. Our Lord and Savior, yes, is doing the kitchen work. As one who comes from people who did kitchen work (my late grandmother worked as a “domestic” and my mother did maid work to pay for college), I’m compelled, seeing our Jesus in the same, humble role.

Paul pointed it out, too, that Jesus, “who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant . . . he humbled himself” (Philippians 2:6-8).

He didn’t worry about finding the “perfect” recipe. Nor did He bend over backwards to be the “perfect” host.

Such worries can take over when we gather — in a book club or anywhere else — both for the hostess and the guests. But more than the book or food or reason for getting together, Jesus invites us first to love. At His beachside breakfast, love was the main topic — and also His deepest question. Do you love me? (John 21:15-17). If we do, feed My sheep.

So, make the tuna or quiche or Jello, but offer it with love. 

Reading that, I put my cookbooks aside, take my evening shower, and slip on fresh pajamas and go to bed. Then, in the middle of the night, I awake from a deep sleep, sit up, and whisper a crazy word — frappé. Not because it’s perfect; it’s not. Not because it’s cool, definitely not. But because it stirs in me memories of a time and place — my little childhood church — where loving ladies in long, white gloves and fancy dresses sewn up on Singer sewing machines served up the frosty treat. It was sweet and pretty, and that made it good.

In fact, it was never fancy. But neither was the fish and bread that Jesus served.

The love was in Who served it — and for whom it was served. So, for your book club or small group, make the Church Social Frappé or get takeout. Jesus invites us to be brave enough to feed His sheep — not with fancy but with faith. Then our humble menus are always sweetened with His love.

Patricia’s online book club kit features her mother’s recipe for Church Social Frappé, to be served with mixed nuts, sugar cookies, and candy mints. Her mystery novel, All That Is Secret, was named a Parade Magazine “Mysteries We Love” pick for Fall 2021. Pre-order it here!

Don’t Forget What God Has Done

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I stand at the kitchen sink performing my nightly ritual. The water is scalding, but I barely flinch each time I rinse another dish under the steamy stream. Maybe because my hands are used to the burn. Or maybe because I’m focused on a different kind of pain.

I draw in a deep breath, slow and long, willing my lungs to fill with enough air to usher in relief. I find none. My heart pounds faster than it should. My chest tightens. It feels like coffee jitters in the life-pumping part of me — only I haven’t had caffeine since the morning. The beat of my own heart feels like life draining out of me. My mind races with a traffic jam of thoughts — speeding yet stuck. The irony is not funny.

I’m writhing, wilting, screaming inside. I’m pounding on the jail of body and mind. I’m trapped. Yet on the outside, I look fine. I load another blue plastic kid bowl into the dishwasher, scrub harder at crusted bits in the corner of a glass pan.

Breathe deep. Fight the ache. Push forward. Crave normal. No relief.

After months of enduring this can’t-catch-my-breath agony, I finally admit that I have a serious issue with anxiety.

I looked fine. I wanted to be fine. But I wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

Several years have since passed. Sometimes the muscle memory of those fruitless deep breaths sneaks up on me. Unless I intentionally recall those tight-chest, racing-mind days, I almost forget that I was once stuck in the anxiety pit. I forget how I cried to God who lifted me out of it.

When “healed” becomes your new normal, it’s easy to forget the Healer.

My hunch is that this is what happened to the men with serious skin diseases who called out to Jesus for mercy. As they went to show themselves to the priests, the lesions of their leprosy vanished. Painful blisters were replaced with smooth skin. Deformed hands and feet were repaired to full function. The disease that had ravaged their bodies and ostracized them from society — for who knows how many years — was miraculously gone! What mercy! Praise God!

But only one did.

But one of them, seeing that he was healed, returned and, with a loud voice, gave glory to God. He fell facedown at his feet, thanking him.
Luke 17:15-16 (CSB)

Where were the other nine, Jesus wanted to know? Could they have forgotten the answer to their plea so quickly? Taken the miracle for granted already?

As readers, it’s easy to sit in judgment over these nine, seemingly ungrateful, men. The Messiah altered the course of their entire lives, yet they didn’t have the decency to come back and acknowledge the wonder or utter a thank you!

What if, for a moment, we step down from the judge’s seat and into the healed men’s shoes? Consider their joy. Consider their total awe. How utterly astounded they must have been. Surely they must have wondered if their eyes deceived them. The man who healed them said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests,” so without hesitation, they went!

Can you picture it? After being disabled and only able to hobble for years, they could now walk without pain — or better yet, run! Oh, how those men must have dashed and danced into the presence of the priests appointed to bear witness to their miraculous healing. Or perhaps they first collapsed on the dusty road, weeping with relief.

