Getting Honest About Depression and Anxiety

Getting Honest About Depression and Anxiety

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I will be with you when you pass through the waters, and when you pass through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you. You will not be scorched when you walk through the fire, and the flame will not burn you.
Isaiah 43:2 (CSB)

I’m standing on a stage in front of a crowd of women. I see teenagers with side ponytails, sweet mamas in skinny jeans, and lovely silver-haired seniors. I wish for the chance to have coffee with them all, to hear their stories one by one. So I do what I consider to be second-best — I tell mine.

I come to the part about how we all have bullies in our lives. Mine hassled my elementary friends and me after school, until one day he called me a word none of us were supposed to utter under any circumstances. At this point I decided to take matters into my own hands. Although the quiet and gentle type, I promptly pushed him down — without causing injury or serious concern from any adult authorities — and sat on his back until he promised to repent of his bully ways. The audience laughs at this, and I tell them I wish this was my only encounter with a bully. But I still fight them every day.

My grown-up bullies are anxiety and depression, two words we can be hesitant to say at church. Yet the psalmist freely confesses, “I am deeply depressed” (Psalm 42:6 CSB). Struggling with depression or anxiety doesn’t mean we are spiritual failures, we’ve disappointed God, or we’re not strong enough. This is what I have come to believe: we live in a fallen, broken world, and if we are in a battle, it simply means we are warriors.

I declare this to the women in the room, and after the session, one of the leaders says to me, “When you said those words, I could hear a collective sigh of relief.” After I finish speaking, a line of women that stretches almost out the door forms in front of me, and one after another says either “Me too” or “My daughter struggles with depression and anxiety.” If you’re reading this and you or someone you love is in this battle, know you’re not alone.

The hope in all this is that Jesus has promised us victory. I believe I will likely have to fight this battle as long as I’m on this spinning earth. But through a plan that includes every part of who I am — spiritual, emotional, social, physical, and mental — these days I’m winning more than I’m losing. I also have partners in the fight, including a counselor, a doctor, and good friends who speak truth to me on the days I can’t remember it. (When people ask me what to do next about their depression and anxiety, I always recommend starting with a trustworthy biblical counselor.)

What we don’t talk about, what we keep secret, where we let shame and guilt take hold are the places in our lives where we remain defeated and unhealed. So I’m speaking publicly about this struggle with you too.

Depression and anxiety are part of my life, but they’re not the boss of me. They’re also not my identity. I’m strong, brave, and loved. I’m a daughter of God who has been promised victory. So are you. There is no shame in being a warrior. Fight on.

Lord, like the psalmist, I long to freely confess my truth. I am deeply depressed. Yet even as I speak those words, the next to fly out of my mouth is the truth that as I fight, I am a warrior, and in that there is no shame. Thank You, Lord, for the victory of speaking up, of not keeping secrets, of healing and identity. Help me live into mine. Amen.

This devotion was written by Holley Gerth and appears in our devotional Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay. This collection of courageous stories from forty-four different authors is where you can find your story reflected — from struggling with weight, anxiety, and depression to suffering through miscarriage and grieving the death of a husband; from experiencing injustice and questioning our purpose to walking through church disappointments, loneliness, and infertility. The Take Heart writers share from the depth of their hearts and experience so that you will know beyond a doubt that you are not alone and that you are (and always have been) loved.

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This book is an offering of hope, from one heart to another — sister to sister, friend to friend. We can’t wait to help you take heart.

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Bring Your Unfiltered Ache to Jesus

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The ache came from out of nowhere.

I was sitting on the beach at the conservation area near my house. It’s less of a beach and more of a man-made lake, but it’s water and sand and it’s only a three-minute drive from my apartment. I sat on my turquoise fold-out beach chair, feeling the hot sun on my shoulders. 

It was perfect, really. It was my Sabbath, the weather felt like summer, and I was stretched out on warm sand with water close by. I was with people I love, and a novel I’d been waiting to read was splayed out on my lap. 

But then a pang shot through me. The pang settled into an ache, weighing heavy.

It hurt — not physically — but I could feel it in my body and in my heart. A pang of loneliness, an ache of longing. 

It made no sense for me to be lonely because I was with people I love, in a place I love. Saturdays are precious to me because I can be extra intentional at surrounding myself with people whom I love and who love me. Saturdays are a way to prevent my loneliness. 

And yet, it didn’t seem to matter. The ache was still present. 

I often think I can fix the ache if I can just get married, then maybe have a child. Or if I find a more fulfilling job, distract myself with Netflix and good novels, or surround myself constantly with people, the ache will leave. 

But so far, the things from that list that I’ve tried aren’t working. 

I’ve begun to wonder if maybe I’m not the only one with the ache. Maybe all of us — single or married — have this ache deep within. Maybe the ache isn’t dependent on relationship status, but on the simple fact that being a human is exhausting and is often accompanied with a union of joy and sorrow. Just when I begin to feel one of those feelings, I often feel the other shortly after.

Jesus knows exactly what it’s like to be an exhausted human, filled with commingled joy and grief. He got tired. He got sad. (Maybe more tired and more sad than you and I can ever comprehend.) 

Jesus knows everything about us. He knows our disappointments. He knows how ashamed we can feel. He knows about our loneliness, our embarrassment, our discouragement, our doubts. He knows when we question if He’s good or if He’s even listening at all. 

But for us, these feelings can be complicated. For a long time, I’ve believed the lie that I need to somehow figure things out or sort through my emotions or muster up more faith before bringing my heart to Jesus. 

But Jesus already knows. He literally knows everything about me already. Why do I think I should keep these confusing parts of my life from Him? 

Jesus knew my ache on that beach. He could see the ache, the way it pierced every part of me. So instead of running from the ache — and instead of running from Jesus — I decided to simply bring it to Him. I brought Him my achy heart and was met with the deepest compassion. 

I prayed while I sat on that beach. I prayed while I packed up my chair and my book. I prayed while walking to my car, my flip flops crunching the gravel beneath me. And all I prayed was this: Jesus, the ache is back. Jesus, the ache has returned again. 

A huge part of me wanted Jesus to fix it, to sweep that ache away with a touch of His hands. But He didn’t fix it. 

Instead, He walked beside me. As I got into my car and drove away from that beach, the ache accompanied me. But so did Jesus. 

