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

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?

Be a Peacemaker, Not a Peacekeeper

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Sometime, in recent years, it feels like the volume got turned up in our world. The internet in particular can feel like an angsty teenager blaring angry music with no concern for anyone else in the house. Social media is full of rants and arguments, strongly stated opinions and individual manifestos, subtle insults and divisive declarations. Stressful. I imagine you, like me, have sometimes wished for virtual earplugs. 

The other day a dear friend of mine expressed confusion over a particular aspect of this increased noise. “These are people I know,” she said, “and they are nothing like that in real life.” I nodded in understanding. Why would someone who is normally kind suddenly become so unmerciful online? 

Then this morning I came across these words from Scripture: “Those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest of righteousness” (James 3:18). I suddenly realized that we, as humans, so easily get mixed up about how peace always needs to come first. Sometimes there’s an issue we’re passionate about, something we’re utterly convinced is right (and it may very well be). But then we decide that the rightness is what matters most, even more than relationships. Rather than planting seeds of peace, we sacrifice peace for the sake of declaring our position or opinion on a particular subject. We somehow feel doing so is our duty. 

We probably all know someone like this — the brother-in-law who argues about politics while passing the mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving dinner, the preacher who pounds the pulpit with closed fists, the well-meaning friend who unknowingly offends the very people she wants to reach. They all have one thing in common: no matter how loud they may shout, no one is really going to listen. And if no one is listening, there is no opportunity for a response. And if there is no opportunity for a response, there is no transformation (which is true righteousness, the kind that comes from the inside out). 

What’s the alternative? For us to be peacemakers who love others so well that they want to hear what we have to say. To be people who value those who are different from us even if we don’t understand them. To build relationships one tiny seed at a time until something strong and beautiful grows. 

I believe gentleness is one of the most undervalued qualities in our culture. Yet we are invited to be “gentle at all times” (James 3:17). All times means at home, at work, in church, and on social media. Gentleness is the soil where peace can grow. 

Maybe you’re not the shouting kind to begin with and you’ve wondered if you’ve been too quiet in a world where everyone seems to be holding a megaphone. If so, let me encourage you to continue being gentle, continue being a peacemaker, continue planting those seeds. 

Maybe you’ve gotten mixed up and unintentionally put being right before relationships. If so, I imagine you’re weary and perhaps wounded. It’s time to rest. It’s time to return to peace — within your own heart and with those around you. 

One of my favorite stories in all of Scripture is when God reveals Himself to the prophet Elijah on a mountain. There is a mighty windstorm, an earthquake, then a fire, but God is in none of these. This line still takes my breath away: “After the fire there was a voice, a soft whisper” (1 Kings 19:12). God was in the gentleness. God was in the peace. God was in the whisper. God is still in the whisper. He doesn’t need to turn up the volume to make Himself heard, and He doesn’t need us to either. 

Join me in prayer today: God, You are “the God of peace” (Hebrews 13:20). Give me the courage to be a person of peace too. When I’m tempted to focus on making sure I’m telling everyone what’s right, help me remember what matters most is that they know how much they’re loved by You. You are the one who transforms hearts gently, fully, and miraculously — including my own. Amen. 

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Stress is inevitable but letting it control your life is optional. As a bestselling author, counselor, and life coach, Holley Gerth has learned a lot about dealing with stress and what truly helps. What Your Soul Needs for Stressful Times is your invitation to pause for a few moments of encouragement, peace, and strength each day. 

This 60-day devotional offers spiritual truth to soothe your soul alongside practical tools to apply that will truly make a difference. Each day, Holley offers Scripture, a prayer, questions for reflection, and inspirational quotes to help you learn to live with more peace and less pressure, more calm and less chaos, more worship and less worry. Get your copy today . . . and enter to WIN one of five copies right here*!

Just leave a comment telling us how you deal with stressful times, and you’re in the running to win.

Also, tune in tomorrow, September 8th at 12:00 pm central on Facebook for a conversation with Holley and (in)courage Community Manager Becky Keife as they discuss What Your Soul Needs for Stressful Times!

*Giveaway open to U.S. addresses only and will close at 11:59 pm CST on September 10, 2021.

The Secret Recipe for a Good Life

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My love of strawberry jam began in Lucille’s kitchen.