The exact responses of the nine are unknown. What we do know is that one man came back. What provoked his change of course? First, Scripture says he saw that he was healed. He recognized God’s work in his life. Next, he returned. The man didn’t continue on his way — even to the very task Jesus told him to do; he came back to give God glory and profess his thanks.

What a beautiful sight that must have been: the healed worshiping the Healer. Then to hear Jesus offer another lifeline of encouragement and freedom: “Get up and go on your way. Your faith has saved you” (Luke 17:19).

I wonder if the nine men who didn’t return ever regretted it. Weeks, months, or years later, as they labored at a job they never thought they’d perform, as they caressed the cheek of a wife they never thought they’d marry or see again, as they entered the synagogue to worship instead of being banished to the outskirts of town, did they ever pause to remember the agony from which they were delivered? Did they ever long to go back and thank their Deliverer?

I pull my hands from tonight’s hot suds, take a deep breath, and exhale my deepest thanks.

Thank You, Jesus, for hearing my cry. Thank You for answering my plea for freedom from anxiety. You are powerful and good! All glory is Yours! Forgive me for forgetting or taking Your mercy for granted. You are God my Savior, and my hope is in You all day long.

Unlike the ten lepers, God did not choose to exercise instantaneous healing in my life. Instead, He led me to pursue help through counseling to explore the roots and triggers of my anxiety. It was a long road of hard work. But Jesus went with me.

Shadows of anxiety still creep in, but I am grateful to have crossed that darkest valley.

Healing looks different for each individual. God is not limited by a particular means or timetable. The source of our cries for mercy can be equally varied. Maybe you’ve asked God for physical or mental healing. Or maybe you’ve begged Him for a miracle of relational restoration, financial repair, or spiritual renewal.

Wherever you are on the journey, pause today to recognize how God has worked already. Identify the prayers He’s answered. Then turn from your regular to-dos and return to Him. Pour out your praise and thanks.

This story appears in the (in)courage Devotional Bible. It’s one of more than 300 devotions in this beautiful resource. For more biblical encouragement from Becky, check out her Bible Study, Courageous Kindness.

The One Item Colossians Says to Wear

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So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it.
Colossians 3:12-14 (MSG)

At the first hint of a chill in the air, I’m pulling on socks, cute leather boots, jeans and a sweater. It’s my basic autumn uniform — I suit up in it most days.

I have this one pair of boots — fabulous leather booties with a low heel that look amazing with my favorite jeans. At 8 a.m., I have high hopes for those boots. I keep thinking this will be the day they won’t kill my feet and require swapping them out for flats by 11 a.m.

And each day, I’m so wrong.

It’s disappointing how I can’t wear those boots more than a few hours before my feet call it quits. But while I love a cute pair of shoes, I also love not being in pain, so back into the closet they go by 11 in the morning. Sometimes it’s hard to choose another pair, even though I know the boots are not the best for me. They’re just so cute!

Often more difficult than that morning choice is choosing to pull on the one item Colossians says to be sure to wear: Regardless of what else you put on, wear love (Colossians 3:14 MSG).

It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it.

Wearing love? That’s the good, hard, refining, beautiful, difficult, and wearying work of mothering. It’s easier to choose love when the kids are tiny and adorable, when timeouts and suckers fix most problems. But often, there’s nothing easy about choosing to love. Choosing to live out love in our actions, thoughts, and words can be a difficult garment to wear. During the fourteenth round of hide-and-seek. When you’ve asked them seven times to put their shoes on. When it’s just past midnight and they walk in the door late for curfew. When they tell you that they have a Greek-to-English alphabet poster due . . . tomorrow. When the principal calls — again. When you’re just not connecting with your teen. When your grown kids are raising their own kids but not the way you’d do it.

When we pull on love, we can wear it loud and proud. When we pull on love, we can fully know that it won’t let us down by 11:00 am like those darn boots. When we pull on love, we can trust God’s promises. When we pull on love, we’ll be clothed in the richest garment possible.

Maybe today, I’ll wear the slightly-less-cute-but-much-comfier boots. As I pull them up and head downstairs to greet the chaos of the morning, I’ll remember what I’ve chosen to wear first. When I pull on love, choosing to let it guide my steps more faithfully than my cutest boots, the path I take will lead me straight to all the compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience I need for the day.

Lord, help me choose to wear love today — even when it’s uncomfortable or difficult. Guide and lead me to your path, covering all that I say and do in love. Remind me throughout the day of the holy clothing I chose to put on first, and that those garments will never rip, tear or wrinkle. And help me keep them on past 11 a.m. Amen.

What gets in your way of wearing love? On the days it doesn’t fit quite right, how can you continue to seek compassion, kindness, humility, and quiet strength?

p.s. Do you have a pair of tall boots that fold over while in your closet? Here’s a pro tip: take a foam pool noodle leftover from summer swimming and cut it in half. Stick half of the pool noodle in each boot, zip ’em up, and your boots will stand straight and tall in your closet!