No matter what we are feeling — no matter how embarrassing, or shameful, or discouraging — we can bring it all to Jesus. We don’t have to be afraid of our emotions. We can gather them up, handing our fistful of feelings over to the Lord, who already sees us. We will be met with compassion and the deepest love. 

Bring your ache, friend. Bring it out into the light of Jesus.

Season One, Episode 02: What is Joy?

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We are back with another episode of the new (in)courage podcast!

This week, Becky Keife and Mary Carver dive into this season’s topic of courageous joy by starting with some foundational questions. They ask (and answer), “What is joy? And why is it important?”

After sharing their own understanding of joy and why it’s so crucial to each and every one of us, Becky and Mary take a look at the story of the prodigal son. (You can find the full story in Luke 15:11-32.) They look at the role joy plays in each of the characters and discuss how we can experience true joy when we understand God’s lavish love, acceptance, and provision.

In this episode, we also hear from Aliza Latta, (in)courage contributor, as she shares her own story of joy from Week One, Day Two of Courageous Joy.

Every episode of this podcast will end with a Bible verse for the week. This week, we reflect on Romans 15:13:

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Whether you’ve gone through the Courageous Joy Bible study, haven’t started it yet, or haven’t even heard of it, you’re invited and welcome to join us for this series of conversations. Pick up your copy of Courageous Joy at DaySpring.com — use code PODCAST25 to save 25% + get free shipping!

Play the episode and subscribe below so you don’t miss a minute! You can find the (in)courage podcast anywhere you listen to podcasts.

Then tune in next week as Becky and Mary are joined by Robin Dance to talk about what it means to find our joy in the Lord. See you then!

Hosts
Mary Carver: website, Instagram, Facebook
Becky Keife: website, Instagram, Facebook

Guest
Aliza Latta: website, Instagram, Facebook

The Church Is Still Worth Fighting For

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Recently, I was sitting at the pool with a fellow mama, sunbathing, chatting about life, and being splashed repeatedly by our energetic toddlers, when our conversation turned to the church. It was one of those raw conversations you don’t expect to have while lounging on a pool noodle and chasing a three-year-old. Yet that’s exactly where the Spirit led us that day. I was surprised by how natural and vulnerable we were with each other as we shared deep wounds we’d experienced from different churches over the years — the hurtful words that had been said about us, the people who had tried to silence us because we were women, the toxicity of certain leadership teams, and the undervaluing of pastor’s families. We both marveled that, despite the pain and rejection we’d gone through, neither of us had chosen to quit on the church. In fact, our conversation quickly turned to why we still love the church and why we believe the people of God are a mess worth fighting for.

Talking with my friend that day nourished my soul. More than once in the past, after a heartbreaking incident in the church, I’ve had friends encourage me to do the opposite: leave church altogether and take to social media to share about what happened. Drop names, I was told. Blast this mess on the internet and shame the people involved. There certainly have been occasions where I would have even been justified to publicly share the way a person or a church treated me and my husband, but I’ve never done so. Even though I’ve been deeply hurt by fellow brothers and sisters in the Lord, I love the church. And when you love someone, you don’t shame them.

My love is certainly not naive. I understand full well the church’s dark and ugly sins. This past decade alone has witnessed the #churchtoo movement, and we continue to hear stories of sexual abuse and misogyny across denominations. Racial pain is ripping through congregations, and the exodus of Black and Brown Christians is growing. Wherever you look, churches are splintering, and folks are feeling othered — even leaving the faith — because of fights over politics, theology, and more. The church is a mess right now, and the shrapnel that has exploded from it has hit me deep and personally. But despite it all, I’m committed to seeing the church flourish.

There is nothing so sweet as the church living out its calling in the world. In the Bible, the church exists to advance the good news of the gospel throughout the world (Matthew 28:18-20) and to edify believers (1 Thessalonians 5:11; Jude 20). When a church is healthy, brothers and sisters bear one another’s burdens, gently restore one another (Galatians 6:1), comfort, exhort, edify, pray for, and forgive one another. When this happens, men and women alike are treated with respect, equality, and dignity, and the body of Christ grows deeper in their love for God and each other.

I can’t say I know many churches that live out their biblical calling. The church is made of broken, messy people, which means the church is messy and broken too. But when we choose to stay in the mess and not turn our backs on the brokenness, we position ourselves to help make the church stronger. When we choose not to leave the church, we open ourselves to God’s heart to model, teach, and invite our fellow brothers and sisters to a better way. 

I think of Jesus’ deep love for the church. Ephesians 5:25 says that “Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” The people of God — people like you and me — shamed, humiliated, abused, and killed the son of God, and yet Jesus did not burn them. Instead, He chose to lay down His life for us for our own salvation. 

Of course, I’m not saying that a person who is experiencing racism or being sexually, emotionally, or spiritually abused at a church should stay as a gesture of love. Those are not safe or healthy situations, and they should not be tolerated.

However, we can love the church and also call out its sins. We may choose to attend a different congregation for our own safety or have hard conversations with elders and pastors about the culture of a church and what needs to change for all people to be welcome. We can be angry when we see people go unheard and unappreciated, while channeling that anger into productive conversations that point people back to Christ and God’s Word. When leaders do wrong, we can keep them accountable by having them step down from their position or even reporting the incident to the police, while also figuring out how to love them through the process.

Perhaps many of you have been hurt by the church like me. My encouragement for you is to keep fighting for the church. Each time the church disappoints, remind yourself of God’s heart for the church and the reasons why it exists. Consider whether He might be inviting you to stay instead of walking out on the mess and the brokenness and how He might work through you to bring healing, hope, and love.

I dream of a time when the world truly sees the love of God through the fellowship of believers, and I am committed to playing an intentional role in seeing that vision come to fruition. Let’s not give up on the church because it is still worth fighting for.

In Christ, We Are Women of Influence

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Now that same day two of them were on their way to a village called Emmaus, which was about seven miles from Jerusalem. Together they were discussing everything that had taken place. And while they were discussing and arguing, Jesus himself came near and began to walk along with them.
Luke 24:13-15 (CSB)

I was in the middle of a wilderness season, spiritually parched and lost, unsure of the answer to every who, what, where question I was asked. I had stepped away from church ministry, uprooted my family from our home city of seven years, and moved back to my husband’s childhood home to live with his parents. The move wasn’t a part of the original plan we had been so sure God had for us when we first moved into our community and church. But for a solid year, God confirmed and affirmed that being with family, taking risks with our careers, and entering into a wilderness was exactly where He wanted us to be.