I wish I could share with you the intricacies of our friendship, how God had the kindness to mold a mentor out of my Sunday School teacher. There was a season in my life where I would sit at her kitchen table every Sunday morning, drinking in her wisdom with my hot chocolate.

And without fail, my breakfast included toast with the most delicious strawberry jam I’d ever tasted. I bragged about it so much that my family wanted to try it, so I asked Lucille where she bought her jar of sugary goodness.

I remember her pointing over her shoulder, to the yard beyond her kitchen window. She told me she grew her own strawberries and when the time was right, her family came over and made strawberry jam with her. She smiled warmly, the kind of smile that creases your face when the memories are sweet.

As a young teen with an old soul, I was fascinated by the idea that Lucille’s homemade strawberry jam was precious. It was likely a family recipe, which meant it was off limits to the nerdy girl trying to catch a ride to Sunday School after pathetic attempts at learning the piano.

I knew I wasn’t special enough to have the recipe for the good stuff.

But I loved it dearly — so dearly that I asked for it as a graduation present before I moved away. When Lucille presented the plastic-wrapped mason jar to me, it was too much for my heart to handle. So much in my life was changing — I was graduating high school, moving over two hundred miles away, and starting a brand new life that I was both terrified and excited to begin.

So I threw caution to the wind, stuck my heart out on my sleeve, and asked for the recipe. “I know it’s probably passed down from generation to generation, and I know I’m not your daughter or anything, but will you please share the secret recipe for your strawberry jam?”

My heart ricocheted in my chest, proving that this wasn’t really about a recipe at all. I was asking Lucille if I was special enough for her to share something sacred with me.

And I’ll never forget her response, even after all these years. Without missing a beat or making a face, she simply said, “There is no secret. I just follow the directions on the box.”

I still think of that moment each time I eat strawberry jam. I’ll smile or laugh to myself because I spent so much time believing that recipe was out of my reach when it was available to me from the beginning. All I had to do was ask.

I think I’m like that with God, too.

I make things harder than they need to be. I convince myself the things He has for me are out of my grasp. I think they’re beyond my reach or only meant for special people with special privileges, with special access — as if God has a tiered membership program and I’m forever on the bottom.

I believe I’m not right, I’m not worthy, I’m not enough.

Meanwhile, God assures me that the blood of Christ doesn’t just cleanse me, it makes me family. There’s no family secret to keep because I’m already in. He isn’t withholding anything good or right from me.

So the kindness of God — the goodness and wisdom and divine direction I can so clearly see in the lives of others — is available to me too.

I beg Him for direction. I measure and compare. “Just tell me the recipe for a good life, God,” I pray. “Tell me the secret, and I’ll use it to make You proud.” And my heart ricochets in my chest because I think if I can have a good life, or at least a life that looks good, it will mean that He loves me. It will mean that I’m enough.

But I think He echoes Lucille’s words from years ago: there is no secret.

Because it’s Him. He’s the one ingredient needed to make a good life. Everything else pales in comparison, fading into nothing as He exists into eternity.

My good life is found in Him. He is the good stuff . . . the best stuff.

That’s the easiest recipe ever.

Tell Your Story

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Welcome to the final Bible Study Monday in this series! We have been going through our Courageous Influence Bible Study for six weeks, and so far we’ve looked at:

  • Week 1, which began with a foundational statement: You are a woman of influence,
  • Week 2, which revealed that influence is about where God has placed you and your willingness to say yes to Him,
  • Week 3, which explored what it means to be a person of integrity in using our influence,
  • Week 4, which taught us to be generous with our influence, and
  • Week 5, which showed us how to be intentional with our influence.

Now we turn to the final chapter — Week 6, which explores how storytelling can be a powerful way of influencing others.

Reading Assignment

This week, read Week Six: Tell Your Story, on pages 177-208 in the Courageous Influence Bible Study. Grab your copy and start reading!

Quote of the Week

Keep this quote in mind as you read Week Six:

Each of our stories is unique to us, and they are our stories to tell.

– Grace P. Cho in Courageous Influence. Feel free to download this quote to share with a friend!

Discussion Video

Three of our (in)courage writers invite us into their conversations about Courageous Influence! Join study author Grace P. Cho along with Becky Keife and Kathi Lipp as they discuss each week of the Bible study. Listen in on their conversation about Week Six (and find all the weekly videos here):

Reflection Questions

Together in the comments, answer and discuss any of all of the following questions:

  • How does remembering and retelling narratives about your history and culture require courage from you?
  • In what ways have you found the phrase “for such a time as this” relevant to you?
  • Throughout the Bible, there is an emphasis on telling what God has done. Why do you think that is? In other words, why is telling our stories so important?