Excerpt from Pumpkin Spice for Your Soul: 25 Devotions for Autumn by Anna E. Rendell.

Season Two of the (in)courage Podcast!

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Welcome to Season Two of the (in)courage Podcast! This season, friends and (in)courage team members, Anna E. Rendell and Joy Groblebe, are working through what it means to have  influence — and it might not look like what you’re thinking.

In today’s episode, among other things, Anna and Joy talk about the best cinnamon rolls they ever had (spoiler alert: they were from Bennigans!) and how Jesus makes the difference between influence and influencing. Listen below or wherever you stream podcasts! Sharing a story with us today is (in)courage contributor Dawn Camp, who reads her story from Week One of the Courageous Influence Bible Study.

Also, in each episode of this season, 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 (another 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.

Let Go of Good for God’s Best

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I watch as they hammer a for sale sign in my front yard. I have nervous, prayerful energy that I don’t know quite what to do with. Our house and ten acres goes on the market tomorrow. This special place we’ve called home is where God taught me what the promised land means and how to dwell with Him. So I’ve been hesitant to follow Jesus to the next place. 

But over the last three weeks, we’ve had multiple confirmations that we’re supposed to sell our home, buy some land, and build. God has flung every door open and made it shockingly easy. We’ve cleaned out years of life, redecorated, and staged everything for buyers. It all happened so fast, with miracles along the way, so as much as it’s been amazing, it’s also been exhausting.

Yet what God is doing in my life seems so insignificant considering the headlines of each day and the heartache of our neighbors around the world. I’ve been hesitant to follow Jesus to the next place on this adventure He continues to lead us on, and I was even more apprehensive to discuss it here. 

But I think the real struggle I’ve been battling — and I’m sure you have at some point too — is this: What do we do when God asks us to trust Him and leave the good we are content with for His best? 

Six years ago, when God led us to this place we’ve called home, it was clear. I know God works in seasons, both in nature and our lives, but I’ve wondered if I’m mistakenly leaving what God gave me for all the wrong reasons. Yet I’ve been reminded of Abram leaving good pasture lands for God’s best that was unknown, of Moses leaving his job as a shepherd to lead God’s children to freedom, and even of Jesus ascending to heaven and leaving His disciples so they could be even more empowered by the Holy Spirit. 

We are not to assume that what we have now is as good as it gets. God promises us He will do more than we can imagine (Ephesians 3:16-21). Where we are isn’t the only beauty He has created. There will be more and even greater things than what we have experienced so far from His gracious hand. Even during the most difficult of days, His promise of heaven is proof of the greatness that is to come because He will be dwelling with us. 

One of the things God taught me in this home is that the promised land He talks to us about so much throughout Scripture was about more than the land; it was about dwelling with God where He leads and believing He can be trusted to fulfill His promises for each of us.

And so, as I pray about who God will bring to buy our home, I’m reminded that I’m not rooted in my location but in Jesus. I will not get attached to a place but to the One who made it and owns it. I am merely a caretaker with the honor of stewarding all that passes through my hands — whether a home, a job, a role, or even my relationships.

God doesn’t just promise beauty for ashes, but also the beauty of Himself and His leading we think might be too good to imagine. No matter the circumstances, you and I can be rooted in His love. He dwells with us even in the flames, and He is able to do more than we can ask or imagine because His power is at work within us.

God knows today and our next thousand tomorrows. Let’s trust Him and know He is answering our prayers. Following Jesus on this journey of faith is never boring but always an adventure. Let go of good to allow God to work out His best plans for your life.

Where God is asking you to go will be beautiful because He will be there.

Lord, give us more of You. Make our journey only explainable because of the Holy Spirit. Make us like Abraham and Sarah willing to go where you lead when we don’t know where that is. Make us like Moses to know the place we live isn’t as important as being with Jesus on the journey. Give us courage like Joshua to leave behind what we know to take on what You give us. Reveal Your will to us and give us Your vision so we can live as You have planned long ago. Make us crave dwelling with You more than knowing the plan. Confirm in us that Your best is better than good enough. Amen.

Experience Hope and Encouragement Like Never Before

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My nine-year-old loves to play the game Two Truths and a Lie. He ranges from, “I can turn invisible” to “I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch,” so it’s not always a stretch to figure out which is truth and which is a lie. However, we always have fun inventing the lie and racking our brains for the truths.

Maybe you too have had to dig deep for truth, for reminders of who you really are. Often the lies are louder in our ears and hearts and can be easily confused for truth:

I’m alone. Unwanted. Forgotten. Unforgiven.