We came into this new chapter of our lives with naive hopes and dreams — of me starting a writing career and of my husband opening up a restaurant. It made sense that this was the time to do these things, with extra hands for childcare and saved up resources. We were ready to take on whatever would come our way, holding hands and cheering each other on.

But a wilderness season is just that — a wilderness. We can’t predict next steps or plan for the future because no clear path is available. There are dangers we can’t avoid and pitfalls we don’t expect. Our weakest points become exposed with nowhere to hide and nothing to cover ourselves.

Though we knew it would be difficult, we couldn’t have imagined the pain, the disappointment, the confusion that would ensue. My husband’s desire for a restaurant stalled and eventually staled. Our marriage became fragile, every painful silence and harsh word creating a chasm between us. My mental health crumbled into depression and suicidal ideation. I didn’t know who I was outside of my role as wife, mother, and daughter-in-law, and it seemed that my gifts of leading and pastoring others were no longer needed.

And in that emptied place is where God showed me that my influence hadn’t ended.

I ran into a young woman, a friend of a friend’s, at a local church seminar on racial reconciliation, and though we had met one-on-one a few times before, we were still getting to know each other. In a room full of strangers, I was relieved and grateful to see a familiar face. We chatted in between sessions, and at the end of the seminar, she approached me and asked if I’d consider mentoring her.

I was taken aback by her question. Who was I to invest in someone? What did I have to pour out to her? Surely I wasn’t in the right place spiritually, emotionally, and mentally to be of any use. But as these thoughts swirled around my mind, I also inquired of God: What do You think I should do? And almost immediately, I felt God answer, If others don’t walk with you during your wilderness season, how will they know how to walk through theirs?

Before I could second guess myself, I heard the word “yes” come emphatically out of my mouth. She squealed with delight, and instead of squirming in regretful doubt, I was at perfect peace.

Over the next year or so, we spent time together, read books, had meals and coffee. We didn’t follow a discipleship program or center our mentorship on gaining more knowledge for the sake of our spiritual growth. Instead, we built a friendship. We committed a designated time each month to meet and talk and kept to it as best we could. We walked together through our doubts and fears, witnessed each other’s grief, and celebrated the breakthroughs. And through it all, we saw God.

The last thing I thought I’d do during my wilderness season was to mentor, but no matter who we are or where we’re at in life, we all have influence to share. Influence is simply the capacity to affect change on someone. It isn’t only for pastors and leaders in the church. It’s not about having a position of power or years of experience. It has nothing to do with age or gender or how much clout we already have.

And influence might look different for every person. It can look like using our gifts, skills, time, and effort. It can be about where God has placed us — our location or our proximity to someone else or the role we play in our families, jobs, and communities. All of us have been given influence in Christ, and we are to use it to encourage and lead others toward Him.

Wherever we are, however God has made us, in Christ, we are women of influence.

Story by Grace P. Cho, as published in HomeLife Magazine

Our next Bible study, Courageous Influence: Embrace the Way God Made You for Impact, written by our editorial manager Grace P. Cho and featuring stories from (in)courage writers, is for you, whether you feel you have influence in your life or not. And we guarantee that you do!

Sign up here, and we’ll send you a FREE week from each our first four Bible Studies! Yep, we’ll send Week One + discussion videos from Courageous Simplicity, Courageous Joy, Courageous Kindness, and Courageous Influence. Read each at your own pace and decide which one resonates most with you!

His Steadfast Love Holds Us in the Darkest Night

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A few days ago my youngest child woke me up crying in the middle of the night, perhaps with a bad dream. He’s normally an excellent sleeper. He came to live with us several months ago, and this was the first time he’d woken in the night.  

When I walked into his room, he was sobbing loud, gulping cries — the kind where you can’t quite catch your breath. Oh, I’ve been there, buddy. I scooped him up, and we settled into a rhythm, snuggled in the rickety old rocking chair. Right away, he stopped crying, and his agitated breaths settled down. As we rocked in the dark, I stared straight ahead in hopes he’d fall back asleep quickly. 

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he was staring at me. As soon as I saw his face I recognized that look — I’d seen it on the faces of my four other children in the dark of night in that same rocking chair. His sweet face had a soft, relaxed look granting me the power to whisper that everything was okay, to tell him who he is, to restore all things to right-ness. And his eyes held an expectation that I would. So I did. 

I whispered to him he was my good boy and that everything was indeed all right. I assured him that he was loved. His eyelids slowly began to fall, even as he kept his eyes on mine. Soon, dark lashes rested on pale pink cheeks, and his breath slowed to an even rhythm, the rise and fall of his belly pressed right up next to mine. 

Our little guy came to us when he was two years old. We’d been parents four times over at that point, long accustomed to the wonder of watching a child grow up. But when we welcomed this child through adoption, bringing with him a story that’s only his to tell, we found something new to marvel at.  

Attachment, that mysterious, primal mixture of love and need and attunement, doesn’t just happen. Attachment takes intention. It builds moment upon moment, like sand filling an hourglass lifting itself up to the top. Reaching for a hand that you know for certain will be there — well, it takes time to get to the knowing part. It takes being held, being honored, and being heard over and over again.

I held his warm body against my own and let it sink in. Attachment to God works in much the same way. Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day He responds and attunes to us, renewing the bond and rewiring the mind as He makes all the hard things into something new again. 

God reminds us we have a loving Father at every opportunity. It echoes through Scripture right into the rhythm of our own lives because He knows how important it is for us to understand His love is steady and sure. In Psalm 136, the phrase “His steadfast love endures forever” occurs twenty-six times. It’s repeated every other line in every single verse, beating like a thundering drum tapping out a message of stability, hope, and assurance. Powerful and tangible, it’s a phrase to grab hold of.  

The Psalm reaches back in time and reminds the reader that the same God who made the heavens and earth, the same God who parted the Red Sea, the same God who made kings and struck — His steadfast love endures forever. It covers the past like a blanket, the hard parts and the wonderful parts, the threads weaving in and out of our experiences creating a tapestry He does not want us to miss. Forever means past, present, and future, and His steadfast love covers it all. It’s an integral part of each of our stories — in fact, it’s the most important part.  