Let’s Pray Together

God, thank You for how You’ve created us for such a time as this. When the time comes for us to take a stand and use our voices and our influence for the sake of others, give us wisdom and courage to lean in even when the cost is great. Thank You for loving us so much that You did the same for us. We love You, Lord. Amen.

Remember, answer the reflection questions in the comments so we can discuss Week Six together!

Friends, thank you SO MUCH for joining us throughout these six weeks of Bible study. We will be back with another series of Bible Study Mondays starting in November as we go through the Courageous Kindness Bible Study together, right here. We hope you’ll join us! In the meantime, get a FREE week from each of the four Courageous Bible Studies and free leader resources.

What You Can Do When Your Plans Fail

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I have a confession: It’s hard for me when plans don’t work out — especially since I tend to overthink everything and spend so much time planning out what-ifs and mapping things out with a timeline and checklist. My stress levels spike when things don’t work out.

When you grow up the oldest in the family, to a single teenage mom, you learn to become self-sufficient. You figure out that the key to survival is coming up with a good plan, whether it’s figuring out which city bus routes to take to get to your school concert or summer job or how to get yourself through college. And if plans fall through, you need to work things out on your own. It was by God’s grace that my ability to plan and problem solve helped me overcome hard things and rise above my humble circumstances.

But we are not meant to carry hard things indefinitely on our own, friend. When the coping, survival mechanisms that might have worked for us at an earlier season in our lives are stretched out over time, they eventually exhaust us and make us weary. And when that happens, it’s time for God to write something new within us.

For example, with this pandemic we’re all stumbling through, our emotional tanks are depleted, and we might be wondering, “Aren’t things getting better? Why am I struggling with so much stress?” We struggle because plans are constantly changing and it seems there’s no end in sight. We feel left on our own to figure things out, and we’re barely holding it together.

Exhaustion can occur over time when we carry our burdens alone, and the soul weariness that comes with it could be the exhaustion of loneliness. 

During the pandemic, I faced more loneliness than I’d like to admit. Many of my plans fell apart, but as I wrote my new book, Sweet Like Jasmine: Finding Identity in a Culture of Loneliness, I began to see God calling me to let go of my plans.

God began showing me my old, childhood patterns of coping — staying isolated when I didn’t know what to do. I became honest with myself about the old scripts I’d been following, and I asked God to rewrite my story, making beauty out of brokenness. God invited me to let go of control, so I can make room for new things to grow.

When we can’t put the broken pieces of our plans back together, God whispers, Let me fill in the cracks with my love.

Here is a powerful metaphor I came across as I was researching material for my book. It illustrates God’s work of redeeming broken things to create beauty:

“Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending it with gold. Each piece is made more beautiful and valuable for having been broken. Gold isn’t used to hide flaws, but to highlight them. The breakage is treated as a valuable part of an object’s history to accentuate and treasure, instead of something to disguise and camouflage. 

The artist embraces flaws as a way of not only repairing broken pottery, but also as a means of transforming it into something new: an original, unable to be duplicated, work of art. 

You are God’s original work of art. Allow God to be the golden repair that lovingly holds you together, filling every crevice in your heart to bring new life, beauty, and wholeness.” (excerpted from my book, Sweet Like Jasmine)

When we don’t know what to do, instead of reaching for a plan, simply reach for God’s hand and each other. Let’s move out of loneliness and help each other look back on God’s goodness. Let’s share our burdens and the stories of faith that have shaped us.

So, today, when your plans fall through, stop and breathe. Think about God’s love, think about His goodness, and His grace that’s brought you through. Hear Jesus whisper, There is no safer place to be than right here close to Me. I will carry you through.

When you feel overwhelmed, remember that God understands. He is faithful to complete the work He started in you. He is with you. He loves you. And no one and nothing can thwart the plans God has intended for you.

So if you’re going through something hard, if plans fall through, and no end is in sight, let these words guide your heart as they have mine:

Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you.
I have made you and I will carry you.
Isaiah 46:4 (NIV)

Get a FREE audiobook, journal + book club for my new East-Meets-West book about embracing your true worth in Sweet Like Jasmine: Finding Identity in a Culture of Loneliness by signing up here! I’m so excited to encourage you with God’s love with this book! Sign up here!