Sometimes we need a friend to point out the lies and help us embrace the truth. The brand new DaySpring Hope & Encouragement Bible is one such friend. In addition to the full NLT text, it includes twelve indisputable truths of who we are as God’s children. And this, friends, is how we combat the lies.

When you feel lost in the mundane, God says you have a purpose.

When fear creeps in, God says you are held.

When you wonder if anyone notices, God says you are important.

When you feel isolated, God says you are not alone.

Friends, today we want to give you a reminder of who you are with two devotions by Jennifer Gerelds from the Hope & Encouragement Bible. Read on for two truths (no lies here!) about who you are in Christ.

You are forgiven.

Is anyone thirsty? Come and drink — even if you have no money! Come, take your choice of wine or milk — it’s all free!
Isaiah 55:1 (NLT)

You’re finally rounding the last stretch of sidewalk before you reach home, your daily exercise nearly complete. Accelerated heart rate, beads of sweat, and panting breath all confirm that you got a good workout. But you’re parched. Before you head for the shower, you grab a glass from the kitchen and fill it with clean, cool water. As you drink, you instantly feel life and energy returning to your fatigued body. Always hits the spot, you think. 

Did you know that more than half of your body is made up of water? It’s no wonder you need it, even crave it, throughout your day. But God tells us our souls are no different. He explains the idea in the Bible. Jesus meets a woman at the well where she has gone to draw water. He strikes up a conversation that went like this, “Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring inside them, giving them eternal life” (John 4:13-14). Jesus explains to her that the water he gives is “living water” (John 4:10); it’s not of this world. It comes from God’s own Spirit, filling every child of God. 

When God floods our lives with his forgiveness and grace, our thirst for redemption is filled forever. And the invitation to drink from his refreshing and replenishing store of love and hope repeats daily. Have a satisfying drink of water today. As it fills you, let your heart also be filled with the truth of God’s everlasting power, forgiveness, and love. 

Lord, thank you for refreshing my soul with your love and hope. Fill my heart with the truth of your everlasting power, forgiveness, and love every day of my life. In Jesus’ name, amen. 

 

You are held.

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
Psalm 91:1 (NLT)

You can remember the moments like they were just yesterday — those chilling childhood memories when the terror of a night’s dream or a clapping crash of a thunderstorm outside your window woke and worried you. Crouching low under the covers simply wouldn’t cut it. Fear moved you out of your bedroom in search of a safer, more substantial place of shelter. Slipping silently between your parents even as they slept, your pounding heart quieted. Your panic stilled as your breathing fell in sync with theirs. Nestled next to them, you felt safe, surrounded by such powerful love. 

As you grew up, though, so did your knowledge of the world. You learned: earthly parents — and people in general — aren’t fail-proof. Real-life problems don’t always disappear with the dawn. Fearful unknowns like insufficient finances, broken relationships, and failing health can leave you feeling like you did as a child, powerless to calm the mounting pressures all around you. Only this time, our problems are greater than any parent can solve . . . except our heavenly Father. 

Child of God, you don’t need to stay stuck in your fears, afraid of what is to come, wondering who can help. Leave the isolation of self-reliance and turn to God Almighty. He is a shield and source of comfort like no other. Not only is he right beside us, he is above us, below us, before us, and behind us! 

God, help me to sleep, wake, and walk in total confidence as I rest in your constant care. 

Both devotions were written by Jennifer Gerelds as printed in the DaySpring Hope & Encouragement Bible. 

You are forgiven. You are held. These are just two of the twelve truths expanded upon inside the DaySpring Hope & Encouragement Bible, which amplifies twelve indisputable truths about who you are in Christ. These truths will equip you to recognize and embrace your treasured place in God’s heart.

This beautiful new Bible also includes 52 full-page devotions from bestselling DaySpring books, and 250+ reflective inspirations. Armed with this knowledge and extra inspiration, you will be able to face any challenge, step into your toughest callings, and live the adventure God has for you.

When you pre-order the Hope & Encouragement Bible, you’ll receive a 100 Days of Hope & Encouragement Devotional Journal for FREE! Yeah! That’s two ways your heart can be encouraged by the truth of who you are.

Get a FREE sampler from the Hope & Encouragement Bible and start reading today! We know that embracing the truth of who God says you are will lead you to experience hope and encouragement like never before. May the truth of who you are in Christ be louder in your heart than any lie whispered.

Blessed Be the Name of the Lord No Matter What (No Really)

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I hadn’t expected I’d be writing from my mom’s house. I arrived with my husband, our dog Moose, our cat Ashley, and five chickens, who were none too happy about making the trip down the mountain.

Chickens are not known for being portable pets, but we had a good reason. I’m sure you saw the news reports about the Caldor Fire that burned over 122,00 acres in California. It all started in Omo Ranch, our tiny town of a couple hundred people, and we were under mandatory evacuation.