God will love us forever. He will tell us who we are, and He will let us attach to Him. We can know the feel of His arms, the sound of His voice, and the depth of His heart because He uses every verse, every story, to remind us that we are His Beloved. 

When the tears come, when the hard parts of our stories do their worst, He is there in the darkest hour of the night. We can trust Him, and we can be expectant that His arms will encircle us, reminding us who we are in His love. 

Choosing to Believe You’re Worthy of Happiness

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Would my mother Ah-Ma come to my wedding? I didn’t know.

One morning, seventeen years ago, I stepped into my Western bridal gown as American Bonnie for our church wedding ceremony, where my husband and I would exchange our vows. Later that night, I changed into my red Chinese wedding silk dress as Asian Bonnie at our wedding banquet.

The traditional silk dress is called cheongsam in the Cantonese dialect spoken in Southern China GuongDong where my parents are from. They escaped to British Hong Kong when the Communist party rose to power during the Cultural Revolution launched by Mao Zedong.

In Mandarin, the silk dress is called chi-pow. Brides wear red to symbolize good fortune and happiness for a new life as a couple.

That day was significant for me. Choosing happiness for myself was very different from the expectations I grew up with. I was taught to focus on the greater good, on what would be helpful and loving for others. Up to that point in my life, most of my life decisions had revolved around making choices for my family — my mother, who was a single mom, and my sister, who was five years younger than me.

I didn’t grow up in a cookie-cutter family that had a mom and dad, so I wondered if I could have the kind of whole-family happiness I’d always longed for. Did I deserve it, or was that selfish?

Happiness was more of an afterthought for me. It was nice when happiness was a part of my experience, as a side benefit to the responsibilities I shouldered. But to choose something simply because it gave me happiness? That seemed too extravagant.

Was I even worth happiness for my own sake if it didn’t serve other people?

So, choosing my husband — a soulmate with whom I’d define happiness together as a couple and later as a family — was a new territory of faith for me.

The morning of my wedding day, I wasn’t sure if my Ah-ma would be there, but I felt God’s peace as the sunlight sparkled through my window to greet me.

A Scripture came to mind, and I heard my loving Savior Jesus whisper,

You are precious to me
and I have given you a place of honor.
I love you.
Isaiah 43:4 (ERV)

The rest of that day was complicated, juggling so many different expectations from various people, but the one thing I remember most about our day was this Scripture from my Heavenly Father.

Happiness is not just important in the Chinese culture but in every culture God created. It gives God joy to see us blossom with happiness. This truth seems so simple and so obviously true to our minds, but will we take steps to embrace it in our hearts and live it out as God’s beloved?

Especially now, as we emerge from the pandemic, we need to keep choosing joy because in a world filled with doubt and division, choosing joy is a step of faith. 

When we feel lonely, longing for companionship, we need to remind ourselves that Jesus understands our desire. Lean into Him. He can make a way for you because nothing is impossible for Him. He’s not holding back from you but wants to see you blossom with happiness. I don’t know what that might look like for you, but the truth is we’re all on a journey to find belonging out of loneliness and beauty out of brokenness. We all want wholeness and love, and God sees that.

Friend, you are worthy of happiness in the unique way that speaks of God’s love, joy, and peace to you personally. What might that look like for you as we emerge from the pandemic? Could it be renewed friendships, a dating relationship, traveling, or simply doing more of what you’re doing now? Whatever it is, go and do that. Joy is meant for us in Christ. God delights to delight you because you are precious to Him.

Choose to believe His joy is for you.

Get a FREE audiobook, journal + book club for my new East-Meets-West book about finding 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!

The Greatest Ruining of My Life

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When I first discovered my husband was having an affair, my whole world quite literally fell apart. I had put my identity in being a good Christian wife, with a good Christian family, sitting in the front row at church and leading a Bible study. I had a formula where A+B=C, as in I am a good girl, so God will bless me and that equals no suffering. But then, suddenly, I wasn’t any of those things anymore. Why would my husband leave if I was good, and why did I need so much help with my children when I was in despair? I’m neither a good wife nor a good mom, so what am I?

To call it a rude awakening is putting it lightly.

It was jolting, and at the time, I wondered why God would allow this to happen to me — His A+ servant doing so much good for Him! I was out there helping people for the Lord, and I didn’t really need that much help myself. I was the one making meals for people and doing the yard cleanups — good thing God was so lucky to have me doing all this work! (I’m being cheeky, and it’s funny now to say these things out loud.)

But this was my awakening, however rude it felt. It was when I finally understood the gospel deep in my bones. Before my husband was even repentant, I felt like God was asking me to forgive him. I wrestled with God a bit on this concept, “He didn’t even say he was sorry. I don’t think he even feels sorry!”

A Scripture passage I had written several months before and never erased glared at me from my chalkboard:

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.
Ephesians 4:32 (NIV)

It seemed like God kept asking me more questions, But how did I forgive you?

Romans 5:8 came to mind as an answer, “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” That Scripture memorization I dragged my feet on as a teen was popping up at just the right time!

While he was still sinning, God had asked me to mimic the gospel to my husband. It was difficult but supernatural work. I don’t tend to want to forgive those actively sinning against me. I’d actually prefer to take a baseball bat to their windshield or demand that I deserve better. But God showed me that I deserved eternal separation from Him, but He still calls me friend. He calls me daughter and gives me an inheritance even though I chase after other things outside Him to find my identity. The gospel confronted me deeply in those tender moments where God was so near to me. 

I can’t begin to tell you all the work God did in my heart during the time my husband and I were separated. We would need 1,000 hours for me to describe it all. But what I can say is that God turned one week into one year with all He did to mend me. I promise you He held the sun from setting just for my heart to supernaturally heal. I came out of that week a forgiving machine, renewed, strong — I had been with God. I forgave the other woman freely. I forgave my husband. I forgave those who knew and didn’t tell me. 

It needs to be said that forgiveness is an alone game, but reconciliation is a together game. I worked alone for a long time to get healthy and strong and to believe that no matter what happened in the future, God would take care of me and that He would redeem my situation even though it might not mean staying married. I had to sit in the in-between for many months, and it was extremely uncomfortable to trust that God knew the perfect timing of events to come.

One monotonously normal day when I was standing at the door with a baby on my hip, I saw my husband walking down the street after not speaking to him for several weeks. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He came to the glass door, and I barely cracked it open, as if it were protecting me from further hurt.