Trusting in the God of Unmet Expectations

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The boxer Mike Tyson once said, “Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.” That’s how I feel about this fall. I had hoped that things would start to get back to normal by September. After all, people have been getting vaccinated, and many of the COVID-19 precautions we had been practicing over the past year, from social distancing to face masks, were shifting from required to recommended. I had also hoped that the start of the fall school year would be a reset, allowing former plans put on hold to now be possible. But with the rise of the Delta variant and the Delta plus and as many of our children and the unvaccinated are now contracting the virus, I am realizing that all my hopes and dreams for the fall are slipping through my fingers.

That trip my family had planned for later this month is now canceled.

Meeting up with local friends in person will have to continue virtually.

Inviting our neighbors over for a barbeque and watching that Sunday football game will have to wait.

Going back to regular Sunday morning services won’t be happening any time soon.

Taking my children to the library and other indoor places will still not be part of our daily rhythms.

I’ll have to get a refund for that new sports club I signed my kids up for.

This past year has been hard enough, but what makes the fall especially hard is the reality of unmet expectations. We could see the possibility of normality on the horizon before we lost it again, and that lost dream feels like a sucker punch. My heart aches for what could be and the knowledge of what has been lost. I grieve for what I could be doing or what my family should be doing right now.

But God meets me in the grief of my unmet expectations. He does not chide me for desiring good things in the midst of a pandemic, but He does challenge me to desire Him more.

Throughout Scripture, we see the people of God continually battling unmet expectations. Hannah and Rachel’s desires for children initially go unanswered. God rejects King David’s desire to build a temple. Moses’ hope to see the Promised Land goes unfulfilled. In each of these instances, God doesn’t correct His people for having longings and dreams; rather, He comforts them with His presence and reminds them that He is enough.

Sometimes we worry and stress over what we don’t have. It’s easier to complain and get angry for the doors that have been shut than practice gratitude for what we do have. But in our unmet expectations, God refines us, asking us to wait and trust that His timing is perfect. Like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, God longs for us to say to Him, “Not my will, but yours be done” (Luke 22:42). Jesus did not want to die. He even asked God to make a different path possible for salvation. However, when that request was denied, He did not lose heart because His ultimate desire was to please His Abba Father. Jesus brought every desire under the authority of His ultimate desire, which was to glorify God.

So, how can we glorify God right now in the midst of this pandemic? How can we bring our every desire captive and trust in God’s timing, even when that means continuing to wait and defer our dreams?

Our best way to cope and even thrive this fall and throughout the rest of the Covid-19 pandemic is to simplify our desires down to one — to please God. That way, whether our specific dream takes place or not, we can still have joy and delight in the present moment because our main desire is to please God. No matter what happens this fall, no matter if we remain in person or go back to virtual gatherings, no matter if the coronavirus flares up again or begins to dwindle down, we can guard our thoughts and emotions by keeping away “anything that might take God’s place in your hearts” (1 John 5:21 NLT).

Ultimately, God is greater than any vacation. God is sweeter than any gathering. God is better than any class or trip or new venture. Yes, there is space to grieve. Yes, there is space to name what is lost. But let’s also trust God in His good and perfect timing for all things. Let’s focus on how we can glorify God right now, even in the midst of unmet expectations.

How Will We Choose to Use Our Words?

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I open my computer, and it’s a not-so-gentle reminder of the hiatus we’ve had (and needed) from seeing everyone’s extreme opinions about the latest hot topic — which appears to be almost everything. 

This is not a real example but something like this:

Caption: Look at this cinnamon roll! (Photo of a bakery item the size of the moon, next to a hot cup of coffee, flower arrangement, and open Bible)

Comment 1: Yum! 

Comment 2: LOL, gluten is bad for you!

Comment 3: I ate a donut last week, and it gave me an infection in my big toe. Look at this (photo attached). 

Comment 4: My Aunt was a donut maker, and she’s also a (insert political affiliation), so we don’t eat them anymore. No thanks, can’t be associated with them! 

Comment 5: Ok, HUMBLE brag with the Bible *eyeroll emoji*

I feel my chest tighten and notice I’m holding my breath. I don’t want to do this again. I don’t want to do this anymore. 