So we stayed at my mom’s, watched the NASA fire maps, and prayed for the firefighters.

We swung wildly between being grateful to God that, until that point, our house still stood, and feeling terrible for over 400 of our neighbors, who had lost everything.

This has been the year of our “and.”

It started with my husband (and favorite human) Roger spending eight days in the hospital. I couldn’t see him because of COVID regulations. Two months later, my doctors thought I had a heart attack. And now, we’re the healthiest we’ve been in years.

We haven’t gotten COVID through a global pandemic, and we’ve lost Roger’s mom and others we love to this pandemic.

We had to shutter the biggest part of our business — in-person retreats — for the years 2020 and 2021. And because we couldn’t meet in person, we were able to launch the two fastest growing (and our favorite) parts of our business online.

We spent hundreds of hours focused on improving our house and property over the past year and a half. And now we wait to see if any of it is standing when the fires are out.

We are grateful God spared our house so far. And we are terrible at waiting to find out if it will still be okay.

This is life: Not all good. Not all bad. Lots of ands.

I am a naturally positive person. I always like to look at the bright side of any situation. But I also need to realize that most of our life is not wild swings of really good or really hard.

Most of the time, the good and the hard come nestled together with an “and” tucked in between.

The world has taught us to look at ourselves and others as either put-upon victim or conquering overcomer. The world wants us to construct a simple story of whether you are to be admired or pitied.

But our lives, our stories, are so much messier than two-dimensional characters, as the world wants to define us. Our stories, like ourselves, are complicated and chaotic. We have contradicting and complex emotions that sit right next to each other and demand to be recognized and dealt with.

We see this in the Old Testament story of Job. If anyone had earned the right to paint himself as the victim, Job had all the cards: The death of his ten children, the loss of everything he owned, all in one day.

And here is what I love about Job’s story:

He tore his mantle in “anguish of spirit” (Job 7:11 NKJV). He shaved his head. He was beset with inner strife.

Yet he fell on the ground to worship God and declared: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I shall return there. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21 NKJV).

Praising God doesn’t mean we ignore all the hard.

We feel our feelings. We experience joy and anguish. Then we take the difficult, holy step of saying, “Not only do we trust God, but we bless His name.”

I hope in a week I will know the direction of the story in this chapter of our lives.

If our house burns, I will be devastated. I will cry. I will mourn. I will be beset with inner strife.

But I pray I will recognize it’s with the same hands God gave me these things that sometimes they are taken away. And I will bless the name of the Lord.

If our house stands, it will stand to serve those whose narrative turned out differently than ours. Because we want to be part of someone else’s story of blessing God’s name.

Fire evacuations, hurricanes, and other emergencies take us by surprise, but we can be ready. Check out my book, Ready for Anything, to help you prepare for your next crisis.

The Power of Simple Encouragement

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We accidentally got to the library eight minutes early. On the surface, this doesn’t seem like a big deal . . . but with three spirited boys, eight extra minutes can feel like eight hours. At the time, my sons were seven, six, and four — the perfect ages for high curiosity and low impulse control. As we entered the small outer foyer and I realized the main library wasn’t open yet, low-grade panic set in. My kids were not cut from the “sit still and wait patiently” kind of cloth.

Thankfully we had a bag full of books to return. Let’s draw this out as long as possible, I thought. Each boy excitedly took turns feeding picture books into the automated return system. They oohed and aahed as the scanner scanned each barcode and the title appeared on the nearby screen (and then they shoved a brother to get a better look) as the conveyor belt carried each book to the appropriate bin. Dump. Again!

When our book bag was empty, they slurped water from the drinking fountain, hid under the massive stairwell, asked a gazillion questions about what would happen if the concrete cracked and fell on top of them and would they for sure be crushed and die? There were two trips to the bathroom and a thorough investigation of a row of cupboards that foolishly were void of padlocks. As the minutes inched on, more library patrons joined my energetic crew in the waiting vestibule. Staring eyes weren’t in short supply.

“Be aware of others. Stay near me. Quiet words, please,” I reminded them often.

My boys weren’t being bad — just inquisitive, antsy, talkative, active kids. And after eight minutes, their mama was exhausted. When the clock struck ten and the bell tower began to chime, the large sliding glass doors finally opened. The small crowd began filing into the sanctuary of books. Jude jumped and Elias squealed and Noah started to sprint as I reminded them again to please walk and use inside voices.

An older woman who had been waiting nearby caught my eye. “It’s going to be a long summer,” she said.

“Yeah, it is,” I replied with a weak smile and sigh.

Then her eyes brightened, and her smile warmed. “But you’re doing a great job. Thank you for being here,” she added.