“You’re it for me. I don’t deserve to have you back, but you’re all I will pursue for the rest of my life. I will do whatever it takes to come home. If you can forgive me. If you’re willing.”

I cried. Yes, it was what I had hoped for. But “hope deferred makes the heart sick” (Proverbs 13:12), and my heart had been sick for a while watching my husband choose his sin. But the other part of the verse is this: “but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.”

It has not been easy, to say the least, in our long healing journey, but my marriage has been a tree producing a wonderful friendship with my husband and shade for those walking through marital hardship. It has produced two more children and the most delightful fruit in my own heart in knowing God deeply. All because God let me walk through the most terrible and most gorgeous gospel identity awakening of my life. 

To Him be the glory.

For help on going through marital hurt and betrayal, visit Jami’s website where you can find links to videos, podcasts, and other resources.

And Even If He Does Not

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I sat five rows from the front, right side of the auditorium. In the half-hour before, I’d heard a compelling and convicting sermon on Luke 11 and the power of prayer. Jesus left no doubt as to the purpose and potential of prayer. His instructions read black and white:

So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. Luke 11:9-10 (NIV)

To put an exclamation point on the message, the pastor then directed our attention to a video. The video told the story of a woman who had been unexpectedly diagnosed with cancer. A routine CT revealed multiple large masses — advanced and terminal disease. She was devastated, overwhelmed. So she drove to her local church and asked for prayer. Three people surrounded her, laid hands on her, and prayed for her healing and peace. Comforted by the prayers of strangers, she left the church, ready to face whatever came.

Two weeks later, she awoke from the surgery to discover the cancer had disappeared. The tumors didn’t shrink or reduce in number. They simply vanished! When the team of doctors opened her up, they could find no evidence of disease. A miracle!

My heart leapt in celebration with this woman and her unexpected healing. What a gift! God’s goodness and generosity astounds me.

At the same time, I know of too many who haven’t received such a miracle. The tumors didn’t disappear. One surgery became the first of many. The hope of a quick healing became a life shortened by disability or death. When considering such, Jesus’ apparent black-and-white words become a murky grey of disillusionment and confusion.

Why does God deliver some miracles and seemingly withhold others? Why does He heal one woman and not another? Why pray when it delivers such unpredictable results?

I’ve been fighting cancer on and off for almost eleven years now. This is my longest stretch without a recurrence, and for that I’m thankful. At the same time, the fear of it hovers on the fringes, reminding me that I live on borrowed time. Perhaps that is my miracle, still being here.

And yet, I live with the pain and disability of a body that’s been ravaged by disease and the treatments to overcome it. Some days living doesn’t feel like a healing, the pain wears a soul down. Some days I question even while I give thanks: Why the many years of suffering?

I find great comfort in an old, familiar story of three men in the book of Daniel. Faced with being burned alive in a furnace of fire for refusing to worship false gods and a pagan King, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego had to choose: denounce their confidence in the One True God or believe Him one more time.

Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to him, “King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”
Daniel 3:16-18 (NIV)

Our God is able, and he will deliver . . . 

But even if he does not . . . 

Hidden in these two phrases is my secret for making peace with the prayers that are answered and those which are not. My God is able, there is no doubt in my mind. He can make tumors disappear, bring prodigals home, heal marriages that are broken. He can make a way where there is no way, and He has done so more times than you and I know.

But even if He does not, He is still worthy of my worship. I trust Him in the healing and the absence of it. I trust Him in the answers and in the questions. I trust Him in what I know and what I do not know.

Why?

Because I need Him more than I need healing. He is my rock, my joy, my True North. The object of my affection isn’t this body, this life. It’s the face of the One who saved me. And although I’ll keep praying bold and audacious prayers, I do so knowing He’s already given me what I need most:

Himself.

Keep praying, my friends. Keep asking, seeking, knocking, and believing, with great boldness and confidence. Our God is able to deliver you. But even if He does not, remember:

What you and I need most is not the thing we’re praying for but the One we’re praying to.

A Forgiveness Beyond Comprehension

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I used to keep a mental highlight reel of my worst offenses. At the end of even the best day, my brain could hit the play button, and as scenes of my sins scrolled across the screen of my mind, I became so depressed and discouraged it was hard to see the light.

Although I confessed those sins to God and asked for His forgiveness, I couldn’t seem to forgive myself. I continued to beat myself up for the same things, over and over, with no end in sight, until one day I heard something that both shocked and shook me to the core: To confess a sin, repent, and then continue to ask God’s forgiveness for it multiple times (when you aren’t repeating the sin) is a form of pride.

Did I believe my sins were so enormous and unique that they were beyond His ability to forgive?

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

Why was I rejecting the forgiveness He offered me? In spite of the magnitude of God’s mercy and of the sins I know He’d forgiven, why did I act like He couldn’t handle mine?

We see divine forgiveness in action in the story of King David, who took what wasn’t his in Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite, and then orchestrated Uriah’s death by sending him to the front of the fiercest battle where the other troops withdrew, leaving him unprotected. David compounded his original sin against Uriah in order to cover up the fact that Bathsheba was pregnant with his child, not Uriah’s.

David did not recognize the scope of his sin until it was exposed to him by the prophet Nathan, using the parable of the ewe lamb. David repented and then followed the Lord the rest of his days, serving and honoring Him. God is merciful and forgives even the biggest of sins when we repent and follow Him. He uses broken people like David, the Apostle Paul, and you and I for His glory.

David could have removed himself from the narrative and wallowed in his own guilt for the rest of his life. Instead he confessed and repented before God and then led Israel as God’s chosen king for forty years. David was a man after God’s own heart (Acts 13:22), and for David’s sake, the Lord blessed his descendants even when they didn’t follow Him as David had (1 Kings 15:3-4).

David’s story comforts me because how often do we beat ourselves up for past sins even after we’ve confessed them to God and asked His forgiveness? We can dwell on them until we sink into inertia and no longer believe we have anything to contribute, but surely God prefers we take Jesus‘s advice to “go, and sin no more” (John 8:11). Accept the forgiveness, resist the sin next time, and continue to serve Him.

Once I recognized how prideful it was to believe God could forgive the sins of others but not my own, I’ve never looked at myself in the same way. Our difficult experiences, both the failures and the grace that covers them, can deepen our capacity for sympathy and empathy toward others. And our darkest trials can become our greatest testimonies.