I miss big parties, and I miss traveling like we used to. I miss seeing people’s smiles, and I miss about a trillion other little things I took for granted. But mostly I miss not feeling so willingly divided and anxious about relational stress as we approach the fall and winter. And before I can even use language to describe this anxiety, my body responds for me, and I wear my shoulders as ear muffs. My breath quickens. I wince. My brows furrow, blood rushes to my cheeks, or my stomach hurts. If you’re human with a beating heart, you probably know what I’m talking about.  

I close the computer and think about it all day: Why are people like this? Why can’t we just stop treating each other like this? I wish “she” wouldn’t have mentioned that — that makes me mad. But the more I think on it, the more I think about the human condition we need saving from: our own selves. Before you throw tomatoes at me, I didn’t come up with this idea. 

What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you? You desire and do not have, so you murder. You covet and cannot obtain, so you fight and quarrel. 
James 4:1-3 (ESV)

Ouch. That one convicted me so badly I memorized it this summer to prepare me for the fall and the potential heated debates to come. And let me say, when I’m about to actively run into an argument after reading Cousin Fred’s entire comments section in his latest fire-breathing post, I take a deep belly breath and consume truth that comes from a living and active God. I am the problem. Forgive me, Lord, for wanting to murder someone with my words, for believing I am more worthy of your gift of grace than he is. Give me the supernatural power to love someone I feel is my enemy. I can’t do this on my own. 

As believers, we should be people marked not by fear, hatred, or murderous words but by peace. We should have a desire for unity instead of desiring and actively seeking out division with our words. We should have the markings of self control and love, not unbridled tongues which have the power to set the world on fire. I don’t know if I really believed that until last year, but haven’t we all seen the power of our tongues and how they hold the power of life and death? 

Lest this start to feel a bit depressing, as we all have a personal account of our own devastating losses this year, including close relationships, we actually do have great hope. 

 I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.
John 16:32-33 (ESV)

Read that verse again. Notice how your body responds to the truth. It’s quite different from scrolling through a social media feed. Maybe like mine, your shoulders come down and your breath slows. And as the words of Scripture settle into my heart, I see things more clearly now: We are too quick to wander into the most dangerous of places with our words and thoughts, thinking we know the better path. But God is our Good Shepherd. He actively looks to bring us back to Himself, reorient our hearts toward Him, and give us the peace of His guidance, care, and protection — even from ourselves.

We are not on our own when we face difficult circumstances and conversations or when we have to navigate complicated relationships and feelings. When we see ourselves and others with the right perspective, we remember that our words, whether written in a comment or spoken out loud, have the power to give life and speak truth. 

What If We’re Supposed to Be the Answer to Our Prayer?

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The smell of coffee beans and cinnamon rolls wafted through the crowded terminal. Passengers congregated like impatient sardines near the gate, waiting for the airline employee to announce their boarding group. The flight was assigned seating, so I was happy to wait until the last minute to start breathing recycled air. I was thrilled to be heading to a writers’ retreat, but flying is not my favorite.

I was already starting to feel anticipatory nausea (it’s a thing), and the loud shrieking nearby wasn’t helping. I looked over and saw a mom and toddler in front of a vending machine. The little boy stomped his feet until his mom handed him a blue bag of Chips Ahoy.

Cookies at 8:00 a.m. aren’t going to help anyone! I thought.

Immediately, a pang of conviction trumped my snap judgment. Surely I have not been above doling out sugary snacks to my own kids to buy myself a few minutes of peace and quiet.

Lord, forgive me for being quick to judge. Please bless this mama with someone kind and loving to sit next to on the plane. Help her to see You in her day. Amen.

The traveling sardines eventually filed down the jet bridge. I followed to 17E. It was a full flight, so I was surprised to find my entire row empty. As I shoved my backpack under the seat, I had a glorious vision: three hours of uninterrupted rest and productivity. With extra space, I’d be able to concentrate on finalizing my speaking notes for the retreat and then catch a little snooze. I’d land ready and refreshed for all God had planned! I adjusted the air vent and closed the shutter. Deep breath. This might actually be a great flight.

Then there they were. The little boy with cookie crumbs on his chin, crawling into the seat next to me. The mom settled in and took off her son’s shoes. He wiggled and shrieked and wedged himself on the floor between the seats.

“I just want to apologize in advance,” she said softly.