I had braced myself for a stranger’s rebuke — parenting in public is one of the hardest things for me. In the little years, it made me sweat with anxiety. But instead of judgment I was met with the kindness of simple encouragement. All I could do was whisper, Thank you. She gave me a knowing nod and entered the library as I followed my sons — my back a bit straighter, my steps a bit lighter.

A small, unexpected thank-you from a stranger. A word to make someone feel seen. Is there an easier gift of kindness to give?

So I pass on these sweet words to you: Thank you. Thank you for changing diapers and reading stories. Thank you for going to work and still making dinner when you’re dog-tired. Thank you for cheering at swim lessons and folding laundry and answering the billionth question to quench a little person’s curiosity. Thank you for helping your neighbor and listening to your coworker. Thanks for getting to church early to set up or staying late to tear down. Thanks for mentoring that teenager. Thanks for doing your mundane job with a smile. Thanks for putting one foot in front of the other.

Thank you for being you. No one else could fill your shoes.

A small word of encouragement can make a significant impact in someone’s day. Green is a great color on you. You love well. I’m impressed by how you handled that. There are limitless possibilities for how we can build up others.

Proverbs 16:24 explains the significance of our words: “Kind words are like honey — sweet to the soul and healthy for the body” (NLT). I can’t count the times that my soul has been revived by the sweetness of someone’s words. Kind words have saved me from teetering over the edge of spiritual doubt and physical exhaustion. A timely word of encouragement has reeled me in from emotional overwhelm and mental fatigue. When I’ve spiraled into the black pit of anxiety and depression, words that remind me that I am loved as I am have made all the difference.

In honor of The National Day of Encouragement, consider how you can lavish the simple kindness of encouragement on those around you. Here are ten easy things you can say to encourage someone today:

  1. I see you.
  2. I’m proud of you.
  3. God made you beautiful.
  4. You shine doing that thing you’re created to do.
  5. I’m thankful for you.
  6. You inspire me.
  7. I appreciate your hard work.
  8. God delights in you.
  9. You make my day brighter.
  10. I’m grateful to call you friend.

Look for that frazzled mom in the grocery store or that shy coworker in the corner cubicle. Think of your best friend or the school secretary, the crossing guard or bus driver you pass every day. Stop and say, “Thank you for being here. You’re doing a great job. Your life makes mine better.”

My favorite thing about this is that the power of words is available, accessible, and wieldable for everyone. No one is disqualified from being an encourager.

Whether you’re a college student or a retired teacher. Whether you’ve got lots of littles hanging all over you or lots of deadlines hanging over your head. If you’re chronically ill, underemployed, or climbing the corporate ladder. If you’re happily married or happily single or going through a life-breaking divorce. No matter who you are, where you live, or what your circumstances are in this very moment, YOU can make a difference in someone’s life, one simple, encouraging word at a time.

This is an adapted excerpt from (in)courage’s upcoming book, The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact by Becky Keife, available now for preorder.

A 9/11 Prayer of Hope and Healing

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In 2001, I was an American Airlines flight attendant, serving passengers from New York to Los Angeles, Boston to Orlando, and every major city in between. A Kansas girl living in New York City, I was fascinated by the energy there, the colorful personalities, the subway camaraderie, and the constant buzz of life. That summer I moved back to the Midwest and left the excitement of the city behind, but my heart still held a vibrant picture of God’s precious creation — taxi horns, street vendors, and all.

And then, 8:46 a.m. September 11 happened. Do you remember where you were? For many of us, it was business as usual that morning. Some of us were tuned in to our TVs already, and the lighthearted morning show changed suddenly to an unimaginable scene of terror. Is this really happening right now? Are those real people?

Some were driving to work, and what came over the radio sounded like a movie trailer. This must be a mistake.

Others got a call with a frightened voice on the other end of the line.

And many wondered, What’s happening? Are we safe? Is everything going to be okay?

I thought of my fellow flight attendants flying the same routes I had flown, discovering that they would never make it to their destination. My heart broke for the city I had come to love.

Yet even today when we ask ourselves, “What is happening? Are we safe? Is it going to be okay?”, here’s what I know: God was there in the chaos, and He is with us in this moment. God’s heart breaks for His precious children, but He is never surprised by our struggles. He goes before us and can be trusted with every detail. God is our safe place today and for all eternity.

On this 20th anniversary of 9/11, we honor the memory of those who lost their lives, and we give thanks for those who had the courage to serve in the face of danger. While Patriot Day (9/11) is recognized as the official day of remembrance for this tragic event, we know that any day is a good day to lift those most impacted up in prayer.

Dear Loving Father,

We pause to remember the great losses and courageous acts of September 11th. We lift up those who are still affected — families of the victims, police officers, firemen, first responders, and all who were involved. We pray for the light of Christ to flood the hearts of people everywhere. We believe You desire to redeem Your creation, and we trust that beauty will continue to come from the ashes of those dark days. Surround us with Your mighty angels of protection, give us compassion for one another in all of life’s circumstances, and instill in us the courage to answer Your call. Amen.