God’s grace and capacity for forgiveness are beyond comprehension. When we give in to guilt and focus too much on our role as the villain in our own life story, we forget that God is the hero who has redeemed us. Let’s remember that we are covered in grace. Let’s live in the freedom of His forgiveness.

He hath not dealt with us after our sins; nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.
For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them that fear him.
As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.
Psalm 103:10-12 (KJV)

Grace Invites Us Back to the Table Again

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Our husbands were out of town so my friend, Vicki, and her kids came over for dinner. Hot dogs and hamburgers were on the grill and crispy French fries would be coming out of the oven in twenty minutes. Our kids were playing in the living room when we heard a horrible scream and ran to see what happened. Joshua, my then seven-year-old son, was balled up on our living room floor, screaming, “Andrew bit me!”

I lifted Joshua’s shirt to discover a large, bright red bite mark on his hip. Infuriated and embarrassed, I told Andrew, my then four-year-old, to go to the bathroom and wait for me.

Although taking care of Joshua should’ve been my first priority, my focus zoomed in on what the consequences should be so Andrew would NEVER bite another human again. But I also didn’t want to discipline him in anger, so I took a deep breath and shifted my attention to Joshua. I started a mental list of worst possible punishments: Andrew would eat dinner by himself upstairs and go to bed early, no screen time for a week and none of his favorite toys to play with either. Maybe I should put soap in his mouth too? I knew he’d hate that!

Once I knew Joshua was okay and dinner wasn’t going burn, I walked Andrew upstairs to his room, away from everyone else. I still wasn’t sure what to do, but the Lord reminded me it was Andrew’s heart that needed to be dealt with first. His actions would follow.

Andrew cried the whole way upstairs, and as we sat together in his room talking about why he bit Joshua and better ways to deal with anger, he broke down sobbing and said, “Mommy, I just want to pray.”

Andrew told God he was sorry for biting Joshua, asked forgiveness, and then ended with, “God, please help me never do that again.” Afterward, he looked up at me and muttered, “I’m such a bad person. I do such bad things.”

My anger melted into sadness listening to Andrew’s self-condemning thoughts. I wanted to help him see himself and his sin separately. So I looked into his eyes and said, “Andrew, you are not a bad person. I’ve seen you be kind, thoughtful, and compassionate. But today you chose to bite Joshua because you were angry. Biting is what you did, but it is not who you are. You are a child of God and His gift to me. Although I don’t like what you did, I will always love you!”

As I hugged Andrew, the long list of punishments scrolled through my mind. I knew there needed to be a consequences but should they be everything I had thought of? I whispered a quick prayer asking God to show me. And for the first time in the seven years I’d been parenting, God brought to mind the story of the prodigal son.

I remembered how the father responded when his youngest son repented and turned back toward home. The father ran to his son, welcoming him home and into his arms. As the image of a forgiving father holding his repentant son came to mind, God whispered to my soul: Invite Andrew back to the table.

It took my breath away because I knew it was exactly what Jesus would do. Reaching out my hand to hold Andrew’s, I told him he’d be losing a week of screen time and his favorite toys. Then I invited him to come downstairs to eat dinner.

Andrew told Joshua he was sorry, and they hugged. Vicki and I smiled at each other as we both let out a big sigh. Then, as I opened our pantry to get some paper plates out, I sensed Jesus whispering again to my soul: Serve Andrew first.

I stood there stunned by God’s extravagant grace.

When I got in trouble as a little kid, I remember my parents being mad, spanking me and sending me to my room where I lay in my bed and cried. My tears eventually stopped, but my heart hurt for a while. I could feel my parent’s anger against me. It felt almost like a brick wall had gone up between us. I hated that feeling of separation and not knowing how long it would take for them to let me back in. And I think I assumed it was that way with God too.

That night Jesus showed me the depth of His tender mercy and unreasonable grace. He wanted restoration, not separation and to build relationship, not regret. It brought healing to my soul I didn’t even know I needed. I was never the same, not as a mom nor as a child of God.

No matter what we have done in the past or do in the future — Jesus doesn’t want to push us away. God’s purpose for discipline is to bring us back into a relationship with Him and with others. He is loving, patient, and kind. God forgives, pursues, restores, and He always invites us back to the table, again and again.

For more encouragement like this, Renee has an upcoming book on motherhood called A Confident Mom available for pre-order.

The (in)courage Podcast:
Season One, Episode 01

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Today is the day, friends! We are so excited to bring you a brand new podcast!

In this first episode, our very own Becky Keife and Mary Carver introduce you to the podcast and this season’s topic: Courageous Joy. Becky is the (in)courage community manager, and Mary is a long-time (in)courage contributor, as well as the author of the Courageous Joy Bible Study. These two friends are here to discuss what it means to delight in God through every season of our lives.

In each episode, they discuss the good, the ugly, the beautiful, and the broken — and how we can see God in all of it. Nothing is off limits in these intimate, authentic conversations because nothing in our lives is out of God’s reach.

Whether you’ve already studied Courageous Joy or haven’t started it yet, we invite to listen in on this series of conversations. Today, we’re starting with the basics:

  • Who needs joy?
  • What are some of our misconceptions about joy?  
  • How does choosing joy require courage?

Throughout this season, listeners can expect to hear real women talking about real life and how the real living God meets us there. We’ll share our hard and honest stories that don’t always wrap up neatly but do always point to the hope of Christ. We’ll always end each episode with a Bible verse for the week. This week, let’s meditate on Philippians 4:4:

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!

Scroll down to play the episode, and subscribe today so you don’t miss a minute! You can find the (in)courage podcast anywhere you listen to podcasts. Then tune in next week as Becky and Mary are joined by Aliza Latta to talk about What is Joy? See you then!

Saying No to Guilt and Yes to God

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A text notification flashes on my phone screen: Hey! I’m in your area. Wanna meet for coffee?

Everything in me wants to shut my laptop closed, wave goodbye to the responsibilities of home and work, and drive off in my minivan to the happy land of caffeine and friendship. The possibility of basking in the aroma of delicious, not-made-at-home coffee is almost impossible to resist after a year of not being able to do so. 

I open the text and hesitate; I want to say a wholehearted YES, but something catches in my soul. I begin arguing with myself that my friend wants company, I deserve a break, and who doesn’t need to treat themselves once in a while? I list all the reasons why I could — even should — go, but my own argument breaks down in the silence of being honest with myself. I know I need to stay home, keep writing, and tell my friend no. 