And I knew. I knew God was answering my prayer. Be the blessing.

I took a deep breath.

“Don’t even worry about it,” I said. “I have three boys. I know contained spaces can be tough.” She smiled weakly.

The next three hours were punctuated by screaming and squirming. When Jack’s mom tried to get the toddler to rest in her lap, his feet kicked against my thigh. When the cartoon on her phone ended, when she offered the wrong snack, when he dropped his toy car for the fourteenth time, Jack wailed. His mom stayed calm.

“You’re okay,” she said.

“You’re okay,” he repeated.

Somewhere between the complimentary pretzels and the woman in front of us glaring back again, I struck up a conversation. Typical questions: How old is your son? Do you have other kids? Are you headed home or going on a trip? Jack just turned three and had two older step-siblings. They were on their way home.

“It’s not easy flying with a little one,” I said. “You’re doing a really great job.”

“Thanks. This is way better than last time.” I saw a wince of remembrance flash over her face. “Jack got diagnosed with autism a couple of months ago. He’s not very verbal and gets easily frustrated. But he started therapy, and it’s really helping.”

I had hoped this flight would be a quiet space for me to work and rest. That didn’t happen. I didn’t get to prepare for my meetings or take a nap. But I did catch a glimpse of Jesus.

The engines hummed louder as we made our final descent. Jack nuzzled closer to his mama. With a stranger’s tiny toes pressed against me, all I could think was: What if we’re supposed to be the answer to our prayer? What if we changed the way we prayed?

Instead of “Lord, bless them,” “Lord, prepare me to be a blessing.”
Instead of “Lord, show them kindness,” “Lord, empower me to be kind.”
Instead of “Lord, provide,” “Lord, give me eyes to see and a willingness to give.”

I deboarded the plane and was grateful to stretch my legs. Just beyond the gate I passed a vending machine with a row of bright blue-packaged cookies. I looked back over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of Jack. I mulled over the truth like a student rehearsing exam facts she doesn’t want to forget: Appearances never tell the whole story. Appearances never tell the whole story. Be the blessing. Be the blessing.

Three years later and I’m still rehashing this story in my mind.

Be the answer to my prayer for kindness. Be the one who sees a stranger through God’s eyes of love and compassion instead of my own judgment and inconvenience. It was only Jesus in me that prompted me to get off the high horse of my own annoyance in the airport terminal and even think to pause in prayer for this struggling mama-son pair. I’m so grateful the Lord gave His Spirit to whisper to mine.

But it’s not enough just to hear. Our faith grows legs for change when we turn that hearing into doing.

The small shift from self-focused to others-focused, from perception to action, is the beginning of the simple difference.

—

Becky Keife’s new book, The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact, will help you see more of the people in front of you, more of God’s lavish love for you, and more of His power within you.

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

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

You Have Permission to Change Your Mind

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My hands hovered over my laptop keyboard, trembling. I could blame it on the fact that it was past eleven in the morning and I’d only had coffee, but it was more likely due to the fear bubbling inside of me over what I was writing: my resignation letter.

I was quitting my job in journalism and moving onto something else. I just had no idea what that “something else” was going to be. 

My stomach flip-flopped with anxiety — not because I felt like it was the wrong decision, but because the great unknown always makes me feel a little sick. 

I’d been praying about resigning for at least six months. Or maybe a year. Or maybe a year and a half. I’d been praying about this decision for so long, I couldn’t remember when I first started. I was so terrified to make the wrong decision — terrified that if I quit my career, I would never find another. I was scared people would think I was making a mistake. I was scared God would stop providing for me.

I talked to a spiritual director about it. I journaled about it. I sought counsel from wise friends about it. I wanted God to give me a sign in the sky, spelled out with cumulus clouds, saying, “Here’s exactly what I think you should do.” 

The sign never came. Instead, God gave me a brain, good friends, prayer, the Holy Spirit, and a few sessions with a spiritual director. 

I took a deep breath before I sent the email, then clicked send, and listened as my computer made the whooshing sound it makes when an email goes off. Suddenly the career I had worked so hard for was about to change.

To my surprise, the world around me didn’t suddenly crash and burn when I sent off that email. In fact, the world remained quite intact. I remained sitting on my apartment balcony, as the birds kept chirping and the breeze kept blowing. I’d made a massive life change, and nothing fell apart. I felt a little nervous, but I also felt peace settle around me like a warm, freshly washed blanket.