This article was originally written by DaySpring friend Paige DeRuyscher and has been edited and updated for this 20th anniversary of 9/11. 

Stop and Take a Moment to Celebrate

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Winding through hillsides and sporadic homes is a tucked-away winery. Sitting on the edge of the earth with my dearest people, I let out a sigh. It was a rare evening where I got to sip on sangria, tear clumps of salty bread, and be with my husband, sister, and brother-in-law — a double date with family members and our beloved friends. We paused. We held each other in a sacred gaze, and we were held by the expansive beauty swooping under and all around us. For the past several years, my sister and her family have lived overseas, making moments like this one abundantly special.

With the sun still ablaze, we casually shared our drinks and scanned the sloping hillside. Overlooking a patchwork valley of fields and farms, we let our eyes ease our souls into the peace we had all been craving. Without formality, we passed around curious questions for each other like we passed the single menu. Safe people are easy to be with. There isn’t the temptation to fill in the silence with sarcasm or analyze pop culture. Instead, one by one, we shared our stories. Stories from adventures abroad. Stories of stress that toppled us over into a storm of tears. Stories about loneliness in a foreign world. Nibbling on slender crackers slathered with blue cheese, we listened to each other share pain, wrestle with the unknown, and live with residual regret still burrowed on our backs.

“What is it like to move into this next season with your kids all in school?” the question came to me. How do I sum my life drastically shifting in a few coherent sentences? But I tried. I rambled on and on about my youngest starting preschool and my oldest hurling his football bag over his shoulder as I watched him walk through the gates of his high school. I talked about the loss of a few things but the gain of so much more. I told them how I cried after school drop off, not because I was sad, but, oddly, I was proud. The last fifteen years have been hard. Growing babies, weaning babies, changing babies, disciplining toddlers, managing schedules, and years without sleep have been in one word — challenging. It was extremely exhausting, and I didn’t give up. I was there for the post-nap snuggles, lightning speed questions, and barrage of daily demands. I was there for the morning tea parties and afternoon forts. I was there. I did it. I got my kids to school alive and (mostly) dressed appropriately. I was proud of myself.

Then, one by one, they started clapping for me. For some, this might be the moment they turn inward, blushing with embarrassment. But, for me, I teared up.

Sometimes we forget to celebrate with each other. We forget to stop and say, “Well done.”

Even at that moment, I knew this accomplishment wasn’t mine alone. It was the work of God in me. Who I was fifteen years ago is so different from who I am today. God raised me as I raised my children. Then in the middle of the restaurant, they gave me a standing ovation. With people staring and smiling in our direction, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the ways God changed me, helped me, and grew me. I didn’t stand and take a bow, but I did cry and laugh a little too.

I’m not sure how often we stop and cheer each other on. We are quick to move into the next season without acknowledging what God has done in the past. It’s important to stop, look around, and take in the masterpiece God has painted in the world and each other.

As the evening came to a close, we snapped a few photos in front of the majestic backdrop. I let my soul soak in the creamy light floating just above the landscape. My heart was fully alive and abundantly content. Remembering God’s goodness, giving thanks for His faithfulness, and enjoying the friendships around me made my heart clap. Savoring this moment, hope welled up inside my chest. Looking out into eternity, I was wordless. I think this was my standing ovation for God’s work in my life. When God does incredible things in our lives and the lives of others, how can we not holler in praise or let the holy miracle move us into silent awe?

What can you celebrate in this moment?

Jesus Will Meet You in Your Mourning

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While waiting in line at the coffee shop on the other side of town, a familiar voice called my name. Before I turned around, I knew the face that would greet me. We weren’t meeting there to catch up. In fact, I had no idea my friend arrived moments after I walked through the door.

But I’ve heard him say my name enough times that I know his tone and cadence well enough to determine his identity with my eyes closed or my back turned.

The same is true for my family and close friends. We’ve known each other long enough that if they yelled my name in a crowded room or left a voicemail from an unknown number and simply spoke the two syllables that make up my first name, I would immediately know who was calling for me. I’ve heard my name on their lips dozens, if not hundreds, of times.

Perhaps that’s why John 20 never fails to bring tears to my eyes.

The chapter begins in darkness. Mary Magdalene discovered the empty tomb, the miracle of resurrection, before the sun began to rise. She was the first to witness the greatest promise kept, but in her confusion and grief, she ran to the disciples, fearfully and perhaps frantically saying “They have taken the Lord’s body out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”

After Peter and John ran to the tomb to confirm Mary’s account, Scripture tells us they went home.

But Mary stayed.

As she wept, she stooped down to look inside and saw two angels in the place where she last saw her Lord and Friend. “Dear woman, why are you crying?” the angels asked her.