But saying no has never been easy for me to do — especially when it’s something that will benefit someone else and something I want to do. No is usually followed by a heavy load of guilt and frustration for the expectations I can’t fulfill, including my own. I poise my fingers to tap an apology and a promise for a coffee date in the near future: 

Sorry! I so wish I could! I have to . . . 

In the middle of typing, I stop myself and ask, Wait, what am I actually sorry for? Do I need to be?

I had become so used to sorry being the first word out of my mouth when I say no that I hadn’t carefully considered why. I began to parse out my guilt, sifting through what was true and what wasn’t: I felt sad we couldn’t meet up and that it would be another month or so until we could again. I felt fearful that if I didn’t say yes I’d be disappointing my friend. I felt frustrated that I had to choose between two good things — meaningful work and a coffee date with a friend. And when I sifted through all my thoughts and feelings, I found I only felt guilty that I wasn’t able to meet my friend’s hopeful expectation because I was choosing to prioritize my needs and responsibilities. 

But prioritizing my needs and responsibilities is a good thing, not a selfish thing. 

Jesus did the same while He lived on earth. He had His own limitations as a human being, even though He was God. He couldn’t be everywhere at the same time. He wasn’t everyone’s friend and didn’t meet all the needs around Him. He didn’t entrust Himself to anyone simply because they were in His proximity nor did He invest time and teaching into every single person who followed Him. He didn’t turn water into wine at all the weddings He attended or heal every blind person or leper or dying daughter. He lived His life within a certain circumference, among His closest friends, doing the work God the Father had set before Him.

Jesus also spent time not doing anything but resting, eating, being with God the Father, and napping — He knew His priorities and kept them! 

Near the end of His life, Jesus prays, “Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them” (John 17:25-26 NIV).

Ultimately, Jesus’ first priority was to make God — Himself — known. And He did, within the limitations He had and chose to have. 

So my guilt stemmed from a crooked place — that I wasn’t being like Jesus if I didn’t meet my friend’s expectations, if I chose my needs over hers. But Jesus didn’t base His priorities on what others expected of Him or how they would react if He didn’t fulfill their desires. He chose what was important based on what God the Father guided Him to do and then stayed faithful to that.

God would’ve been there at the coffee shop if I had gone to hang out with my friend, but He was inviting me to stay where I was and keep at the work He set before me. I didn’t need to say sorry or feel guilty about doing that.

So, I erased the text I’d written and started over — not with an apology but with gratefulness: Thanks for thinking of me, friend! 

I explained my situation, sent the text, and released a sigh of sadness and relief. I was going to miss out on something good because I was saying yes to God’s work in me for the present time. I placed my phone face down on my desk, placed my fingers on the keyboard again, and thanked God for helping me say no, work through my guilt, and get me to a place of freedom and faithfulness.

Meet. . . the (in)courage Podcast!

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Friends, we have some BIG news for you today! It’s been a long, long time in the making, and we couldn’t be more excited!

You know you can join us daily here at (in)courage for a new article everyday from one of our thirty contributing writers. They share their unique stories — joys and struggles equally — for the purpose of pointing others to the eternal hope of Jesus Christ. This is what it means to be (in) community. We’re always better when we make time to gather, listen, and learn together. And now . . .

We can do this via podcast!

Yes! The (in)courage you know and love — the virtual living room where we pile together on the couch, lounge in comfy chairs, sprawl out on the floor, and create a comfy circle of sisters who are always ready to shift and smoosh together to make space for more — is now a podcast! Cue the confetti because it feels like a party over here!

New episodes will drop on Thursdays, so subscribe today wherever you listen to podcasts so you don’t miss a minute. Yep, you can find the (in)courage podcast literally anywhere! Open your favorite podcast app, and listen to the trailer today — or you can find it right here at the very end of this article. Easy, right?

To kick off our podcast, Season One will be all about what it means to live with courageous joy. Because seriously, who doesn’t need more joy in their life right now? Becky Keife and Mary Carver will be bringing you funny and vulnerable conversations as they discuss their way through our Courageous Joy Bible Study. They’ll be joined by some dear friends along the way, who will share their honest stories of what joy looks like in their lives. Written by Mary and featuring stories from other (in)courage writers, the Courageous Joy Bible Study looks at what God says about real joy — even when life gets hard.

If you love (in)courage, you’re going to love this podcast! These are the conversations we have every day on our website and social media, in our books, devotionals, and Bible studies. And now we’re bringing what thousands of readers love about (in)courage to podcast listeners! Ta-da! (Can you tell we’re just a little bit excited?) 

So friends, we’re ready to celebrate BIG time with a BIG giveaway! Leave a comment on letting us know how excited you are about the (in)courage podcast, and you’ll be entered to win an AMAZING (in)courage prize pack*!

This is the ultimate (in)courage gift bundle, and includes:

  • (in)courage CSB Devotional Bible
  • 2022 (in)courage Courageous Habits Planner
  • (in)courage Take Heart Necklace and Devotional Gift Set
  • Courage, Dear Heart keychain
  • Coffee + Jesus ceramic mug

Leave your comment, and you’ll be entered. Now friend, put your feet up, listen in, and know that you’ve found your place. Consider yourself officially welcomed to the podcast version of the (in)courage living room. The door is open and you’re invited in. 

Listen to the trailer and subscribe!

 

*Giveaway open until 11:59pm Central on June 24, 2021. Open to US residents only. Winner will be chosen randomly and contacted via email. 

Is There Anything More Beautiful Than Friendships Founded on Christ?

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For many of us when we were young, church was a fertile place to grow — not only in our faith but overall in life. Our church family pointed us to Jesus. We were loved, nurtured, and cared for in deed as much as word. For me, perhaps my deep affection for church is seeded in my first memory in life (in a church Christmas play) or how my church family responded following my mother’s death when I was just nine or my Sunday school teachers’ consistency until I went away to college.

Writing For All Who Wander gave me the unexpected gift of lingering in those memories, and I realized how important, even special, it is to think about the pastors, leaders, teachers, family, and friends who have poured into us spiritually. These are the people who’ve shared and lived the gospel and helped us understand the good news found in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. They’ve been a partner to God’s transforming work in our lives.