We can change our minds, and God will remain the same. In Scripture, God is often compared to a rock or a fortress — a stunning mental image of steadiness, surety, and constancy. 

Psalm 71:3 says, “Be to me a rock of refuge, a strong fortress, to save me, for you are my rock and my fortress.”

Or Psalm 94:22, “But the Lord has become my stronghold, and my God the rock of my refuge.”

Or again in Psalm 62:2, “He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall never be shaken.”

Over and over, Scripture reminds us of God’s steadfastness. And in case you’re not into rock or fortress metaphors, here’s the same message even more clearly in the book of Hebrews: “Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today and forever” (Hebrews13:8). 

We have permission to make changes in our lives because we serve a God who never changes. He will always remain faithful. You can change your job, your house, your hairstyle, or your opinion. For some of us, change is a welcome relief. For others, it’s terrifying. But like an unyielding rock in the middle of a storm, God is there through it all. 

When things are changing around us — whether because we chose them or because our circumstances determined those changes for us — we can lean on the Rock who is higher, steadier, and stronger than us. Our hope, reassurance, and strength to keep going is the unchanging promise that Jesus Christ will never change. He will always be the One we can cling to, trust in, and rely on.

Maybe today, you’re at a place where you know something needs to change. You feel it deep in your bones and sense God inviting you into it. But it’s hard to take that first step. I’d love to be a friend to you today and offer permission to take that first step forward. It’s okay to make a change. Permission to make a small change — or a big one — is yours. 

My final day at my job was last week. Even though resigning felt akin to leaping off a cliff, the spot I found myself landing was the Rock who is steady beside me. He had never left me alone.

When everything is changing, God never will.

How Change Helps You See What’s Right in Front of You

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There is a town on the shore of the Hudson River, just outside of the city that never sleeps, about fifteen miles north of New York City. During the day, it glistens with views of waves and water, and at night you can watch the nearby city lights twinkle like fireflies. And the trees — wouldn’t you believe it? — New York has as many trees as skyscrapers.

It is the town I grew up in, the town I went to college in, even the town my grandfather was killed in.

My dream was to get away from this town, this county, this city, and go somewhere far away — somewhere like the college in Oklahoma that covered the pamphlets I kept sprawled across my teenage bedroom floor.

In my last year of high school, I sat in the office of my guidance counselor, all nervous and fidgety. I can still see her face framed by her long curly hair and those gentle, brown eyes. I told her I wanted to go away for college so I could get away, so I could see someplace new and become someone different.

“That sounds great,” she said. “But did you know that there’s a college nearby that sounds like it has just what you’re looking for?”

“No,” I told her. No, I didn’t know, and no, I didn’t want to go.

I told her I was happy with my plan and where I wanted to be, but out of respect for her guidance I told her I’d visit the college the next time they had orientation.

And wouldn’t you believe it, that first moment I stepped onto campus, I suddenly felt every dream I had about Oklahoma fade away, disappearing into thin air like it never belonged there in the first place. It was then that I chose that college; it was there, overlooking the same river I’d seen again and again that I realized I had fallen in love with my town for all new reasons.

Even though it never changed, even though everything about it was the same, it was like seeing it all for the very first time. It turned out, the change was in me, opening my heart to see a beauty that was always there, but that I’d never before seen.

The truth is that welcoming any change — changes in mind, heart, place, life — is like that, too. Change helps us see the beauty that has always been there but that we’d never before seen. We go on our hands and knees in search of ideals, perfection, and novelty, when what we really need to do is to look around and see that we have all that we need.

So, today, on this first day of the month that mentally cues our hearts to welcome new rhythms in work and school, a month that cues our souls to seek out squashes and pumpkins and seasonal shopping, may you center your heart to welcome change, not simply by the shifting seasons, but by the speaking Spirit. More than looking to the falling leaves and cooler weather, more than consistency coming back, more than the prospect of holidays, look to the growing softness of your own heart. Look to those things that are falling away, those things that are good and ready to be done with. Look to the places in your life where God is already at work. Look to your home, to your desk, to your nightstand, to your floors, to your feelings.

And whether the voice of the Spirit comes sweeping in slowly or suddenly, it is surely He that is speaking.