I’d like to imagine that I would’ve understood the miracle before my eyes, but I believe Mary couldn’t see past the tears clouding her own. Swallowed by grief and doubt, it’s likely that she didn’t realize she was in the presence of angels. After all, she replied, “Because they have taken away my Lord and I don’t know where they have put him,” before turning to leave.

And then, dear Mary literally ran into her Lord.

She didn’t recognize the very One she was looking for, but He met her exactly where she was and called her by name.

“Dear woman, why are you crying?” Jesus asked. “Who are you looking for?” Thinking him to be the gardener, she replied, “Sir, if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will go and get him” (John 20:15).

And then with one word, her entire world changed: “Mary.” Jesus spoke her name, and tears fill my eyes 2,000 years later because in that moment she knew.

She knew His tone and His cadence. She knew exactly what her name sounded like when spoken on His lips. How many times had she heard it before in order to know it so well? How many conversations, how many memories made, that she knew who He was by the sound of His voice? It reminds me of something Jesus said before His death and resurrection: “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27).

She remained cloaked in darkness and doubt with “dear woman,” unable to see past her circumstances, but at the sound of her name, Light broke through.

The same is still true for us today. Our eyes may be clouded with tears, our mind full of questions and our hands full of worries, but we are invited to show up exactly as we are. Come when it’s dark and you don’t know where else to go. Come with your grief, your doubt, your confusion, and fears. Jesus won’t run away; He won’t disappear. Instead, He comes close.

The One who was called a Man of Sorrows is no stranger to sadness. He’s familiar with loss, acquainted with grief, and He has felt the sting of loneliness. He understands deeply, He sees fully, and He does not turn away. Always, Jesus will meet us exactly where we are. His tone is gentle and kind, patient and loving. Do you hear it? He’s been calling your name.

Should We Celebrate When Others Suffer?

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Our family got some terrific news last week. It was the sort of news that called for hands-in-the-air praise on the town square.

But I was so reluctant to share the good news with the people who had prayed for us most earnestly, the ones who sent daily kind words and Bible verses over texts, the ones who came to the house to pray.

Here’s why:

In the same week that our family got the answers we had prayed for, a lot of our fiercest prayer warriors didn’t get the answers we had prayed for them. One friend was heading to chemo. Another got an awful diagnosis. We were praying for them, and they were praying for us, but when we got our good news, how in the world could we share it when their worlds had been so shaken?

I have long struggled with this question of suffering: Is it okay to be happy while others grieve? How in the world can we celebrate any good fortune at all when so many others anguish despite their impassioned prayers?

We’ve all been there. Every room we walk into holds both joy and sadness. You walk into your friend’s living room for a baby shower to celebrate a new life, and there’s someone else in the room struggling with infertility or pregnancy loss.

You walk into a church sanctuary to celebrate two young newlyweds, and someone in the room found out the day before that her husband has been having an affair.

You are being wheeled out of your hospital room with your discharge papers in hand, and you hear a code blue over the intercom.

All through life, we walk in and out of rooms swollen with both joy and sorrow, celebration and suffering. The same hospital corridor that leads you home is the one where countless mothers have wept an unthinkable loss.

Can we hold the tension of both the joy and the sadness that co-exist in these rooms?

Perhaps we can. Perhaps we must.

This is the embodiment of the Biblical mandate to “rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15 NIV).

Almost every time I entertain this question of joy co-mingling with sorrow, I think of a quote from our dear (in)courage alumnus Ann Voskamp, who once wrote these words in a book that changed my entire perspective on gratitude: “I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks for . . . all the good things that a good God gives.”

When we neglect to rejoice, we deepen the wound of the world.

When we neglect to celebrate, we deepen the wound of the world.

When we neglect to give thanks, we deepen the wound of the world.

If we only allow sadness in the room, how will anyone ever know the taste of joy?

We must allow others to celebrate with us, even as we weep with them. And we must celebrate the joys of others, even as we ourselves suffer.

This is what it means to do life together, letting the bitter hold hands with the sweet in the rooms where we all dwell.

In the end, I decided to share our news with our dearest friends, these people from our small country church who so earnestly tended to us in prayer. I took a deep breath and then typed the good news into our private Facebook group, called simply “Church Group”:

Dad’s biopsy came back this morning with no cancer cells! We celebrate this good news and are incredibly grateful for all of you who visited us this week, prayed for us, called, texted, and quietly supported us in other ways. This church family has treated Mom and Dad as one of the family for many years. We also realize that so many of you who have been so supportive are going through your own hard seasons. This church family is a beautiful picture of Romans 12:15 — we “rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” We are here to weep with you, rejoice with you, and pray for you as well. We are all better together. xo

How have you experienced the tension of joy and sadness in the same room?