Aren’t you grateful for those who’ve strengthened or challenged your faith, who’ve spoken truth to you, who’ve prayed for and taught you or maybe even learned alongside you? When I consider all the people who’ve invested in me, a parade of beautiful faces come to mind, and I send a little prayer of thanks to God for them.

Having a community of faith at every stage in life makes the kind of difference that matters. These are the people we need around us when we have questions, face uncertainty, or when life’s curveballs come hurtling toward us. When we’re wrestling and wandering in our faith, we need those who’ll point us to Jesus.

We need folks like this even more in the day-to-day. When wise and trusted mentors and friends point us to Jesus in everyday conversations, it helps prepare us in advance for inevitable battles. A strong faith community naturally strengthens our faith.

Also, having mature believers speaking truth to us on a regular basis can bring clarity to confusion. And if you’re the one with some age, spiritual maturity, or experience, it’s a treasure to give away. Investing in others is kingdom work, a blessing that returns in greater measure.

It’s hard for me to admit (because it’s painful), but years ago I actually lamented having too many friends. It was a season characterized by busyness more than fullness, and I took my friendships and community for granted. God would eventually deal with me about that — hard lessons I penned that point to God’s faithfulness when I was an absolute brat. The short version is my once rich, vibrant faith community withered away to a shadow of what it once was, and I was lonely and reckless, relying on my own strength and resources rather than turning to God. Thankfully, God was working all things together for my good and His glory (Romans 8:28), and friendships were restored in the most unexpected of ways.

It may sound cliché, but people really do need people. It took a season of void for me to finally understand that.

Fast forward to now, and I think we’d agree that COVID has robbed us of so much. Not being able to gather in person has taken a toll, I believe, in incalculable ways. It’s crazy to feel like hugging someone you care about is a crime. Thankfully, in many places, we’re returning to a new normal that includes meeting in person, and — gasp! — wrapping your arms around the people you’ve sorely missed.

Still, many of us are disconnected from any sort of community — from church community, friends, work colleagues, even from God. The rhythms of attending church or going to work or class in person have been disrupted. This long season of separation from our communities over the past year reminded me of that dark season when I felt all alone in the world, where it seemed as if community was non-existent (a lie, by the way). There were days I was inexplicably sad, shrouded by a sense of desperation. But the difference between then and now is that I know the valuable lesson of sharing what I’m experiencing with the people who love me, and in return, they allow me the space to be honest, pray for me, and speak truth to me from God’s word.

Friends, we need to reconnect back to our people, especially our faith communities. We need to remind each other of what we already know — the truths that ground us and give us hope. As much as we do know, there’s so much more to know, and we need each other to keep learning. The writer of Hebrews speaks to a ministry of mutuality, where we all give and receive:

And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another.
Hebrews 10:24-25a (ESV)

Is there anything more lovely than friendships founded on Christ? There’s a forever quality about them that I cherish. As things continue to open up, let’s love, serve, meet, and encourage one another — a near-perfect definition of community.

For When You’re Tired of Toys and Toil

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My eyes blink open to the wake of another morning, that time of day when we most feel the weight of “tired” wash over. I swing heavy feet out of bed and anchor them to the floor, only to rise rigid and stiff, like an iron statue standing after centuries of slumber.

I reach down for my newborn, cradle him close to my chest. Then, with sleeping legs, I step out to the room where my son is awake and loud with singing and talking and reading. It is only seven in the morning, and already, he busts at the seams with energy.

We descend, making our way downstairs, one step at a time until we reach the room of living and lounging — the place where toys are tucked away and where fun is to be had.

I’ve barely had the chance to brew or steep a cup of warmth and, already, toys spill out in tidy spaces, the crashing sounds like a crushing waterfall. It is only seven in the morning, and I am drowning in blocks and cars and things. The newborn is crying because he is hungry, and the kid is whining because he is not. And there I am yelling, telling my husband that I am ready to throw the toys away because I am hungry too — hungry for food to fill my belly and hungry for hope to hold me on days when I am tired of the toys and the mess they bring.

The truth is that I am not tired of the toys; I am tired of the toil. I am tired of the give and take of bone-deep strength. I am tired of washing up worn and weary from housework and world-work that keeps piling on, like heaps of laundry that gather and grow taller than mountains.

In my breakdown, a dawn comes breaking through, and it is the ancient truth of God whispering in the beginning, breathing calm into the world by calling forth light to push back the throw and threat of darkness. It reminds me of God in the garden, lacing land around wild waters and creating a boundary to control the dangerous deep. Yet, while God calms and controls the dark and the deep, their presence still persists — both literally and figuratively. For the world is not as it should be. It tilts and turns with a dangerous darkness and with the minds of men with free will. And, because of this, there will always be a reason to toil, to work and make this world more of what it could be (Genesis 1-2:2 NIV).

Even still, the story of creation holds out this hope for our hands: God rested, not merely after all His work was done, but He rested even while there’d be more work to do. This truth is hope for every seeking soul: Rest does not come by standing in perfected places. Rather, it comes by staring into the face of the One who shows us true rest — the One who sleeps through storms, only to then speak calm into the chaos and control wild winds with mere whispers of words (Mark 4:35-41 NIV).

Rest comes by looking to the One who came and will come again, as the true Light of the world, pushing back darkness, destruction, and death.

True rest on earth will come to you, not only when you believe in the One who is our rest but when you practice living like Him. Rest will come by pressing pause, by stilling the urge to control all that looms and lacks, all that teems with possibility, and all in need of tending care. It will come by choosing to see the light that is already pushing back the persistence of darkness. It will come by confessing that we’ve never had control, that, truthfully, we’ll never have it because we’ll never be the ones with the power to suspend galaxies and sustain life.

Rest can come, even while there is more work to do — more floors to sweep, more roots to weed, more hearts to mend, more soil to tend, more souls to save, more roads to pave, more work-filled days, more toys to tuck away.

So let your list of things messy and undone be a sign of your faith in a God who is always moving, whose list never runs dry of people and places to work in. Let the piles before you — whether tasks or toys — be proof that there really is more work to do and that God is in the midst of it. And may you practice rest in the midst of this work, trusting deeply that everything you put your hands and heart to will bring forth good in your world, in our world.

Ask yourself, Where am I toiling and where am I tired? Then, practice rest by pressing pause and reorienting to see where God is already at work.