You do not need a new town, a new day, or a new season to usher in the kind of change that stills your soul to see you are already rich in all that you need and all that you need to be. There’s no need to chase or escape something or someplace to be made new. It is God who does this breathtaking work within us.

As you look forward to the changes that fall will bring, what is one thing that you can appreciate or acknowledge is good about right where you are?

Watching for God (and Finding Him) Even in Financial Insecurity

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I watch. I wait. I wonder. Some call it courage. Some call it foolish. I call it faith.

Over a decade ago, I wrote an article called, “Join Me on Our God Watch.” I invited blogging friends to join our family as we entered another “God Watch” period in our lives — my husband’s unemployment. Years ago, I coined that phrase for our children as a game of sorts. During our first extended season of financial insecurity, it was an intentional way of watching and waiting to see how the Lord would unexpectedly amaze us during a particularly difficult circumstance. Every day around the dinner table, we’d ask the kids how they witnessed God working in their life or in someone else’s.

All these years later, it’s still a family mantra. Our God Watch is a reminder to gaze at His goodness, to rest in His reassurances. But more importantly, it’s a whisper of willingness to choose joy in the midst of doubt — to live it and seek out His goodness when we feel it the least.

I chuckle as I re-read that post. Heartfelt was the God Watch invitation, but at the end I retorted, “Remind me of this in six months if we’re still unemployed, deal?” I never assumed I would need to revisit that tongue-in-cheek comment as we wrestled through an additional year of unemployment — another year of wondering how we’d pay our bills and hustling odd jobs to make ends meet. A year of attempting to model for our five children that while being in the throes of uncertainty, we stand as a steadfast gospel witness to all His things beautiful, good, and true. Throughout that season, we let them ask hard questions. We welcomed and walked with them through their doubts. When people looked at our faith and called us foolish, we believed wholeheartedly that He meant all things for our good even when we didn’t feel its evidence immediately.

This week I’ve gone down memory lane and read my “God Watch” journals to reinvigorate my spirit by His notable marks of remembrance in my life. I thought I needed that reminder in 2020, but 2021 has brought with it a whole host of new tensions.

Many of us have lost so much. We’ve lost jobs, loved ones, homes, savings. Some lost things less tangible but that have left us lonely and disillusioned. Maybe it’s the loss of goals and dreams, loss of community, friendships, or even church homes due to division. Amidst my personal wrestling, the Lord is allowing me to be a safe space for others to share these losses, but my typical Pollyanna personality is struggling. Do any of you feel like you’ve lost some of your optimism and fun? No? Just me?

That’s why I stopped in my tracks from a specific journal entry. Don’t you love how He often uses our past experiences to preach to our own heart when we need it most?

I wrote:

Satan would love nothing more than to take me down the winding road of regret and woo me into a long, whiny discussion. The kind of back-and-forth conversation that takes place in my mind — ideas primed as dagger-like darts, feelings that mull around in misery, yet with no audible words ever leaving the mouth. Oh yes, those have been some of my more lively discussions.

But, today, His faithfulness reminds me that I have the choice to punctuate my life with praise.

Praise for His security during times of uncertainty. Praise for the little things since they are reminders of the big things. Like the way the stars twinkle so much brighter snuggling on a blanket with my husband and children. Or the way my teen age son guzzles the soda straight from the two-liter as I type. No sky-rocketing mommy annoyance now. I am so thankful he’s journeying with us, choosing to be “an untypical teen” during this learning transition. (FYI: Now that teen is married, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to see them chase after Jesus together, but I wish he was in our kitchen this second guzzling from the bottle. I miss it.)

How about when my favorite grocery store tripled their coupons the very week I needed to stockpile my favorite items or the “trash to treasure” finds that I uncovered at last weekend’s yard sale?

Ah yes . . . finding joy in things I had entirely missed before deepens my faith walk. It’s a reminder of how this extended “God Watch” season can grow us deeper, make us more intentional, and reveal to us the little blessings that are so often overlooked.

So here’s to finishing a year of no steady job, but I’m still testifying that He is good.

August 2021 Serious Jen needs that reminder from 2008 Jen.

As our summer starts winding down and uncertainty begins ramping up, let me testify again that no matter the circumstance, “He is the same yesterday, today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8). He is a God of faithfulness who fights for us, forever desiring our best, and a God who wants us to find Him in every season and every part of our lives.

What are you finding on your own God Watch journey?